Joining the Fold

By Duckflesh

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor any of the characters used in the story to follow. The characters and all other Harry Potter trademarks are used here without permission.

Chapter 2

Upon exiting King's Cross, Snape was surprised to find that the sun had almost set, the clouds having adopted the reddish hue that only comes in the hour or so before evening. Surprisingly, Malfoy' robes seemed to be attracting far less attention, now that the two of them had gotten out onto the streets of London. Snape theorized that this was due to the extraordinary ability of muggles to totally ignore anything that they perceived as a threat. Upon identifying Malfoy as a "loony" from fifty meters away, they would do anything in their power to avoid so much as glancing at him as they passed. Snape suspected that Malfoy could start transfiguring mailboxes into penguin and still get just as little notice.

Snape wondered where the Dark Lord could be dwelling within London. He expected Malfoy to lead him deep into the dirtiest, most dangerous part of the city, where perhaps they'd find the Dark Lord in a run-down old house. Snape's expectations, however, were not met. Their path seemed to be taking them, gradually, down more and more crowded streets, the lighting growing brighter with each district they passed through.

"Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"Where are we going, then?"

Malfoy turned back at him and smiled cooly. He swung his arm up, pointing at the largest building on the block. Snape blinked.

"That's a muggle hotel."

"The finest."

"The Dark Lord… is staying in a muggle hotel."

"In a manner of speaking."

Malfoy pivoted on his heel to face the hotel, robes billowing, and then marched off for it. Snape followed, deeply curious.

They were soon standing under the huge building's awning. Malfoy pushed forward through the revolving door. Snape followed after, wondering over the ability of muggles to take a perfectly serviceable piece of technology, like a door, and turn it into something complicated and unpleasant.

Upon coming through to the other side, Snape found himself face to face with a massive figure, totally cloaked in a black robe identical to Malfoy' but for its size. The figure grunted.

"Snape," said Malfoy, "Meet Goyle. Goyle, this is our new friend, Severus Snape."
Goyle muttered something that might have passed as speech in some cultures, then stepped aside, disappearing back into the shadows. It wasn't hard to do, as the lobby was surprisingly dark. Snape looked up, and saw that the vast majority of the ornate chandeliers fixed to the ceiling had been blasted into states that made them rather difficult to identify. The largest chandelier, however, hanging over the center of the lobby, remained lit. It illuminated a massive, gurgling fountain. Two gently curving staircases began in front of the fountain on either side and gently rose around it, meeting behind the fountain and a story up, where the front desk presumably sat.

Snape stared at the fountain. There was something very off about it.

Malfoy followed his gaze, and then grinned. "It's not dye, if that's what you're wondering."

Snape was about to ask him what he meant, but then figured it out for himself. The water bubbling out of the fountain was bright red, and seemed a little… thick.

Mesmerized, Snape walked slowly toward the fountain. The red was even more vibrant upon closer inspection. Overwhelmed by his curiosity, he rolled up a sleeve of his dirty shirt and dipped his pale hand into the liquid.

It wasn't pure blood. From its feel, it had probably been water, some time ago. Before certain additions had been made.

He felt his fingers sweep against something, and closed his hand around it. It was thin and soft. He pulled up, having to exert quite a bit of effort before the object raised enough out of the water for him to identify it.

It was a Bellhop. From the outfit, the kind that only the employees of a pretentious English hotel would still actually wear, it was obvious. Snape's fingers had closed around the front of his shirt. The Bellhop's eyes were open, and his face was distorted into a horrible mask of fear and pain. He was deathly pale, though he had gained a rather reddish hue as a result of the marinade he had stewing in for so long. His exposed skin was covered with cuts. Snape expected that the unfortunate muggle had been completely drained into the fountain, though considering the overall consistency of the water, there must have been many more bodies drifting heavily beneath the surface.

Snape dropped the corpse back into the depths. It settled back in with an unsettling plunging sound, the thick water rippling only slightly before returning to a state of mirror-like stillness. Snape took out his wand and carefully cleaned the blood off his hand, which had been so drenched that it appeared as though he were wearing a red glove.

Malfoy remained silent throughout, and amused expression on his face. He looked surprised when Snape finally asked, after taking a moment to compose himself, "The Dark Lord is employing vampires, then?"

"Vampires? No, not really. Here and there, perhaps."

"But, then… why all this blood?"

"Don't be unoriginal, Snape. Why should vampires have all the fun?"

"Did you kill the entire hotel staff?"

"Certainly we did. There couldn't be more than twenty in there, though." Malfoy gestured toward the fountain. "Unfortunately, though, the bodies weighed down on the outtake vents, and the cursed thing jammed up. Took quite a few charms to get it going again."

"Where are the other bodies?"

"Oh, we just let them lay where the Death Curse put them."

"Ah, so you did use the Death Curse, then?"

"On some of them."

Snape gestured toward the fountain. "And these?"

"The Death Curse gets boring sometimes, Snape. You'll come to understand than soon enough."

"You must have killed something like fifty people, assuming there were no guests…"

A smile dancing around Malfoy' lips, not at all kind, made Snape think that this was a poor assumption. He pushed on.

"Isn't that a bit much, even for the Dark Lord? The muggles must know something is going on."

"Don't be foolish. We have all the bodies, and the building itself is charmed. Muggles can't see it, and even if they could, they wouldn't notice it."

"Then the bodies won't be found, but what about these people's families? Aren't they going to notice the disappearances?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"Well… I suppose we didn't really think of that. Heat of the moment, and all."

"Hrm."

"It doesn't matter, really."

"You've really cast a muggle-repelling charm on this building? One that muggles already know about, and are used to walking by all the time? Isn't that a bit… dangerous?"

Malfoy was starting to look irritated. "Listen, Snape, I didn't bring you here so I could justify our actions to you. If you don't approve of how the Dark Lord does things, perhaps you should just… leave."

Snape glanced over at Goyle, who was still standing near the door, and he felt rather certain that leaving hadn't been an option for quite some time.

"No," he said. "I'm… sorry. I just didn't realize how powerful the Dark Lord had become."

Malfoy clapped an arm around Snape's shoulder and began leading him up the stairway. "Always was, Snape. How powerful he always was."

The second floor of the lobby was poorly lit, for the same reason that the entrance was. The incredibly long check-in desk was deserted, save for a Death Eater laying on it down near one end, apparently asleep.

Malfoy led him to a large alcove jutting off from the lobby. Its walls were gilded, and it was lined with large elevator doors. Malfoy reached out and jabbed an "up" button.

"We were all rather surprised to find out that the muggles had elevators. They work with pulleys and such, of course."

Snape nodded absent-mindedly, watching the display above the elevator doors slowly tick down. He thought he could feel the terrible power of he Dark Lord coming from somewhere above them. Soon, he'd be bathing in that power. The knowledge felt good.

The light on the display reached the gracefully scripted "1", and the door slid open. Inside stood yet another Death Eater, a man of average size with his hood up. He glanced at them.

"Oh, good. I thought I might have to go out to King's Cross and find out what was holding you two up."

"We're only taking the scenic route, Travers," Malfoy said, and they stepped into the elevator. Travers prodded the button marked "11", and the doors slid creakily shut, the elevator rocking violently into motion.

They swayed slightly with the elevator, not speaking for several floors. Malfoy finally tried to strike up a conversation.
"I killed that squirrelly-looking Auror."

Travers, who had been analyzing the tile pattern on the floor, looked up as though surprised. "Did you? He's been tailing you for some time, hasn't he? Idiot. Should have brought backup."

Snape blinked. The Auror had been tailing Malfoy. That explained a lot. In all the "excitement", he'd forgotten that the Ministry couldn't keep tabs on magic cast illegally by adult wizards, at least not closely enough to send an Auror to the scene just moments after the crime was committed. The Auror must have been apparating after Malfoy wherever he went, just waiting for him to do something illegal.

There was something else, too. Malfoy hadn't killed that Auror. Why was he claiming that he had? Was it possible that he was embarrassed to have shown even as little mercy as he had?

Snape remembered the fountain. If Malfoy was capable of mercy, muggles certainly weren't benefiting from it.

"…Would have just killed them, too," Malfoy was saying. Travers snorted in reply. With a shake that nearly threw Snape off his feet, the elevator stopped. The doors slid open, revealing a dark hallway that might have been attractive but for its obvious mistreatment. Torn wallpaper, shattered vases, toppled tables, and large bloodstains on the walls all suggested there had been a chase here. Snape wondered if all the floors were like this. As with the chandeliers downstairs, most of the lights in the hallways had been shattered by the Reductor curse.

The three of them walked by dozens of numbered doors. Some of them showed signs of forced entry. The one at the end of the hall, set apart from the others, clearly belonged to the largest suite on the floor. Travers reached out and swung it open. They stepped into yet another dimly lit room, what appeared to be some kind of antechamber. A weak fire sizzled in a fireplace, and several Death Eaters sat around it in massive chairs.

Travers glanced at a closed door that presumably led to another part of the suite. "He's talking to Lestrange and that little tramp right now, I think. We'd better wait." He nodded towards the group around the fire, and he, Snape, and Malfoy walked over to join them, sliding into chairs of their own.

"You're back, Malfoy," said one of the others.

"Mhmm."

"Are you going to introduce me?"

"Wasn't planning on it."

The Death Eater slid off his hood, revealing closely-cropped blonde hair. He was a large man, and looked quite intelligent. He nodded to Snape.

"Yaxley."

Snape nodded back. "Uhm. Snape."

"Pleasure to meet you." Yaxley turned back to Malfoy, and took their conversation back up where it had left off.

"You're lucky. He got pretty pissed, while you were gone."

"What about?"

"Dumbledore's up to something. Forming some kind of resistance movement. Looks like it could be a much bigger threat to us than the Ministry."

"Resistance movement? So what?"

"Well, for starters, rumor is they've got Alastor Moody."

Malfoy's face took on a stony expression. Next to Snape, Travers shuddered softly. Snape raised a brow. "Moody?" he asked.

"Yaxley nodded. "Toughest damn Auror out there. It's bad enough having to deal with Dumbledore, but Moody…"

"Did you hear what he did to Chamberlain?" asked Travers.

"God, yeah."

Yaxley noticed the blank look on Snape's face, and turned back to him. "We used to have this guy, see. Chamberlain. He was in the Ministry. Low level, sure, but he was an asset. We were hoping to get him into a pretty powerful position, and then get him doing the Imperius Curse on his bosses. Right?"

Snape nodded. Yaxley's face turned suddenly grim. "Moody found out. The bastard bursts into Chamberlain's office one day, casts Reductus on everything in sight. The furniture starts going off like... like those things the muggles use in the war movies…"

"Grenades," said Travers.

"Yeah, like effin' grenades. So Chamberlain is like a goddamn pincushion, full up with pieces of his own damn desk, but he's still alive. His wand got busted, but lucky for him, he managed to fire a few curses of his own, and Moody's dropped his own wand, doesn't have time to go get it or else Chamberlain's gonna find some way to disapparate the hell out of there. So do you know what Moody does?"

Snape stared at him blankly. Yaxley pushed on.

"He grabs a goddamn table leg off the floor, and beats Chamberlain to death with it."

"Huh," said Snape.

The Death Eaters sat in silence for a moment. Travers shook his head regretfully.

"The funny part is," Yaxley eventually said, "Moody actually got into trouble for it with the Ministry. Bastard does our cause more damage than all the other Aurors combined, and gets reprimanded for it! He told the Wizengamot he was just trying to knock Chamberlain out, but hit him a little too hard by mistake. Guy as big as Moody, though, I guess it's pretty tough to hit soft."

One of the Death Eaters Snape hadn't met yet shuddered in his seat. Malfoy laughed coldly.

"Don't worry, Crabbe, I'm sure that, should you encounter Moody, you'll be able to surrender long before he manages to kill you."

Travers smirked. The one called Crabbe grunted, but didn't try to defend himself.

Snape noticed Yaxley was looking at the room's inside door, and followed the man's gaze. The door had swung open, seemingly of its own accord.

"Looks like he's ready to meet you, Snape," Yaxley said.

Snape stood up. He felt the skin on his arms tingle; the goose bumps raising had nothing to do with the inadequate heat coming from the fire.

Travers got up and walked towards the door, gesturing for Snape to follow him. Malfoy came after them. Yaxley watched them with interest, as though he was wondering which of them would ever come back out of the room again.

The first thing Snape noticed after walking through the door were the cold eyes of Bellatrix Black, who was standing against the back wall next to Rodolphus. She looked positively horrified to see him. Rodolphus, on the other hand, appeared quite pleased, and winked at Snape. The room was round, and populated mostly with bookshelves lined up along the walls. Travers pushed Snape into the center of the room. Travers and Malfoy, having shut the door behind them, now both stood against the wall of the room opposite Bellatrix and Rodolphus. Snape wondered what was so dangerous about entering the little study's center.

All he had to do to find out was look up. An ornately carved mahogany desk sat to one side of the room. It was badly cluttered with books, some of them appearing to be quite ancient. One that had fallen to the floor in front of the desk had the words "Darkest Magicks" scrawled across its spine.

The desk and its contents, however, were mere footnotes in Snape's mind. He was much more concerned with the figure behind it. Lord Voldemort sat framed by the moonlight, which streamed in through a foggy, eight-paned window directly behind him. He was a tall man, thin, with a hard-edged face. His skin had a certain unhealthy pallor to it, though Snape didn't imagine it was any worse than his own. Voldemort's hands, spread over the opened tomes before him, were slim and long-fingered. His hair was badly thinned, growing in unhealthy looking black strands that clumped together into locks, most of them matted to his forehead. His eyes were a turbulent mix, appearing red at first glance, and yet revealing what seemed to be brown underneath that.

"Severus Snape," Voldemort said, his voice sharp and cold. Snape bowed, but feeling that it was not enough, quickly dropped to his hands and knees.

"I am not worthy, my Lord," he stuttered, and he meant it.

"No," said the Dark Lord, "But you will do. Malfoy has told me about you."

"I fear that he has exaggerated my abilities, my Lord," Snape found himself saying. He found himself very reluctant to lie to the Dark Lord.

"He told me you have brewed a perfect batch of Felix Felicis."

"Perfect, my lord, is in the eye of the beho—"

"When it comes to Felix Felicis," interrupted the cold voice, "It is either perfect, or it is trash. Do not be so quick to underestimate your abilities, Snape. Better to leave that to your enemies."

"Yes, my Lord."

"There have, Severus, been Potions Masters at Hogwarts whom could barely draft Felix Felicis, and yet you accomplished the feat before you even graduated. I'd imagine you are a better alchemist than any of my Death Eaters"

Snape felt a hot thrill shoot through him. It had as much to do with the Dark Lord using his first name as it did with the compliment he had received.

"So," The Dark Lord continued, "It is only fitting that you should become one of my Death Eaters. I have been told that this occupation is not uninteresting to you. I am sure you already realize that the only other choice is death." He said this casually, but his eyes narrowed before he spoke again, his voice even more ominous now that it had been. "I warn you, however, that it would be better for you to die a fast death now than to accept this position at my side if you are not ready for it."

Snape gazed into Voldemort's eyes. He felt incredibly sure in his desire to accept. He was as confident about it as he had ever been about nearly anything else in his life. And yet, there was still one thing about which he was surer. The Dark Lord faded into the background, and green eyes flashed before him. "Take care of yourself, okay?", he remembered, and his right hand felt suddenly warm.

"Snape!" came a harsh whisper from behind him, bringing him back to reality. His eyes regained focus on the pale figure behind the desk. He looked at the Dark Lord's eyes, and he wished that they could be green. He opened his mouth to speak… and he almost said "no". He almost told the Dark Lord that he would not, could not join him.

Almost.

"I wish to be a Death Eater, my Master."

"Good," Voldemort said, as though he had not noticed how long it had taken Snape to answer. "I am very confident that this will be a profitable relationship for the both of us, Severus Snape."

The Dark Lord turned his fiery gaze towards Rodolphus and Bellatrix.

"You two may go."

Bellatrix obeyed instantly, as did Rodolphus, but Snape could see the horror in Bellatrix's eyes. She had been holding out hope, no doubt, that the Dark Lord would kill Snape on the spot. Instead, Snape had gotten what was no doubt a much more flattering welcome than she had. He met her gaze as she passed him, and she shivered with rage. Travers and Malfoy followed after them, shutting the door behind.

Voldemort smiled, but it wasn't what most people think of when they imagine a smile. It wasn't like when Lily smiled. It was horrible.

And beautiful.

The cold voice rang out. "I am in the habit of giving new Death Eaters a little task to perform right away, Snape, to make sure they're up to task. Conveniently, I just happen to have something that needs doing."

Snape bowed at his waist. "Yes, my Lord."

"You will go with the younger Lestranges to Lewes, in the South. We have a few friends visiting from Europe, and I need someone to guide them up here. They are probably being followed. It will be dangerous."

"Yes, Master."

"You will find, Snape, that I needn't threaten death should my servants fail. Most missions you will be undertaking will grant certain death to failure without any need of my assistance.

"I understand."

"Yes, I'd imagine that you do. One more thing, Snape."

Snape stood, ready.

"Come forward."

He attempted to keep from shaking as he approached the Dark Lord. It was less fear than it was awe.

He had reached the desk.

"Your left arm."

Snape held it out.

"Roll up the sleeve of your… garment."

Snape did as he was instruction, revealing the exceedingly pale skin of his inner forearm.

Voldemort reached into his loose robes and pulled out a wand, long and pale, like one of his fingers. He pressed the end of it against Snape's forearm

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, Snape's vision whited out. The skin on his arm burned as though flaming hot embers had been poured onto it. He could feel molten flame burning through his skin and into his bone, pitting it and hollowing it, spreading up his arm, burning away everything that was him. He screamed, and screamed. He had never felt the agony of the Cruciatus curse, but he knew that it could not be as bad as this, for nothing could be.

Suddenly, it was over. Slowly, Snape's eyes regained their focus. He looked down at his arm, where there was now present a red tattoo of a snake slithering forth from the mouth of a malicious-looking skull.

Voldemort pocketed his wand, and smiled at Snape calmly.

"Sometimes, I urgently require my servants. When such times arrive, that mark will assist in… informing you of my need."

"Yes, my Lord."

"You may go. Depart with the others as soon as you can. Our guests will be expecting you."

Snape bowed again before leaving. He thought he could feel those turbulent eyes, red and brown, burning into the back of his head as he left the room, softly shutting the door behind him. As soon as he had taken a few steps from the portal, Travers walked up to him, grabbed his arm, and pulled up his sleeve.

The Death Eaters in the room cheered. Travers looked relieved, probably because, had the mark not been present, he would have been expected to duel with Snape. Malfoy looked relieved, too, no doubt also for reasons of his own personal safety.

The room had grown surprisingly loud. Rodolphus Lestrange was grinningly shaking one of Snape's hands, Bellatrix beside him trying to ignore the entire spectacle. The Death Eater Crabbe, having removed his hood to revel a chubby face with a bushy brown mustache, pumped Snape's other hand, muttering congratulations. Yaxley had thrown an arm over Snape's shoulder. It all seemed a bit far away.

"Stay out of trouble, okay?" Snape remembered.

He had been lying, after all.