Prologue
Bellatrix Lestrange, Severus Snape, and Antonin Dolohov filed into the dimly lit room. Shadows surrounded every corner except for the spot where they eventually stood and a small bit of light where their master sat.
Bellatrix, as usual, was twitchy and jerky in her movements, occasionally shrugging her shoulders and tugging at a lock of scraggly black hair in swift, confused motions. After so long in Azkaban, a child could tell she was mad. Her eyes were constantly cast adoringly at the Dark Lord.
Severus stood with his hands behind his back and his feet shoulder width apart, head bowed slightly in subservience to his master but with an unflappable calm. Years of Occlumency did that to people. Even now, shortly after the death of Albus Dumbledore, Snape was able to show no grief, no pain, no fear. It was necessary for survival.
Dolohov barely moved, every muscle in his squat body tense, but his face had a puzzled look. A lot of that was just his face, which may have been taken for that of an idiot, but Dolohov was no Crabbe or Goyle. He was, in his own way, one of the more deadly of the Death Eaters. He was a brilliant tactician and guerrilla fighter, even if Voldemort did not take advice. Dolohov was never a supporter of the plan to fetch the prophecy that resulted in the capture of so many Death Eaters or of the Dark Lord's fixation on Harry Potter. Because Dolohov was so intelligent, he was also smart enough to know that these things were better off unsaid. Some people would say after the war that if Dolohov had been in charge, the Death Eaters would have won.
The Dark Lord's head was bowed. He was silent.
After what seemed like an eternity, he lifted his head and looked at all three of them. "You three are my most trusted."
All three bowed their heads and murmured thanks.
"However, I still do not trust you enough." The Dark Lord rose from his throne and paced slowly towards them. Bellatrix immediately went stock still, mouth slightly open, left hand gripping her hair. Snape followed the Dark Lord with his eyes. Dolohov's puzzlement grew. The Dark Lord's head remained bowed.
The Dark Lord raised his wand and pointed it downwards. "You will swear to each other."
Bellatrix thrust her hand forward without a further thought. Snape and Dolohov did so after looking at each other quickly. They were both thinking the same thing.
An unbreakable vow. Wonderful.
And in Snape's mind. Dammit. Not again.
"Will you swear never to repeat to anyone else, or in any way communicate or transfer knowledge to anyone else, of what you are about to learn in this room, until I have given permission?"
That didn't leave them much choice. "I swear, my Lord."
There go any Pensieve options. This just keeps getting better and better. On the inside, Snape scowled.
The Dark Lord withdrew his wand.
"Now you are ready."
He flicked his wand lazily at the darkness behind him. All three Death Eaters heard a door open and a small group of people step forward. They came into the light in sequential order.
There were five. They were all clad in nondescript dark robes.
The first was a thin man with high cheekbones and a pair of squared spectacles. He looked to be about fifty, but as this was the wizarding world, there was really no telling. His look was that of a schoolmaster, and his graying hair was harshly clipped. He calmly assessed the three Death Eaters, eyes widening when he looked at Bellatrix. The Professor, Severus named him.
The second to emerge from the darkness was a small woman. Her face was leathery and tanned, as if she had spent a lot of time in the sun. Her eyes could have been warm if she had done anything else in her life – she looked like a kind person – but they were empty brown pools. Her hair was in a ponytail, pouring down her back in long tresses. She actually smiled at them. The Farmer, Severus named her.
The third was a blonde man with a jutting jaw. He looked like a hero. He wore a slight smirk on his face, but there was no superiority in it. He gave off an air of strength and resolve. He was not particularly large, and he did not have the aura of magic around him that powerful wizards did, but something about him spoke of true power. He gave each Death Eater a nod. The Paladin, Severus named him, for that was what he looked like.
The fourth was a thin, big-eyed black man. He was slightly taller than the Professor and the Paladin. Despite his thin frame, he was physically powerful. His face was filled with a brutish rage, not as an expression but as a mark, like something he had borne his whole life. He carried himself like a soldier. He looked at each of the Death Eaters in turn, sizing them up. The Berserker. With his body posture, Severus was almost afraid the man would attack them.
The last man was Asian. He had thick grey eyebrows and a small grey goatee. Unlike the rest, he carried an unmistakable air of superiority. He walked with his head held high and his hands clasped in front of him. He was rather shorter than the Paladin but not as short as the Farmer. His hands were callused with the ridges that only a swordsman has. Severus had a hard time coming up with a name for him. Swordsman sounded too shallow, not quite a good descriptor. The Sentinel, Severus decided. He couldn't get over the way the man just watched them. He made no expression.
The Dark Lord stood for a while, surveying the five. Then he turned to his three most loyal Death Eaters. Or so he thought.
"These are my five Grand Marshals. When England has finally been…subdued, these five will spring into action. They will launch pure and righteous movements in the rest of the world to secure my power. They are five capable and experienced Dark Wizards. Until then, they are to remain hidden."
The Dark Lord looked at the floor a moment. "England shall only be subdued when I have caught and destroyed Harry Potter. There must be nothing else."
Dolohov almost rolled his eyes before he caught himself.
"For North America and Australia, Anthony Cheever." The Professor.
"For South America and the Pacific, Julia Velasquez." The Farmer.
"For continental Europe and western Russia, Michael Dornberg." The Paladin.
"For Africa and the Middle East, Olusegun Deya." The Berserker. Severus was surprised the Dark Lord could pronounce it. He certainly couldn't.
"For Eastern Asia, Ardchilsan Evsel." The Sentinel. Severus was puzzled. What kind of culture had that name? Not Chinese. Not Japanese. Not Indian. No…Severus pawed through the not inconsiderable cultural knowledge of nations he had gained from Potions conferences and his work for Dumbledore and the Dark Lord. Mongolian. That was interesting. Had something happened in Mongolia recently that he was unaware of?
"The reason you must know each other," the Dark Lord said quietly, "is that there may be a time when I appear to be dead and gone."
Bellatrix gazed at him in rapture. Dolohov grew attentive suddenly. Snape's face didn't change, but alarm bells started going off in his head. Whatever this was, it was important.
"This has happened before, but it will not be permanent. I cannot die." The Dark Lord smiled slowly and languorously.
So you think. Severus scowled on the inside. He had no great love for Harry Potter, but he certainly hoped the brat did right by Dumbledore's plan. He even hoped he would be there to see the smugness get blasted off the Dark Lord's face.
"However, if this situation does occur again, I cannot allow my gains, so great, to fall apart until I have once again returned. This happened before. This cannot happen again. Therefore, I must have a contingency plan." He said this with an air that he was fully convinced of his wisdom. He even shot a look at Dolohov, his strategist, to make sure he approved. Dolohov did approve, and had the sense to show it. Anything else would have drawn the Dark Lord's ire. He didn't need that.
"If I disappear again, I shall return. You can be guaranteed of that. Until then, someone must maintain my work. That responsibility belongs to the five Grand Marshals, and you three. You are expected to work with them, and they are expected to work with you. One of you will lead the Death Eaters after I have gone. For that, I choose…Dolohov."
Bellatrix's face slackened. "But…my Lord…"
"Do not fear, darling Bella." The Dark Lord stroked Bellatrix's cheek with one long finger. She sighed. Dolohov and Severus wanted to throw up. "You shall have the responsibility of tracking my spirit down and reviving me."
"Severus…" Voldemort looked at him carefully. "By killing Dumbledore, you have forever compromised your ability as my spy. Your responsibility, therefore, will be the execution of Harry Potter and his allies should I disappear once more. Doubtless you have no problems with that?"
"No, my Lord." However, Snape knew that even should he try, it would fail because of that prophecy. The Dark Lord did not know the whole prophecy. But at least that meant that none of the others would be trying to kill the Potter brat, and Snape could continue to carry out his penance for Lily. Watching over him.
Voldemort smiled again. "My last directive for this plan. Should I disappear again, there is a minimum waiting period of four years. We will allow the magical world to grow complacent and weak once more. The Death Eaters will lie low. No stunts. Nothing like what you pulled at the World Cup two years ago. The Marshals will lie low. Severus will await his chance. Bella will search the Earth for me.
"You have all taken Unbreakable oaths. Those oaths will expire in four years. When that time comes – four years from my disappearance – you will all strike at the same time. Coordinate, poise, and strike. At that time, and that time only, Bella will resurrect me. Do you all understand?"
They all answered in the affirmative, each Grand Marshal bowing their heads in unison as they assured him that they would abide by his wishes.
Voldemort nodded. Then he gestured to his Grand Marshals. "We have much to talk about. Severus, Bella, Antonin. Leave us."
The three Death Eaters left. As they closed the door behind them and entered one of the many halls of Malfoy Manor, Bella trotted off, lost in her thoughts and madness. Dolohov raised his eyebrows to Snape, who gave a curt nod. They both entered the nearest room, which turned out to be a spare bedroom.
"Well?" Snape asked as Dolohov shut the door.
Dolohov looked at him. "It's a good plan. But…" Dolohov waved his wand and warded the room from intrusion. Secrecy was one of his talents.
"I am not as convinced of the Dark Lord's immortality as he." Dolohov finished.
Snape quirked an eyebrow again. This was the most he had ever heard any Death Eater doubt.
"Why not? He is the Dark Lord. He has returned once. Why not again?"
"There are ways." Dolohov waved his hand. "I know there are ways to keep one from dying. I do not know the details, but they exist. I do know that these ways can also make someone extremely vulnerable. The Dark Lord did not always look like he does. And I also believe that whatever the Dark Lord did to make himself immortal, it has hindered his judgment in some respects. He was not so blind to reality before."
Snape did not know what to think. Why was Dolohov telling him this? Why was Dolohov even saying this out loud? Was the man insane?
No. If he was truly insane, he would have told this to Bellatrix. And they both knew how well that would have gone.
Dolohov rubbed his sweaty forehead and sighed. Then he shot Snape an intense look. "I also know other things."
Snape met his eyes and, though he didn't show it, was suddenly alert. Dolohov knew something. This was no bluff.
"For instance, I know that you defeated Albus Dumbledore. No surprise, right?"
Snape relaxed about two hairs. This was leading up to something.
"But I also know that Dumbledore had something in his possession that the Dark Lord wants. The Elder Wand."
Okay, alarm bells were definitely going off now. Snape's calm prevented shock from passing across his face, but Dolohov smiled anyway.
"Oh, don't worry. The Dark Lord doesn't know. And I know you won't tell him. I don't want him to know. And you don't want him to know. Because if he knows…then he'll kill you. Because the Elder Wand won't be bound to him. He will be forced to kill you to gain its power."
Snape snorted. "Do you really believe in the fairy tales of the Elder Wand, Dolohov? The Three Brothers?"
Dolohov turned away and ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't believe. Not until the Ministry. Not until I saw it in the old man's hand."
Snape cursed Dolohov's eye for detail. The man was too damn smart for his own good. He wondered for a split second if he should dispose of him now. He was a slightly better dueler than Dolohov. No. No, that would be noticed.
"Why don't you want him to know that the Elder Wand has been under his nose all this time, Dolohov? Surely you want the Dark Lord to rule? Surely you live to serve him?"
Dolohov nodded. "Oh, of course I do. But I worry about his mental state. I truly only see this as a sign of things to come. I fear that if the Dark Lord discovers the Elder Wand, he will be encouraged by his find, and keep hunting down artifacts that will make him stronger. He will not worry about his administration, his forces, his war. He will be so concerned with his fight to be free from death that he will not worry about the fight to inflict death on others. So you see, I am serving him in my own way. I am looking out for his mental state."
Snape nodded. Dolohov was smart, he deserved credit for that. A lot of what he said was true. As long as Dolohov did not know that Draco Malfoy was truly the master of the Elder Wand, all was well as far as Snape was concerned. Snape was the only one living who knew that; he concealed that knowledge to protect Draco.
"Why tell me?"
Dolohov simply shrugged and said, "If the Dark Lord decides he must kill you to gain the Elder Wand, that would be…most unfortunate. You are a valuable asset to the Death Eaters. Your survival is required. The Dark Lord would simply have to defeat you, not kill you. However, he never sees it in those terms." Dolohov withdrew a small, corked tube and handed it to Snape.
Snape took it and examined it. It was a clear substance with a faint tinge of yellow. Even with his vast knowledge, he did not immediately identify it.
"That is a sample of Nagini's venom."
Snape looked up from the vial to meet Dolohov's eyes.
"You want me to make an antidote."
"Yes. The Dark Lord would not kill a loyal follower by his own hand; he would rather use Nagini to do it. That's how he does things. If he must kill a loyal man, he doesn't like to do it himself. Make an antidote. Keep it handy. We can't afford to lose you."
Snape pocketed it. He and Dolohov faced each other a while. Then Snape said,
"What will be your strategy if the Dark Lord vanishes?"
Dolohov shrugged. "Guerrilla warfare. Strike at the weak spots. The Dark Lord has always been hesitant to use any kind of Muggle devices, but I am not. Bombs, snipers, traps. Terror. If people stop believing in the government, the government will fall. We don't even need to do it ourselves. And we will tackle the Order of the Phoenix directly. No messing around with them."
If anybody could pull that off, Dolohov could. However, now the other Death Eater looked at him and asked, "How will you kill Harry Potter?"
Snape smirked. "He trusts his friends. I will use that against him. Poison in his food. Stabbed in his bed. A bomb, like your suggestion. If the Dark Lord vanishes again, he will not be looking for it."
"You speak true." Then he grimaced. "I don't know how I feel about waiting four years. That trick won't work again."
"The Ministry became soft and weak after the Dark Lord fell the first time. I doubt it will happen again the same way. Maybe four years will be enough, though."
Dolohov shook his head and left the room. Snape sat on the richly patterned bed and considered.
If the Dark Lord discovered – incorrectly – that Snape was the master of the Elder Wand, he would certainly try to kill him. The Dark Lord never did things by halves. Snape felt his coat and patted the small vial. Dolohov had a point. It never hurt to take precautions.
