The Daily Prophet 17 March 2000
The Wizengamot finally called for Saul Croaker's resignation last night. - I've been expecting this for some time now, says Ptolemy Bagshot, the Prophet's political commentator. - It's been obvious for months that Minister Croaker can't command the confidence of the Wizengamot, and more or less in secret, other candidates have rallied. I'll advise the public to look out for Kingsley Shacklebolt, Andromeda Tonks and as always, the old Pure-blood faction will show their hand with a somewhat dark horse. My guess is, it'll be someone who's redeemed after the war, maybe even Mr. Malfoy himself.
Hermione walked unsteadily, carefully Disillusioned, on the uneven stone floor. The corridor was long, with no lights, and after a while, she wondered how big this house really was. She must have moved at least a hundred metres, and still, she hadn't seen any signs of a stairwell. As she moved further, there were faint sounds coming from above, like it was a crowd gathering, many people talking at once, shouts of raucous laughter breaking through the din.
Luckily, the sound receded as she moved along, like the people were contained in a large chamber above, not spreading out over the entire house. At last, she saw the stairs, uneven, crudely hewn wooden steps leading up to a heavy door, large nails jutting out from the wooden frame.
Stopping below the stairs, she prodded at it, feeling the same wards attached to it. Sighing heavily, she started to pick the wards apart, slowly and methodically.
Xxxx
Arriving at his grandfather's estate in the north of Lancashire, last year's yellow, dead grass was long, snaring their feets as they moved. Between the racing clouds, the moon shone over the broken ruins of the manor, making the silhouette of the broken top tower stand out starkly against the white moonlight.
"Where is this?" Potter whispered.
Severus replied grimly: "My grandfather's estate, Prince Manor. No one has lived there for years and years, and the place fell into ruins during the first wizarding war."
Weasley - now disguised as a gangly seventh-year with dark hair and a pudgy face - muttered: "Why here, Professor?"
"Because it's empty and warded to the nines," he said sharply. "No one owns it either, as my grandfather preferred to destroy the place rather than let my mother inherit it. She was disinherited for marrying a Muggle."
They walked towards the house, the sound of their feet like an inevitable, slow march. Seeing a faint light emerging from the ground floor, Severus said softly: "You might see things you can't - shouldn't - stomach. Remember the objective - save Hermione - let the others go. We can't do anything. Prepare for the worst. You, Mr. Weasley, must even pretend to enjoy it. As must I."
But then again, he could pretend to enjoy it underneath his old mask. Weasley would need to control his face.
Xxxx
The door swung open, and outside, she saw an open-mouthed Francis Heron staring at the nothing of her Disillusioned form.
"What the hell?" he said in disbelief, before muttering: "Damned drafty house, can't believe the wind could blow open a door that heavy, though."
That made her almost gape in disbelief too. There was no end to this man's stupidity. Here he was, guarding the door against a war veteran, and he thought the door opening was a draft?
Then her eyes narrowed. Heron - it had to be him that had kidnapped her. He was in league with the Death Eaters, then. He wasn't only stupid, he was evil too?
Stomping steps came down the hallway, and her former schoolmate, Gregory Goyle, came around the corner. Looking more like a thick barrel than anything else, he barked at Heron: "The leader says to get the prisoner. He's about to present her to our brethren."
"Alright," Francis said with an annoyed glance. "I'll get her, boy, no need for you to interfere."
Goyle shrugged. "Just following orders, man, as are you. I'm here to make certain you aren't interfering with the prisoner. The leader seems to think you want to fuck her. She's going unspoilt on the show, because she'll be a present for some big shot who's joining us tonight."
"Who?" Francis said suspiciously, brown eyes narrowing, as he straightened himself, glaring at the younger man.
""I don't know," Goyle said indifferently. "The only thing the leader said was that she's not available before after he's done with her. After that, she's free to pass around. You can rape her all you want later."
Francis blinked, a hungry look in his eyes. "She's so snooty, thinks she's so much better than us. I'll love to take her down a peg."
"Sure thing," Goyle shrugged, his heavy shoulders barely moving. "As I remember, she's a bit of a prude, so I don't think she'd be that fun to play with. Probably too proud to scream, even. Suit yourself, old man."
Hermione felt anger rising in her, standing stock still, as the two men turned to go down the stairs. They'd discover her absence within minutes, probably raising an alarm. Filthy, evil little bastards, both of them, ready to attack, rape and kill, wanting to destroy herself - she had to take them out, quickly and silently. Take no prisoners!
Not really thinking through it, she felt all her rage build, gather to a sharp point, filling her, extending the limits of her body, rising like a tidal wave, ready to crash against the bodies of the two others. With a whisper, it left her, green light shooting forth, as she hissed: "Avada Kedavra!"
It felt like bliss hissing through her body, leaving a dark smudge behind like the rotten remains of something dead and horrid, but at the same time, it was so good, so very satisfying, like a sudden high spiking, making her want more .
The two men tumbled down the stairs, landing in a heap at the bottom.
Hermione blinked. This was too easy, and it was … frighteningly ... good. No wonder people wanted such a fix, if using the darkest kinds of magic made you feel like this. So very good, to the detriment of one's soul.
Though, she could ruminate later. This was not the right time: This was a time for action, for securing her own survival.
Silently, she moved back downstairs after them, prying their wands out of their dead hands, horrified that she had performed the most Unforgivable Curse of them all, but also partly amazed that she had managed to do it wandlessly. It was clearly wrong to be proud of achieving such a thing, though it WAS a magical feat that very few would be able to do. Maybe only Severus - and now her. Maybe she would get out of this place alive and unharmed.
Xxxx
As they stepped into what had been the Hall of his grandfather's home, Severus saw it was filled to the brim. Most had black cowls, but only a few had masks. Severus smiled grimly, knowing that the old Inner Circle was greatly reduced, thanks to himself. He nodded curtly at Weasley, and the man sauntered off, looking like he had every right to be in a Death Eater meeting. He was looking around, like he was searching for friends, though he was looking for signs of Hermione.
Severus glanced around, probing for her magical signature, feeling the flare of her magic somewhere outside the Hall, to the left.
From the corner of his mouth, he muttered to Potter: "She's here. Outside the Hall, somewhere to the left. Get Weasley, go search for her. I'll keep them busy here."
A faint mutter of "yes, sir," reached his ears, and he nodded grimly, before striding forward to the middle of the throng.
The cowled leader stood tall, having fashioned himself a mask reminiscent of Voldemort's snake-like features, the remaining Inner Circle around him.
Severus elbowed people aside brusquely - those who knew the visage of his mask knew who he was anyway, and had no expectations of him being polite, while the others merely recognized someone of a higher rank - and knelt before the man he had come to kill.
"Rise," Kingsley said slowly. Setting a Sonorous on his throat, his voice rang out: "Friends! One of our own has returned to us, one that will strengthen our cause and solidify our work. You all thought he betrayed us, but he never did, staying true to the cause. I give you… Severus Snape!"
Gasps and angry mutters came from the crowd, and many stretched their necks, trying to get a glimpse of him.
As Severus rose, he saw Lucius' mask straight ahead, and the man gave him a small nod. And suddenly, he knew his chances for getting out alive were very much improved. On his side, there wasn't only the half-trained boys he had brought along for the rescue, but he had a seasoned, devious friend as well. Or rather friends, in plural.
Kingsley continued: "As many of you have suspected, Severus has been guarding a secret treasure from the interference of the Ministry. A true, living treasure for all of us, the one who will, one day, take up her father's mantle as a symbol of Pure blood and magical might. Yes, Severus is the guardian of the Dark Lord's daughter. He has been keeping her safe, raising the child in secret."
The mumbling grew, changing from shock and anger to curiosity. Oh, he knew very well how they felt about Morgana. She was the link to Voldemort, to glorious magical power, and if given the chance, they would turn her into the darkest of witches. The one who controlled Morgana, controlled the Death Eaters. And Kingsley, he had bought Severus' assurance that he'd comply with Kingsley wishes hook, line and sinker. As if Severus would ever give up the child to anyone.
Raising his voice, a wordless "Sonorous " to his scarred throat, he said: "Our late Lord gave me a task, to see to her safety at all costs. The time has come to return her to you, to us all. She will grow up to be our Queen and ruler, under my protection as her Godfather."
There was a small movement to Kingsley's hands, like he was suddenly unsure if Severus would stick to their plan.
Keeping his face blank, he noted the tiny, imperceptible nods from his longtime allies. Evan Avery, Damien Rosier, Corban Yaxley, Edward Selwyn and Fredo Travers all shifted slightly, their stances more alert underneath their robes, and made him smile behind his mask. Oh, they'd sit on the fence, cheering on him, though they wouldn't risk their hides until it was clear he was the victor. And afterwards, they would execute his plan, together with Lucius. Because being a Slytherin meant to have a plan, to stay ahead. Being a Slytherin meant to be the one who won.
Xxxx
Hermione stopped, hesitantly. The smart thing was to get the hell out of here, fast. The right thing to do was to Glamour herself, go in there and help Severus. He'd be here tonight, with Harry, to take down Kingsley. She had wanted to help, and with a wand, she was hardly helpless, though her body still ached all over.
Hefting the stolen wands in her hands - a willow wand, while the other seemed to be a blackthorn - she tried them both, giving a little swish and flick, before deciding that there was barely a difference for her. Both of them seemed to be poorly suited. Or maybe the wands disliked her killing their owners. A cold shiver crept down her spine, and she pushed those thoughts away.
Decisively, she chose the willow wand for her right hand, though she kept the blackthorn hidden in her left sleeve too, just in case. Setting a Glamour, she changed her looks from a young woman into an older, hair darkened, shortened with silver streaks, her eyes turning sky blue, like Ron's, and her body growing stockier. Yes, she did a good Glamour.
Transfiguring her clothes into a nondescript black robe, she pulled down her Disillusionment Charm, walking briskly towards the noise from the gathering.
Just outside the doors, she heard a loud voice: "The present should have been here by now, Severus. Just a minute …. Young Parkinson, you wouldn't mind checking upon Goyle and Heron, will you?"
"A present?" Severus' deep voice was a comfort, though the tone of his voice was as disdainful and cold as she'd ever heard it. As if he was a Death Eater, through and through. She wondered if he had discovered her absence. Would he be scared, or nervous?
The door opened, and a young, dark-haired fellow trotted outside, brushing past her. The door stayed open for a little too long, like there was someone else following, and she couldn't help it, sending a tiny probe into the draft.
Someone invisible, someone very well hidden, a magical signature she knew so very well…
As the door closed, she whispered: "Harry? …And … Ron?"
Xxxx
A present. The foolish man had ordered the capture of Hermione. Oh, he expected him to … perform, did he? Like in the old days? Well, if he wasn't here to kill him already, this would be it.
Severus felt rage begin to smolder somewhere on the inside. Like little curling licks of flame, catching on tinder, sparking, growing to a behemoth of a fire, engulfing him. If the eyes really were the mirror of the soul, his would be as red as the Dark Lord's right now. But that saying was just that: A saying. His eyes were just as dead and black as usual, and his mouth curled faintly, saying to Kingsley: "A present? How …. exciting."
"People tell me they miss your shows," Kingsley said. "I know you will enjoy this one, breaking her fully, like the little Mudblood bitch she is."
"I see," he said tonelessly, palming his wand.
At the far end of the room, he saw Weasley-turned-Parkinson re-enter the room, with an unknown, older woman - and the door stayed open too long, probably to admit Potter too.
And that woman… Fuck, she was here. He could feel her magical signature, it was vibrating against his bones, like she was a missing part of himself. She hadn't left, just Glamoured herself.
He almost grinned in relief, seeing her walking upright, clearly capable of doing magic, not as an abused and tormented prisoner, but at the same time, he was angry she hadn't been carted off to safety. But what did he expect? Had Potter and Weasley - and Hermione - ever did as they were told? Still, she was alive. She was free. This was still salvageable.
Lucius met his eyes, and he nodded faintly.
Turning to Kingsley, he said loudly, arrogantly: ""I can't see any presents. Are you not even able to present gifts in a timely fashion?"
"What?" Kingsley blinked, clearly not used to people putting him down anymore.
With a sneer, Severus said: "I don't think you have it in you. You're not strong enough to rule the Death Eaters."
Murmurs died down slowly, as Severus walked up to Kingsley, pulling down his mask and slapped his face: "I challenge you."
The silence in the ruined hall was sudden, and felt like a ringing in his ears.
The old Inner Circle stepped hastily away, not wanting to get in the way of what would clearly be a spectacular fight, but others murmured, jostling forward for a better view, the promise of a fight between two powerful wizards seeming to be alluring.
Kingsley's mouth worked soundlessly, like he'd never believed Severus would dare to challenge him.
"You should know," Severus drawled, "or - you don't, which is a part of the problem - that our Lord never stopped a duel. He kept a strict rule, if you cannot answer a challenge, you have lost. What will it be, little Auror? You were barely initiated when he fell, certainly not ready for taking the reins of the Lord's most loyal."
The crowd moved restlessly around them, making a circle, but no one contested what he said. Instead, they were eager for blood, whether it was Kingsley's or his own.
Xxxx
Hermione stared at Severus, issuing his challenge so arrogantly, so haughtily. Was he really that confident? Was he… overconfident? Kingsley was a very accomplished Auror, an Order member - or rather, a former one, she supposed, and he was considered very strong. Though she didn't doubt Severus' power, she thought it unwise to underestimate Kingsley.
Besides, seeing Kingsley was painful. His betrayal was … hurtful. She had trusted him, to the very end in the Final Battle, and now this. Had the lure of power when he was refused as Minister, been too much, or had he always been partial to Voldemort's side? He was a true Pure-blood, from an old well-respected family, but still…
Kingsley drew himself up, staring Severus in the eyes, and grinned viciously.
"Oh, you show your true colours at last, don't you, Severus?" he said, voice dripping with venom. "It was never enough for you to be second in command. So ambitious, staying in the shadows, biding your time."
"Yes," her lover gritted out, his eyes glittering strangely, "just like a true Slytherin."
Xxxx
The trade of spells started immediately. Severus threw an impressive Expulso, blue lights flashing, deflected easily by Kingsley, who in turn cast a Confringo, blasting a whole in the old, rotting wooden floor, revealing the stone cellars below through a gaping hole. The floor creaked ominously, and the crowd of Death Eaters retreated hastily, forming a wider circle around the battling wizards.
Almost lazily, Severus responded with a yellowish curse, blooming into life with a sickly flare, expanding as it hurtled towards Kingsley, engulfing him in a yellow smoke. A putrid stench filled the room, and Hermione couldn't help coughing, though a few spectators even retched.
When Kingsley emerged, he was huffing and puffing, like breathing had been difficult, casting a lightning quick Reductor in return. The impact on Severus' Shield made a crashing noise, like thunder, making many wince and cover their ears, and his quick response covered Kingsley in soot and dust, as the roof collapsed over his head, Kingsley Apparating a few metres away at the last moment.
Ron took her arm, dragging her back, hissing in her ear: "It's not safe, they might bring the house down!"
Soon, it was a blur, curses and hexes flashing in all colours, at times slicing through the Shields of both men, causing visible wounds and gashes.
"This isn't Ministry approved spells," Harry murmuring close to her ear, still invisible.
Hermione snorted, not taking her eyes away from the fireworks of spells. "I can imagine."
Many of the spells were unknown to her, and as Severus threw something inky black at Kingsley, making the man scream as darkness oozed through his Shield, she felt something cold trail down her spine.
This was … dark indeed. True dark spells, the kind taught by Voldemort to his closest followers, the real Inner Circle. Things no one else would know. Just Severus, and a few other of Voldemort's Chosen.
Her eyes were locked on Severus. Robed and masked - oh, he looked like a nightmare come to life from the war, wand and hands sprouting dark magic designed to kill. With a catch in her throat, she realized that no matter what he did - no matter what he had done to learn all those repulsive, illegal spells - she loved him, cheering him on.
The inky blackness spread out inside Kingsley's Shield, tendrils like long fingers reaching for him, latching on to his body, suctioning, like the darkness tried to rip him apart.
Kingsley, however, must have encountered a similar curse once, seasoned Auror that he was, because he managed to incinerate the darkness with a red flash, searing through the murkiness like the beam from a lighthouse.
Quickly, Severus thrust his arm forward, body moving like a fencer, a flash of blue leaving his wand, Slicing through Kingsley's Shield with a vicious Diffindo. Hermione saw a quick flash of satisfaction on his face, though the spell didn't seem to do anything, dissipating as it careened into his opponent's torso, seemingly harmless.
The masked Death Eaters, though, murmured in approval, and one of them even shouted - she thought it might be Lucius - an encouragement: "Good one, Severus! Haven't seen that in quite some time."
Xxxx
The Temerarius slid into Kingsley's body, settling there, and Severus couldn't help the quick grin of satisfaction. Only the Inner Circle would know the Dark Lord's own creations. The spell caused recklessness, both in the short term and in the long run, and most succumbed to it within minutes. Voldemort had used this spell on Dumbledore during the Battle of the Ministry, and while the old coot had won that round, seemingly resisting the curse, Severus was sure it influenced his decisions afterwards, what with trying on the Gaunt ring and keeping secrets like the Horcruxes from the Order.
The effect on Kingsley seemed fairly immediate, though.
"Avada Kedavra!" the man screamed, spittle flecking his mouth, and Severus ducked as the green light flashed above his head, instead hitting a spectator behind him. The dull thunk as the body hit the floor did nothing to appease the man in front of him, as another volley of green light careened towards him, hitting yet another person.
Quickly, Severus leapt into the air, the Lord's Volo spell keeping him airborne as he shot an Expulso down at Kingsley.
The man had good reflexes, though, jumping away as the spell blasted through the floor, creating another gaping hole in his grandfather's home.
Wisely, the crowd of spectators were now running towards the door - not a single one wanting to fall victim to a stray Avada - but of course, Hermione, Weasley and probably the still invisible Potter stayed.
Severus almost sighed - damned Gryffindors - as he alighted as far away from them as possible, trying to draw the line of fire away from them.
Another green lightning bolt pursued him, and he ducked, feeling sweat break out - maybe the Temerarius had been a rash choice - but he couldn't escape the following Diffindo.
Severus screamed as his left arm was neatly Sliced, his hand falling to the floor with a sudden thump, blood spurting out of the wound.
Merlin, he'd bleed out in seconds, if…
The old woman - Hermione - stepped forward, eyes blazing, throwing curses at Kingsley, distracting him.
Chest heaving, Severus tried to lift his wand arm to repair the damage - at least cauterize the wound, stopping the bleeding, but though he didn't feel any pain yet, just an all-encompassing numbness, his body was reacting to the trauma, his wand arm was shaking badly, his legs oddly wobbly.
Suddenly dizzy, his thoughts latched on the small bundles of warmth in his mind, his heart. Hermione… Morgana!
His thoughts were jumbled, frantic and oddly detached, as he suddenly envisioned a world where he had lost. What would become of his witch and his … daughter? Forcing himself to clear his mind, he closed off the pain, sealing it into a corner of his mind, to not let his panic nor his injury cloud his judgement. He couldn't lose!
From beside him, Potter's disembodied voice suddenly whispered: "Stay still, Professor, just a moment," and a searing pain cut through the stump of his arm, making him yell hoarsely.
There was an awful smell of seared meat, the stump of his arm smoking, and he knew, Potter had just saved his life.
Panting, forcing the pain away, he stumbled to his knees, seeing Hermione advance on Kingsley, wands outstretched - two wands - whenever had she gotten two wands? - firing spells at him from both hands, sending volley after volley of curses against her former ally, a barrage of magic directed right at Kingsley's Shield.
The man threw himself forward at her, just as she hit his Shield with a blunt Expulso, shattering it into pieces, using the Dark Lord's knowledge against the usurper, blasting the man's Shield en with an exemplary use of the Vir Mulier Scuto -theory.
Kingsley was momentarily shocked, but Severus gritted his teeth, sending the bundled up pain and rage into the Disintegration Curse.
The violent red light of the curse moved like a blur, hitting Kingsley squarely in the chest, and for a moment after the impact his form hung there, preserved in dust motes, before he burst apart, scattering in the draft coming through the fallen roof.
The silence was abrupt, and as Severus raised his head, he couldn't take in the devastation around him. The only thing he saw was Hermione, worry and happiness warring in her face as she sprinted towards him.
Xxxx
The silence had lasted only seconds when a head poked inside. It was Lucius, and he yelled over his shoulder to the others: "Snape won, long live our new leader!
Severus came to, blinking, as he heard the rustling of robes and feet re-entering the Hall.
He had to get up. To show weakness to the Death Eaters would be paramount to death.
Groaning, he heaved himself to his feet, feeling strangely unbalanced, like there was something wrong with his weight balance, the loss of his arm making him imbalanced. almost toppling over, but Hermione was by his side, supporting him as he rose.
"How are you," she whispered, looking pale and drawn.
"Not good," he muttered, "but… I'll live."
Forcing his Occlumency Shields back on, retreating into that strange blankness that had saved him hundreds of times in the presence of Voldemort and Dumbledore both, he gazed impassively on the throng now filing into his ancestral hall.
The rafters were broken, splintered, moonlight filtering through in places, making the silvery light meld and blend with the red light of fluttering torches, but the light couldn't touch the gaping holes to the dark cellars beneath.
It was a sea of black robes and cowls, leather masks signifying the old lower levels and very few of the old, ornamented metal masks. The sight would have been terrifying to anyone, knowing that the people behind the masks were ruthless killers and sadists, but not to Severus. They were his brethren. Those who knew what it was like to give in to darkness. Those who only bent for a power stronger than their own. Those who'd now bow to him.
Inside his chest, something like pride welled up, knowing that he now commanded the Death Eaters, standing in the Hall of his family. His younger self would have been so proud of this achievement, seeing it as the fulfillment of a lifetime. Being the first among equals, commanding dark magic and the might of his brethren for his own pleasure and gain. Yes, right now, Severus Snape was the new Dark Lord.
For a moment, he tottered on the brink of darkness, glorying in his victory, filled with a vision of how he could wield this power. If he stood by them, keeping the Death Eaters - what could he do with such power at his command? Surely, he'd do better than Voldemort. Surely, he could win. Ruling Britain, making everyone bow to him, his Lady by his side…
Slowly, Hermione squeezed his arm, grounding him to life, to her.
If he did, there would be no Hermione Granger in his life. No warm, willing witch who loved him for all his faults and darkness - because this was a kind of darkness and injustice she'd never stomach. She wouldn't want to be his dark lady, nevermind how much he would enjoy playing her Lord. He would have to force her.
No matter that, he had won the game. Severus Snape had taken control, won, and now he had the opportunity to take the world like he and his brethren deserved, cashing in on a different kind of victory. He would always do what it took to keep his brethren safe. That's what it meant to be a Slytherin.
Severus cleared his throat, and began his victory speech.