Daemon sat on Voldemort's window sill. The pair sat in a brooding silence, each contemplating his rise to power. Daemon's eyes were a deep, and dark liquor-coloured gold, and flickering touches of pale green dotted themselves around his pupils. "Do you think Weasley can get the job done?" Voldemort asked his apprentice quietly, his voice a hushed whisper that didn't fail to send icy chills through the night.

Daemon thought carefully before his answer. "I believe him to be incompetent, but my faith in you is unwavering, my Lord."

Voldemort's snakelike eyes glittered. "Hogsmeade…would you care to live there?" Daemon studied his master quietly. The fact that the words, "would you care" were uttered didn't mean that he actually had options, and he knew this well. He contemplated the move. An undercover operation was always a plus, but the happy people of Hogsmeade were negatives beyond negatives. A quiver of Voldemort's impatience coursed through the air.

"I'd be honoured," Daemon answered, knowing full and well that this was the response he was going to give any way. "How do I get to Potter?"

"Virginia Weasley. She's weak, she's soft, she's malleable, and she's bound to him by love." Daemon considered this and drifted away in the coaster of his own thoughts. He figured, according to Voldemort's normal way of operation he had just short of a week.

And so it was done, within a week, Daemon was a member of the Hogsmeade community. He'd been hired by Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop and settled into the Hog's Head quite nicely. No one questioned his sudden presence, and as he had come to understand, the genetically well designed were rarely burdened with annoying questions.

Professor Snape's class was becoming more rigorous by the day, taxing even Hermione, but she kept quiet about it. She felt as though he was preparing the best of the class for something, and signs of the rise of You-Know-Who were in every newspaper. Her classmates groaned in protest as each lesson brought their marks to a new low point. His traditional sneer only seemed to have the mark of glee in it as his students' collective tension and fury rose.

Sixth and seventh years were dropping his class like a bad habit, and his sneer grew to borderline smile as he taught his remaining students with ferocity, their assignments piling high. Dumbledore, despite his intuition, simply perceived Serverus's behaviour the way Hermione did—as a preparation for Voldemort's rise and let the idiosyncratic actions slide.