They were inside some kind of stone-built castle; too large, Sev saw immediately, to be somebody's private home, and it wasn't any part of Hogwarts he knew.
There was a limit to the number of places this huge that could be magically concealed, and he was pretty damn sure Malfoy wouldn't have transported them into the middle of anything owned by the Ministry of Magic. That left another one of the magical schools.
A young man came hurrying down the corridor towards them. He was perhaps ten years older than them, perhaps a little less; too old to still be a student. He had closely cropped dark hair, and a goatee with a curl.
"Ah. Malfoy and party," he said briskly. His voice was rich and dripping with a kind of bored arrogance.
Malfoy matched him, sneer for sneer. "That's right. Take us to your master." As if, Sev observed with cynical amusement, it wasn't his master too.
The young man guided them rapidly through the echoing corridors. It was extremely cold here, reflected in their guide's fur-lined cloak.
Durmstrang, Sev concluded. This must be Durmstrang. The young man leading them had no discernible accent, but there was a harsher edge to his voice than you would expect from a native French-speaker. Besides, this castle was altogether too starkly furnished to be the ornate Beauxbatons. It had to be Durmstrang.
Sev wondered if the Death Eaters simply assumed that the Hogwarts boys wouldn't put such basic clues together, or they were just too arrogant to care. Probably the latter. Durmstrang was a notorious home of dark wizards, the whole school an equivalent of Slytherin house at Hogwarts. Besides, it mattered little if they knew they were in Durmstrang, because nobody actually knew where Durmstrang was.
They followed the young man to a narrow room that was clearly the base of a tower. Inside stood a blond-haired older man with steely eyes. He glanced at the boys in a vaguely bored way, and turned to Malfoy.
"These are the ones?"
Malfoy nodded briskly. "Yes, Professor Dolohov." It amused Sev slightly that even in the midst of such dark plotting, a teacher would insist on being addressed by his title. But that, he assumed, was Dolohov's way of lording it over Malfoy; emphasising his seniority. In any organisation like the Death Eaters, there would be constant backstabbing and jockeying for position.
"His Lordship will see them one at a time." He nodded to the young man who had brought them in. "Igor, take the first boy."
Igor took a suddenly nervous-looking Nick Avery by the elbow and guided him towards the steps up into the tower. They heard the two pairs of footsteps echoing up into the dark, and then nothing.
About five minutes later, Igor returned alone. He said nothing, but came for Simon Lestrange and took him up the stairs too. Colin Crabbe, standing between Sev and Malfoy and regarding the ceiling anxiously, began to look a little green.
Crabbe was next, and Sev was left alone with Malfoy and Dolohov. The two Death Eaters, professor and boy, pointedly ignored each other. Sev waited in impassive silence for Igor to return for him.
The young man herded him quickly up several flights of stairs, then hung back at the final doorway. "Inside," he said, with a brusque nod. Sev moved to the black wooden door and pushed it open. It was heavier than it would have appeared, but despite his relatively skinny frame Sev had a wiry strength to him.
The room inside was darkened; no doubt to intimidate, and to give the occupant a view of him whilst his eyes were still adjusting. On the other boys - except perhaps for Simon - it had probably worked, but Sev's brain quickly tagged it for the psychological warfare it was.
Drama; the Death Eater leader had a sense of drama. That was good. That was a weakness. Those with a sense of drama wanted to let the world know what they were doing, whilst those like Sev got the job done quietly in the shadows, when nobody was looking.
He waited in the doorway until his eyesight adjusted, and then stepped inside.
A tall, slim figure flowed out of the shadows towards him. It was a dark-haired man; past forty, perhaps, but with a handsome, unlined face. His eyes were as black as Snape's own, and every bit as piercing. He didn't even have to speak, just smile slightly, for Sev to feel the charisma flowing from him; stronger even than that of Lucius Malfoy. This was a man who people would follow. This was a cult leader.
He regarded Sev in impassive silence, who reflected the same attitude right back. The other boys might eventually snap, but not him. However, after a long moment he chanced a respectful nod. He wanted to project strength, not defiance.
The older man gave a nod right back, and smiled softly. "Severus Snape," he said, in a tone that was not a question. He had a pleasant, cultured voice, and spoke as softly as Sev himself. This was a man who didn't need to shout to be obeyed.
"Lord Voldemort," Sev replied. He had little doubt that this was he, although the only person he had yet heard that name from was the Auror Cuero. Perhaps the other man might be surprised that he knew it, but Sev knew he wouldn't abruptly demand to know where he had got it from. That would be to admit to not having full control of the situation.
Indeed, he did not. Voldemort threw back his head and laughed, and in that instant he seemed perhaps twenty years younger. But when he looked back at Sev, there was something cold and serpentine in his eyes. "You're a smart one. Very sly."
"I'm a Slytherin," he said simply.
"Aren't we all?" Abruptly, all traces of the smile were gone, and Voldemort was regarding him with fiery intensity. "You're a listener, I think. A cold one, a silent one. You're cleverer than Malfoy. Why do you follow?"
"Why would I lead?" Sev knew he had to step carefully; very, very carefully. In his fourteen years of life so far, he had met precisely one person who he believed to share his intellectual level; the Hogwarts headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.
As of tonight, he had met two.
This interview with Voldemort was very much like facing the Sorting Hat - except that here, the risks were greater than being relegated to house Hufflepuff. Voldemort seemed able to read the depths of his personality from his eyes; but not all of it.
Nobody had ever read all of it.
"You don't lust for glory. I doubt you care much for the fate of the world, one way or the other. So why are you here? What do you want from us? What can we, the Death Eaters, give you, that you think you cannot give yourself?"
To risk a lie now would be to risk everything. He had to give a truth, and there was only one truth it could possibly be.
"Knowledge."
Voldemort regarded him silently for a long moment. Then he started to laugh. "Yes. Oh, yes. I see Malfoy has found us a real prize in you. Give me your arm."
Remembering Malfoy's Death Eater symbol, Snape quickly pulled back his robe to bare his left arm.
Instead of producing a wand or some more archaic means of applying a tattoo, Voldemort simply grasped Sev's arm in a powerful two-fingered grip, and spoke the word "Morsmordrios."
There was a flash of blinding pain, and Sev allowed the wince of agony to cross his features; he could have controlled it had he desired, but to what end? He doubted Voldemort would be either fooled or impressed. Shows of strength were better saved for the important things.
He automatically gripped his arm as Voldemort released it, but then the pain faded to a tingle. As he moved his fingers away, he saw the shape of the Dark Mark blossoming there. Unlike Malfoy's when he'd seen it, it was not red but pure black.
Voldemort looked at his handiwork and gave a brief, satisfied nod. He looked Sev in the eye, and said "The Dark Mark is my favour, and my power. When I am near, it will burn black. When I wish you summoned to my side, it is through this mark that I will show it. Obey me, and you will share my rise to greatness. Disobey, and you shall earn my disfavour-" he cracked a warmthless smile- "a considerably more painful thing."
Sev knew Voldemort wouldn't be sold if he made some overenthusiastic declaration, so he just nodded, and said "As you will it."
"As I will it," Voldemort agreed, without a trace of irony. He swept his cloak around him, and ordered "Go to the base of the tower, where the others wait." With that, he Disapparated.
More drama, thought Sev. Now might have seemed the perfect opportunity to snoop around the upper chamber for evidence of Voldemort's plans, but he wasn't nearly stupid enough to assume he wasn't being watched. He turned and quickly descended the stairs to join the others.
The other boys were all there, the three newly-minted Death Eaters proudly displaying their Dark Marks, and Malfoy looking distinctly relieved. Sev had passed his interview, and no doubt the others had undergone similar questioning before they were branded. It would have been as much a test of Malfoy's judgement as it was of their suitability.
The fact that they had passed had not relieved Dolohov of his contempt. He regarded them all with a thinly veiled sneer.
"So. Now you are Death Eaters. Do not think that your youth somehow excuses you, or allows you to make foolish mistakes. We will tolerate no mistakes."
He swept back his left sleeve abruptly, revealing his own Dark Mark. "The mark identifies you as a true Death Eater; show it to another, and he will know you for what you are." His face darkened. "Show it to one who is not a Death Eater, and we will be most displeased." He folded his arms.
"You are the Dark Lord's eyes and ears. None will suspect you, provided you do not act foolishly. Malfoy will be your leader; you will receive your orders through him. Carry them out correctly, and you will be rewarded. If you are ever caught or suspected, you will admit nothing, reveal nothing, and explain nothing. Betray us, and we will hunt you unto the ends of the earth and destroy you."
From the expression on his face, it was clear that Dolohov would much prefer that outcome than to actually have to spend one more minute in their presence.
"Contact will be kept at a minimum. Malfoy knows where to find your local contact; you will liase through him."
Sev could almost respect their stringent security measures. The Ministry of Magic might refuse to believe that children could be used as spies, but the Death Eaters were not so naive. It was paranoia but not unjustified; after all, they did indeed have a youthful spy amongst their new recruits. However, Severus was far smarter than even the most paranoid would give him credit for.
Dolohov's contempt was, in its way, a shield. The young recruits were beneath him; he would pay them as little attention as possible. His fellows, should Sev ever have a chance to meet them, were likely to be the same.
No, his biggest challenge would be Voldemort himself: and below him, Malfoy. His de facto leadership of the boys had now become an official reality, and it remained to be seen how that would affect his attitude to Sev, his biggest rival.
The novice Death Eaters eagerly awaited the announcement of their first mission, but for a while all was quiet. Their only orders were to keep their eyes open for 'anything of importance', a brief which Sev had been adhering to long before he was ever ordered to.
From what he could gather, the 'anything important' the Death Eaters wanted at Hogwarts was information about the school's revamped defences.
Since troubling events in the outside world had started to impinge on school grounds, Dumbledore had been making every effort to keep them as secure as possible. Professors Vitae and Fractalis, the Charms and Arithmancy teachers, had been helping to shore up the wards around the school, although the bulk of the work fell, naturally, on the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Malachite.
However, new defences weren't the only demand on the staff's precious time. They were still one man down following the disappearance of Cuero; and then there was the duelling club.
Malfoy, naturally, had been keen to sign them all up for the fourth-year group. It tickled his sensibilities to think that 'The Enemy' were taking the time to improve duelling skills that would one day be used against them.
The classes were, of course, packed. Duelling magic was apt to be far more fun than anything learned in lessons, and the students were keen to play around with it. The teachers assigned varied from week to week, but generally it fell to either Professor Vitae or Professor Malachite.
The fact that the two teachers most involved were the respective heads of enemy houses Gryffindor and Slytherin hardly helped to preserve a friendly, non-competitive atmosphere.
Sev was willing to bet that the fourth-year group was the one most likely to explode into all-out magical warfare. In all the years, there were inter-house tensions, but in his own, each side had a charismatic leader: James Potter and Lucius Malfoy.
If you liked Potter, you had to hate Malfoy and his gang. If you liked Malfoy, you had to hate Potter and his gang. If you were trying to be neutral, you were best advised to hit the ground and stay there until the sparks stopped flying.
Even in the early lessons, learning harmless basics like the Disarmament Charm, it was only a matter of minutes before war was joined. The sides were evenly matched; Malfoy had his cadre of Death Eaters, Potter had Sirius, Lily, Remus and Peter. Pete Pettigrew, a small, pudgy and extremely nervous boy, had a quite incredible talent for Transfiguration - much to the dismay of whichever Slytherin he turned it against - and Sirius Black was an explosion waiting to happen. Lily and Remus were less inclined to fight, but they weren't prepared to stand by once the hexes started flying.
Sev himself stayed largely on the sidelines, but he was a legitimate target to the Gryffindors, and when he got hit, he hit back - usually with devastating results. With his photographic memory and penchant for reading, he was a walking library of hexes, and he could always find one that wasn't too dangerous, but looked truly spectacular.
Of course, when this kind of trouble broke out it was down to the teachers to call an end to it - but when you had Vitae and Malachite together, there was no guarantee that would happen.
Professor Vitae let her Gryffindors get away with murder, and Malachite was not unaware of that. A bias tended to exist against House Slytherin - a pose which was a much a cause of its wizards going bad as a defence against it. Professor Malachite was unceasingly angry about the unfairness of it all; "The serpent," he often liked to say, "has been maligned for too long in this school."
That was true enough, but there was little chance of it changing with somebody like Lucius Malfoy acting as a figurehead for house Slytherin. Relations between Vitae and Malachite were hence extremely strained, and they both relished any opportunity to set their houses head-to-head.
"Okay, if somebody would like to come up to the front and show us how it's done?" suggested Professor Vitae after another outbreak of fighting had been quelled. "How about... James and... Lucius. Come on boys." Sev cynically noted the way she paused before the second name, as if anyone would believe that hadn't been her intention all along.
Malfoy grinned darkly in triumph. "Oh, this is gonna be fun," he muttered to his compatriots. "I'm gonna blow the Muggle-loving slime off the face of the planet."
What Professor Vitae probably failed to take into account when arranging the match was that although her boy would stop short of actual homicide, Malfoy might very well not.
Malfoy was clever, but his thirst for vengeance could make him reckless. James Potter had showed him up too many times, beating him in the classroom and the Quidditch field. He might well take a chance and try to do him a serious injury.
Though nobody would ever prove it hadn't been an accident, not everyone would be fooled. People would start watching Malfoy, and sooner or later all five of them would be caught. Sev had to intercede, without actually saying out loud "Don't try to hurt him". Malfoy was apt to react against that kind of advice by insisting he knew better.
He thought quickly. "Lucius. I have a spell for you."
Malfoy's grin widened. "Really? Do tell."
Sev whispered the word in his ear, and smiled thinly at him. "Trust me, that'll give Potter the shock of his life. And I think Professor Malachite will definitely... appreciate it."
Malfoy flashed him another wicked grin in return, probably not understanding what he meant but willing to trust him. He had come to rely on Snape's advice, which was all to the good. The more useful Sev made himself in the minor things, the less his loyalty would ever be questioned.
The room fell silent as the two boys faced off against each other. Malfoy gave his trademark mocking smile, and Potter returned it. Potter was perhaps less arrogant than Malfoy, but he had no lack of confidence in himself, and he believed in his own invincibility.
Professor Vitae raised her wand, then paused and turned to Malfoy. "Mr. Malfoy; play nice, if you please." Malfoy just gave her an innocent look, but Malachite scowled at the insinuation. Vitae gave him a smile that looked a lot like the ones the two duellists had exchanged.
"When I give the signal-" she ordered sternly. But she barely had time to wave her wand before conflicting shouts cracked through the air.
"Serpensortia!" cried Malfoy. The whole room gasped as a huge black serpent boiled out of the end of his wand and lunged towards Potter.
James was shocked into jumping backwards, but he was so quick off the mark that his spell was already flying towards Malfoy. "Petrificus Totalus!" Malfoy thudded heavily to the ground, completely paralysed.
Unfortunately for James, that meant that the serpent was no longer under what little control Malfoy might have wielded. The assembled audience scattered as the long snake rippled towards Potter at lightning speed, and then pulled back, in preparation to strike.
Professor Vitae seemed frozen by surprise, making no move to rescue her prize student from harm's way. James himself couldn't reach for his wand - a sudden movement would certainly bring the snake down upon him.
Abruptly, a hissing sound snapped through the air. The serpent drew away as if startled, and then snaked across the floor to coil around Professor Malachite's feet. Ignoring the amazed stares, he calmly lifted the creature from the floor and allowed it wrap itself around his shoulders.
"Snakes," he said mildly, "are nothing to be frightened of - if you know how to handle them properly." He produced his wand from the folds of his cloak, and used it to free Malfoy from the full-body bind. He absently patted the snake on the head, and it blinked up at him blissfully. "I think," he said to Professor Vitae, "We'll have to call this one a draw. Now, all of you get to your afternoon lessons, while I send this little fellow back where he came from."
Malfoy got to his feet and scrambled over to Sev's side, shooting Potter a dark look. "Did you see?" he asked Sev excitedly. "He's a Parselmouth!"
"No wonder he's always going on about being nasty to serpents," observed Avery.
