Lord Voldemort knew what his newly-marked Death Eaters were made of. He knew how to cement their loyalty. A junior position at the Ministry for the half-blood would give him something to be grateful for; he ordered Rookwood to hire him. Lord Voldemort's actions always achieved multiple ends - Severus Snape had to be kept down, and a position at the Department of Mysteries was just the way to do that - the secrecy surrounding their work concealed the fact that they have been failing, floundering and accomplishing nothing, for years. He would be contained there, treading water, failing day in and day out, and with his eagerness to prove himself, he would resort to increased servility.

If nothing else, it was bound to be amusing.

Black still had a year left at Hogwarts - he would be used for gathering intelligence at the school. If he truly is related to Bellatrix, he is sure to prove a worthwhile warrior , Lord Voldemort told himself.

Severus anxiously prepared for his first day on the job. The Department's work had been highly classified, and rumor had it that they studied the depths of magic, and so, naturally, it had been a bastion of purebloods - only they could be trusted to understand the importance of secrecy and the true nature of magic. Only they and I. It was a higher honor than anything Severus had dared dream of.

Rookwood made an impressive speech: "We study the mysteries of nature and explore uncharted magical territory. Our employees enjoy an extraordinary amount of freedom, as they push the boundaries of magic itself, and manipulate the laws of nature."

He then walked him room by room and explained the Unspeakables' various assignments. One room had contained dissected Squib corpses; the Unspeakables there were working on isolating the source of magic in the body. The Hall of Prophecy contained dozens - hundreds - of jars, all prophecies, all reachable only to the person they concerned. Surely, most of these people are dead, and we'll never know if the prophecies had come true , Severus thought, baffled. Why keep them? A third room contained the Ministry's supply of time-turners - a fourth, animated brains that appeared to be parasitic, and to sap their hosts' own brainpower. Severus wondered to himself what would become of one of those poor brains if he set it on Dolph. The fifth room contained a river of Amorentia, the most powerful love potion known to wizardkind. It overwhelmed him, predictably enough, as the room smelled more like Regulus than Regulus (and a trace of the smell of old books and orchids, as well), and Rookwood had to pull him away by the elbow. Severus only heard the end of his sentence, "you must have guessed, the mysteries of love," and he berated himself, pay closer attention - you cannot lose this job.

By the end of the tour, however, one thing had become clear: Regulus was right. Severus's gift was startlingly rare. An entire department was dedicated to creating new spells, to exploring magic, to manipulating nature, and their accomplishments had been non-existent. The star Unspeakable had developed two or three spells; if the others had managed a slight improvement upon something that already existed, it was considered a glorious achievement. Severus wordlessly counted the number of spells he had developed since he first attempted it… he already had seven spells under his belt. It made no sense. It could not be, he had to be missing something. How have witchcraft and wizardry evolved at all since the Middle Ages? Have they evolved at all? Severus could not account for it, and the only explanation he could give himself was that it was a lack of imagination, whatever Regulus had said.

He quickly decided against revealing that he had outdone the entire Department by his 6th year. He thought back to the first trip on the Hogwarts Express, to the moment he directed James Potter's attention to himself… don't put another target on your own back, Snivellus. There has to be something more to it, than this. The greatest mystery in the Department of Mysteries was how little they had accomplished (Severus could not bring himself to say, even to himself, that he must be as unique as Regulus said he was).

The situation had an upside - apparently, he could indeed do whatever he wanted, especially as Rookwood's personal appointment. The distressing effect of the lack of guidance, the lack of a clear goal, was that he had time to think - too much. His mind kept wandering back to the marking ceremony. Surrounded, as he was, by people who proved how "unusual" he was by their very existence, he could not help it. He struggled with the memories of that night, and with how being unable to share them made him obsess about them, doubt them, constantly relive them. He forced himself to feel grateful to the Dark Lord despite them, even as part of him protested - this was supposed to bring you closer to Regulus, and to help you make something of yourself, and now there's yet another thing you can't tell him, and you're deliberately wasting your time.

The Mark went off, and the Death Eaters who had been summoned all appeared at the LeStranges' house.

Regulus was absent, of course - he was at school. The Dark Lord was not so unreasonable as to expect him to appear.

Just like Severus, All of them knelt as soon as they appeared, all of them addressed him as 'My Lord' and 'My Master'. Even Lucius, who clearly found this repugnant, who never would have thought to kneel to anyone. Severus tried to tell himself what he remembered was false, it did not happen. But if it did not happen, how come they all know exactly what to do?

His life had improved in every way since he'd been Marked. He was closer than ever to being Regulus's equal, he had a job others could only dream of, the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters had taken nothing from him, they had only given - and inside his head, everything was falling apart, slipping through his fingers. Again, his only recourse was to blame his sick, broken brain.

The Dark Lord ordered him to inform Regulus of his first task, and Severus accepted his orders. A meeting between the two of them would not look like a briefing - it made the most sense.

Regulus was pleased - the Dark Lord had found use for him even at Hogwarts, and had given him an assignment. He was to stalk a student, Eugenia Unguent, and report on her schedule. With the information he would give, Death Eaters would kidnap her from within the school and Dumbledore would become a laughingstock. Regulus felt perfectly at peace with playing a part in this operation - he could not make it public knowledge how well Dumbledore protected students at his school from, say, werewolves; Lupin had already graduated, and he knew he would look a fool if he attempted to tell the story now. If some nobody had to be "kidnapped" and returned to her parents with a couple of bruises for the world to know what Dumbledore was - it was fine by him.

He no longer needed to cast Gratia Felinae to walk very quietly, and no one noticed him as he tracked her.

The next time the Mark went off, Severus was surprised to find himself alone with the Dark Lord. He knew he must not rise from the floor, and he answered the Dark Lord's questions politely and respectfully - "I am still learning at the Department of Mysteries, My Lord," "I am looking forward to my next assignment, My Lord."

"You are a gifted potioneer, Severus," Lord Voldemort remarked, out of the blue. Severus hesitated to answer. "There is no point concealing it, Severus… there is no virtue in false modesty."

If I must, Severus told himself.

"Yes, Master, I am."

"Then you are to put your talent to use for me."

Severus was glad to be finally given an assignment he could understand.

"You will aid me in the fight against my most bitter enemy. You will brew the Drink of Despair. I have arranged for every expense

to be covered - every ingredient you might need. Understood?"

"Yes, My Lord. I promise."

Finally, Severus told himself. The Dark Lord's most bitter enemy… he did not need to say it aloud for Seveurs to understand whom he meant - Dumbledore. Dumbledore, who'd allowed Sirius to get away with murder, who'd punished Severus for being nearly killed, who'd allowed Potter to brag and spread lies until he finally wore Lily down, who would not even let Severus tell Regulus… Severus was very happy. Brewing the Drink of Despair for Dumbledore was exactly what he wanted to do, and he did not even know it until the Dark Lord assigned him to do it. Again, his chest expanded, he relaxed, and his gnawing doubt was silenced. He was exactly where he belonged.

"My Lord," Severus proclaimed - "it would be an honor."