Chapter 14: The Third Task

If there had been a fracture in the Marauders, it didn't take long for them to fix it, as far as Severus could tell.

James Potter seemed quite pleased with how things had turned out, for he had clearly heard how Severus and Lily were no longer together.

Severus found himself alone more and more. Of course, he should have expected that Mary and Remus would side with Lily, and once again, he cured his foul tongue for ever uttering that wretched word.

The Prefect patrols with his best friend had discontinued now. When the Head Boys and Girls would hand out the assignments during the evenings, Severus always found himself staring at Lily, but she never so much as looked in his direction. She always made sure to pair off with Remus, her fellow Gryffindor and, failing that, either Mary whenever Remus was away during the full moon, or with a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. One time, Severus was randomly assigned to patrol the corridors with Mary MacDonald, who didn't say so much as five words to him the entire night. At least she was happy and secure in her relationship with the werewolf. At the end of their shift, when Severus had finally cracked and pleaded with Mary for advice about what to do, the Irish beauty had merely sighed.

"Show her that you're remorseful, Severus. You really, really hurt her."

"Does she at least miss me?" Severus could feel the tears stinging his eyes.

Mary at least had the decency to take pity on him. "She…. does," she admitted, haltingly. "She might never admit it, but I've been her best girlfriend since we were 11. I can tell. And I can also tell that she'll never make the first move to welcome you back. You and I both know she's way too stubborn for that. And in any case, the onus is on you to fix this." With that, she had flounced away, leaving Severus alone in the corridor to his thoughts. He had wanted to ask Mary how he could make it up to Lily, but even if he had, he doubted she would have been so free in her advice. It would have felt like spoon-feeding, and Severus had enough self-respect to be above that.

Though there were only a few OWL examinations left to take, Severus was unable to concentrate on studying when all his thoughts were consumed with Lily. He didn't bother to study much at all, in fact, and yet he still managed to pass his remaining tests even though he went into them cold. With a bit of application, he conceded he could have done better on maybe one or two (he noted with actual pride how Lily had beaten his marks in Charms), but he was still too depressed to very much care.

And anyhow, there were other things on his plate. End of term came and with it, the Third Task. The day before it was to be held, Dumbledore had announced the format – a Wizard's duel. Three would take place in total, with the first two occurring simultaneously as preliminary rounds based on the Champions' rankings.

Despite coming in dead last in the Second Task (and returning to the surface with only minutes to spare), Severus's exceptional performance in the First Task had cushioned him in terms of points. He was in second place behind Ilvermorny champion Chad Quayle, who had won the Second Task outright and edged just below Severus in the First. In the aggregate, Quayle now held a slim lead, with Igor Youngkin of Durmstrang in 3rd place and Eponine de Ursula a distant 4th.

On that balmy June night, out on the Quidditch pitch and with everyone packed into the stands, Severus was assigned to battle Eponine. Quayle and Youngkin would square off, as the 1st and 3rd placed Champions.

Severus was fairly confident he could take Eponine. He invented his own spells on the side, and the rules didn't say one couldn't use curses not officially sanctioned by the Ministry. The exception, of course, though never stated outright, was the Unforgivable Curses.

At the same time, as a fifth year, Severus had one reason to be nervous: he didn't know the first thing about wizard's dueling. Students in Hogwarts weren't given lessons on the subject until they reached seventh year Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. It was a skill reserved only for those beyond the NEWT level. Add to that the fact that his spat with Lily had made him more aware to the fact that he would now be dueling a girl. Should he go easy on Eponine? He didn't know, though he feared if he did, she would get the best of him and he would be knocked out of the Tournament running entirely. He couldn't let that happen. Winning the Tournament might not mean regaining Lily's affections, but taking the trophy might go a long way in impressing her.

"Single elimination rounds, Champions!" Dumbledore called. "Face off, and bow."

Severus and Eponine approached each other, held their wands in front of their faces opposite each other, then flicked them down and bowed. Turning away, the adversaries counted off paces, then got into their dueling stances.

"Three… two…. one!"

"Expelliarmus!" Eponine shouted.

"Protego!" Severus shouted.

Eponine's curse rebounded, so that she was divested of her own wand, which went flying up and behind her. As she was turning to retrieve it, Severus thought quickly, turning to one of his own spells.

"Langlock!"

Eponine's tongue got stuck to the roof of her mouth. Without it, she couldn't make a sound or utter any kind of incantation of magic. Severus smirked. He had her – right where he wanted her.

Unable to even speak spells to defend herself, Eponine managed to retrieve her wand by hand, but could not utter any curses. But before Severus could close in for the final kill, a sudden burst of light emanated from Eponine's wand.

Severus suddenly found himself doubled over, vomiting uncontrollably. Up in the stands, he could clearly hear Potter and Black howling louder than all the others. Non-spoken magic. He should have known and been more careful.

As Eponine advanced, still affected by Langlock, though that would wear off soon, Severus thought fast. He needed to make a counter-punch.

Timing it right, he waited until the brief window of time between hurling to croak out, "Stupefy! Stupefy!"

He managed to say it twice, quickly, before the vomiting overtook him again. Not expecting it, Eponine couldn't block in time, and she crumpled, unconscious, to the ground. A Tournament official came over, checked Eponine's pulse, then began the countdown. Severus seemed to recall that something similar happened in a Muggle sport Lily called boxing.

"8….. 9….. 10!" The crowd chanted along with the referee.

"Winner!" The referee called, lifting Severus's fist on high. In return, Severus spewed bile all over the man's suit, eliciting further laughter as he was led off to the side to recover and for the spell to wear off.

Flashes of light and crashes further down the pitch informed Severus that Quayle and Youngkin were still dueling, the battle perhaps more evenly matched than his and Eponine's had been.

There was a sudden flash of yellow light, and Youngkin was sprawled on his back, covered in boils and screaming horribly. His wand was also splintered in half. He had lost, with Quayle standing winded, but satisfied.

As Youngkin was lifted and carried away on a stretcher, Severus was escorted back onto the pitch to face Quayle. By now, his vomiting at the hands of Eponine had ceased, and he could breathe, a little. Taking deep breaths, Severus and Quayle flicked their wands in front of their faces and bowed to each other, before pacing off.

"3…. 2…. 1….."

"Petrificus Totalus!"

"Proteg…." Severus couldn't finish it before the purple light caused his body to go rigid. He keeled over backwards, and could only watch as Quayle approached, almost strolling, the trophy good and won. It was a low blow, perhaps worse than the Langlock curse he had tried with Eponine, and Severus struggled frantically.

"FINISH HIM!" Someone bellowed from up high in the stands. It sounded like Potter.

Severus thought desperately. I need a weapon!

Then, seeing his wand still clutched in his frozen fingers, he got an idea.

As Quayle lifted his wand, Severus shouted in his head a piece of non-verbal magic.

SECTUMSEMPRA!

As his wand was still frozen and parallel to the ground, the blast of magical light could only emanate at a certain level, but it was enough. There was a slash as Quayle's trousers tore, blood suddenly flowing freely down his legs, and in total shock, the Ilvermorny champion sank to his knees.

Grinning internally, Severus tried it again.

SECTUMSEMPRA! SECTUMSEMPRA! SECTUMSEMPRA!

More slashes cut into Quayle's face, his hands, his chest, and he howled in agony as blood continued to flow from him, until he was too weak to stand or fight back. He crumpled in a heap beside Severus, chillingly still. A minute later, the Petrificus Totalus spell wore off, and Severus struggled to his feet.

The Quidditch pitch was deathly quiet as Severus prowled over to where Quayle was shaking, terrified and losing blood fast. His face was ghastly pale.

"Where did that come from?!" someone bellowed out from above. Severus couldn't tell who it was.

A Tournament official dashed forward and checked Quayle over, open-mouthed. The Ilvermorny champion's wand slipped from his fingers in defeat.

That was what made Severus clue in, and he quickly began to sweep his wand around and perform the countercurse, binding up Quayle's wounds, and just in time too. Though alive, Quayle was still frighteningly weak as like Youngkin before him, he was lifted onto a stretched and led away.

Severus was crowned the winner of the Triwizard Tournament, but there was no cheering. No excitement the way that Severus might have imagined. And when, with his trophy, he spotted Lily from a slight distance in the dispersing crowd, their eyes met. But Lily didn't look impressed. No, she looked…. Afraid. Afraid of him. More than that, she was…. disappointed.

The look in her normally effervescent eyes chilled Severus's bones.

Only two positives came out of that night. The Marauders were quite subdued, as Severus watched them jostle past him into the castle. Sirius was the only one who shot him a dirty look, but there was satisfyingly a little bit of leeriness there as well. Also, Avery and Mulciber seemed thrilled.

"Did you see the American tosser's face?" Mulciber crowed, squeezing Severus in a bear hug. "You were right brilliant, Snape! What spell is that? You've gotta teach it to me!"

"Later," Severus dismissed, setting the trophy down heavily beside his four-poster. When he glanced up, he observed Avery and Mulciber exchange knowing grins. "What?"

"Congratulations, my boy. We think you're ready."

"Ready for what?" Severus was confused.

Mulciber's answering smile was positively lecherous. "Follow us."

After the near-rape of Mary MacDonald under the Whomping Willow, Severus should have been more wary of going anywhere with Avery and Mulciber ever again. Still, his curiosity compelled him to let his two Slytherin buddies lead him out of the castle, across the grounds until they were beyond the gates of Hogwarts. Tucking him into their side, Avery and Mulciber Disapparated, giving Severus the sensation of being squeezed through a very thin tube.

The three emerged onto a windswept hill. Down the next slope, in a tiny valley, was what appeared to be an abandoned farmhouse. All of the windows were dark, but Severus did not allow himself to show any fear as his friends led him inside.

"Our Lord: may we proudly present Master Severus Snape, Esquire, the winner of the Triwiard Tournament!"

A hooded figure in a dark cloak turned slowly around in a swivel chair that seemed unnaturally tall. Clearly, magic had manipulated it to resemble a throne. A gnarled hand, white as bone, lifted an impressive looking wand.

"Lumos!"

Hundreds of floating candles suddenly flooded the room with light, revealing more hooded acolytes standing like sentinels against the walls of this little farmhouse. Then the figure in the swivel chair threw back his hood, and Severus's jaw dropped in awe.

The one they called Lord Voldemort was strikingly handsome. Charismatic, even down to the way he held himself. Curly brown hair fell into his forehead, which crowned an unblemished face. His eyes were piercing, pools of black. When he smiled, Severus didn't know quite what to make of it: it was unsettling, and yet soothing in its way, all at the same time.

"Ah, Mr. Snape. May I be the first to wish you Congratulations on your victory. My advisers have informed me that it was… quite impressive."

"Th…. Thank you, sir." A pause, and then he quickly amended, "My Lord."

"Always be aware how you address His Lordship, Severus," Avery admonished, a slight warning in his voice.

"Oh, tut, tut, Avery – either one will do. Clearly, the boy knows how to show deference to his elders…. which is more than I can say for some of the people gathered here." Voldemort's eyes swept the room, a sharp glare as piercing as a laser cowing all of the figures assembled. The Dark Lord didn't name specific trespassers of transgressions, and perhaps felt himself sufficiently above it so that he didn't need to.

Voldemort almost glided over to Severus, reaching out a bony hand to cup his cheek, studying him. "Avery and Mulciber tell me you would make a fine candidate for my esteemed ranks. What say you to that, Severus?"

Severus gulped. "I would consider it an honor, sir."

Voldemort smiled. "Well said." His smile was so twistedly nurturing that Severus thought for a moment the man might pat him on the head. Voldemort spun away so that his cloak gave a little, impressive SNAP in the breeze. "Now, it has come to my attention that you won this Tournament with a rather…. unique spell. Pray tell, what was it called?"

"Sectumsempra, my Lord. It's a bloodletting spell."

"Really? Is it, now? I never imagined such a thing was possible!" Voldemort looked intrigued, pleased. "An original?"

"Yes, sir. I invented it, and the countercurse."

"Praise be!" And if Severus didn't know any better, he thought Voldemort looked truly…. impressed. "Inventing spells at only fifteen! We need brilliant, ambitious men such as yourself, Mr. Snape. Or am I permitted to call you Severus?"

"You…." Severus cleared his throat. "You are permitted to call me whatever you wish, my Lord!"

Voldemort chuckled. "What a delightful youth!" he marveled. "Very well-bred, even if he is a half-blood." Severus couldn't fight the flinch that overtook him.

A pause, and then:

"Show me."

Severus blinked. "Sir?"

"Show me."

"What means your Lordship?"

"Show me Sectumsempra, of course!" Voldemort laughed. "Why don't you perform it on…. Mulciber. Be a good volunteer, boy, and step forward."

All the color seemed to have drained from Mulciber's face, yet he somehow found the strength to take a shaky step forward.

"Face the boy, Mulciber, so he can see the whites of your eyes."

Mulciber was by now visibly trembling, but he did as his Lord asked.

Voldemort ceded the floor with an overly polite, sweeping bow. "The floor is yours, Severus. Give us a demonstration of what made you a Champion."

Severus looked into Mulciber's terrified face, and recalled how this classmate of his had looked, when he had been prepared to rape a Gryffindor, Mary MacDonald. How Mulciber had sometimes leered at Lily, the lust apparent, which had always set Severus's blood to boil. This summoned the anger he needed to slash with his wand; though, he didn't make a sound, the words of the spell in his head were deafening.

SECTUMSEMPRA! SECTUMSEMPRA! SECTUMSEMPRA!

Severus didn't stop until Mulciber was a quivering, bleeding mess on the floor. Lip curled into a sneer, he looked to Voldemort almost like an automaton. The Dark Lord waited an uncomfortable few moments before, with a nod of his head, permitted Severus to begin the countercurse – although Voldemort appeared as though he could care less, as if to say, Well…. if you must, you must.

Everyone present held their applause until Mulciber was healed and shakily led away.

"And cast nonverbally too! My mind is made up, Severus: I must have you join our cause. You are far too valuable to allow your talents to be wasted."

Avery's jaw dropped. Though he had brought him here on a recommendation, he was still stunned by how the Dark Lord had taken to their potential new recruit so well. "My Lord…. Do you mean to say you wish for Severus to take the Dark Mark now?"

"Oh, no, Avery, don't be silly!" Voldemort chuckled. "Though I have no doubt Severus will be ready quite soon. However, Severus, I must ask of you this:" and the Dark Lord leaned forward to look the young Slytherin in the eyes. "You must first complete your Hogwarts education before you come to me. Upon your graduation in two-year's time, you will come to me and receive the Dark Mark, along with your first assignment. Do you so swear?"

"My Lord…. If you are implying that I must agree to these terms with an Unbreakable Vow, I'd be more than happy to…."

"Oh, no, no, that won't be necessary. Though your transparency is quite appreciated," Voldemort almost beamed. "But now I'll ask again: do you so swear?"

After a moment, Severus gave a deep, fatalistic nod.

"I so swear."