Chapter Nine: Malicious Plots and Illegitimacy
Disclaimer: Do I really have to do this anymore? We all know what I do and do not own already. We all know I am not being paid to write this insanity. We all know that I am doing it of my own free will. We all know that I would never take money for this. unless it was under the table and no one ever found out. but that is besides the point I am trying to make! Also I don't own the young lady introduced in this chapter. I made her up, but I don't own you, Mark. I am the one with your brand on my hand, princess. Also so what if I game Snape a middle name? The middle name is owned by me, but no part of Snape is, only the middle name, thank you very much. Also also also, I do not own the word Soron. It means eagle in Professor Tolkien's language of Quenya. I adore the genius professor by the way.
A large fire roared, warming the room. The seated figure was utterly alone with his thoughts. A lip-less grin passed over his face; leaving his eyes untouched by its mirthlessness. A few harsh words of Parsal tongue brought a huge boa constrictor into the room. "Yes-, my pet. It is almost time." Even in a common language, the seated figure's words hissed and writhed like living things. A small tap came from the door. "Enter Deatheater." The words drifted from the chair as the lone figure stroked the snake's large, scaled head. A new figure entered. Cloaked in long, flowing black robes, the only thing visible was the pale blonde hair streaming from below the hood, marking this Deatheater as Voldemort's favorite. "My Lord, the new recruits are here." Voldemort nodded. "Thank you, Lucius. I will see to them shortly." Bowing himself out of the room, Lucius quietly shut the door. "So, my pet." The Dark Lord hissed. "It is almost time. We will regain what was lost ten-fold." Voldemort sat back in his chair. Let the new ones sweat it out. He had bigger concerns. It had been so easy. Star Buck was standing in the main hall of this so- called Dark Lord's mansion with the other recruits. His sponsor, Lucius Malfoy himself, seemed pleased with the squirrel's cool demeanor and the robes, which hid his features. Blacktooth stood on the edge of the crowd, in back of the room, alone. He had nothing to add to the chatter of the new recruits, and wanted less to do with them. It was the old Deatheaters that interested him. Finally a dead hush fell over the room, as the imposing figure of the Dark Lord appeared at the top of the stairs. Every hooded head, young and old, turned to him and bowed. No one, except sponsor and recruit, knew for sure who was in the room, but Voldemort knew each and every one of them. Again the mirthless smile touched his lips and left his eyes cold. Star Buck's red eyes followed the large boa constrictor. "Young ones," Voldemort began. "You have come this far, which shows you are the best, but I only want the best of the best. So the final test has been prepared for each of you. For each it will be different, and for each it will result in death if you fail. I cannot allow you to go free now that you know where we are." Now the eyes lit with a fiery mirthful bloodlust. There would be much blood split in his name over these tests. Most of the young people in the hall, all so confident that they would be picked, would be dead by dawn. "Deatheaters, prepare them each." Every recruit left with their sponsor until only Lucius, Voldemort, and Star Buck were left. "So Lucius, you have brought me a special recruit?" "Yes, milord." Lucius motioned the hooded Remwefavson leader forward. "His name is Star Buck Blacktooth." "An intriguing name. How came you by it?" Voldemort questioned. "My creator gave it to me." I must keep my answers only the truth, but they must be brief and inconcise. "Your creator?" continued the Dark Lord. "Yes, My Lord Voldemort. My creator named me Star Buck Blacktooth." "Do you mean parent?" "No, creator." The heir of Slytherin raised a delicate eyebrow. "How do you mean creator?" "I mean the person that created me. I wasn't born a four-foot tall machete-wielding albino vampire squirrel." Star Buck removed his head and met Voldemort's stare with his own red eyes. If Voldemort was surprised, he didn't show it. "So you plan to serve me utterly and not serve your 'creator'?" "I do." The squirrel bowed slightly. "Then how shall you prove it to me?" A death-lust entered Blacktooth's eyes. "How does milord wish me to prove it?" He countered subserviently. Voldemort motioned to Lucius who clapped his hands together twice. Several Deatheaters dragged an entire family of Muggles into the room. The squirrel's gaze lingered over the two young children, eyes wide with wonder and fear over their surroundings. "Kill them, anyway you like." Star Buck raised an eyebrow. There had to be a catch here, but he drew his machete anyway. The blood lust was too strong to deny completely. So the squirrel attacked. He killed slowly, causing pain and fear to drive his victims before his onslaught. The children were the last to die, as he ripped open one's throat to drink of it life's blood and gutted the other upon his machete mercilessly. The silence that filled the air was split by the thunderclap of two hands coming together. The Dark Lord was applauding Blacktooth's display. Once she said she had business with one of the professors, the main doors had let her in with ease. How easy to get into the legendary Hogwarts. She thought in distaste. As luck, or something less pleasant, would have it, classes were changing as she began to wonder the halls. A flurry of students swept about her, but, as she was wearing all black, no one looked twice. Not too bright a bunch they've got here. She sneered to herself. Now let me see here. He'll be in the dungeons. She mused. Mom said he was always in the dungeons. With that thought in mind, the young lady made her way down the stairs toward the dungeons. She happened to be following two classes, the fifth year Gryffindors and the fifth year Slytherins. Even she could feel the tensions, which seemed centered on two boys. One, blonde haired, gray-eyed with a green and silver tie. The other, black haired, green eyed with a read and gold tie. A man walked at the lead of the class. She assumed he was a teacher of sorts, but his patched robes and shallow, ill-seeming look made her think otherwise. As the class entered a dungeon room, she caught sight of the professor, Severus Snape. Instantly, she slipped behind a statue to collect her wits. That is him. That has to be him, Severus Snape. He has the scowl, the hair, and the nose. It has to be him. What will I say to him? Her pulse was quick with excitement. What will he think of me? Will he believe me? Do I believe me? These questions and others drifting across her mind, she decided that now was better than later. So gripping her locket one last time and hiding it in her blouse, she opened the door to the Potions classroom. Harry sighed to himself. He longed for Potions to end. Draco was so close and yet so far. They had agreed not to tell anyone besides Hermione and Ron, but Harry hadn't even told them. He had forgotten or never gotten the chance. So Harry sat beside Remus and discretely watched Draco across the room. A lock of blonde hair had fallen out of place. Harry's hand itched to replace it, to soothe it back into place. "Mr. Potter." Harry's head whipped about to find Professor Snape glaring at him with his classic scowl. Was it his imagination or had Snape just flashed Remus the tiniest of smiles? "Yes, Professor?" Harry began to sweat. He hadn't been listening all class. "Perhaps, you could tell me what potion we're making today, if you're not too busy daydreaming, of course." Snape sneered cruelly. "I'll let the entire class out right now, if you can." Harry swore beneath his breath. That was the first thing Snape had said, and Harry couldn't recall it. He knew that if he didn't get this right the whole class would be furious with him. Just as he decided to take a guess with Polymorph potion, he was spared the embarrassment, even though Polymorph was correct. The door slammed authoritatively. Standing in front of it was a rather haughty, black haired young woman in what muggles were calling "goth-bondage" fashion. Of course, only about half the class knew that. The other half thought these to be the most bizarre and intriguing robes ever. Snape glared at the intruder. "What. do you. think you're doing?" He snarled through clenched teeth. She met his scowl steadily, unwaveringly with her own brown eyes. The whole class looked from the woman to their professor. Both wore a matching scowl, both looked almost exactly alike. If they didn't know better, they would have said the two were closely related. "I think I just broke up your class, daddy." She sneered at the look of shock and near horror on Snape's face. Remus, Harry noticed, looked just as shocked, although he also seemed a bit amused. Snape had regained his composure. "I have no daughter. You're mistaken. Now get out of my class." He hissed. The whole class felt the venom on his voice, but she ignored it. "Oh, but I'm not mistaken. I know I'm in the right room because you are Severus Allen Snape, my father." A very wise-ass smirk spread across her face as Severus' jaw dropped. "Class dismissed." He muttered in disbelief. When no one moved, he came back to himself and yelled at them. "I said, 'Class dismissed.' That means get out now!" His voice resounded about the quickly emptying classroom. As Remus stood to leave, Snape laid his hand on the werewolf's shoulder. "You stay." He whispered. When only the girl, Remus, and himself remained, the Potion's teacher turned to this obviously insane girl. "How do you know my middle name?" His eyes narrowed alarmingly until they were just mere slits. Snape's own classic scowl met him. "I know your middle name because mother told me it. She knew that if I knew your middle name, you would hear me out." "And who is your. mother?" snarled the professor. "Ambrosia Soron Nicademus was my mother, until she died. On her deathbed, she told me where to find you and what you middle name was, so that you were know what I said was true. Also she gave me this." The woman held out the locket. "She told me you gave it to her." The Potion's professor swooped down upon her like a giant bat to look at the locket. He knew it, so well. Yes, this is the locket I gave to Ambrosia before she ran away from me. Why did she leave me? Was it because she was pregnant with this. daughter of mine? He pondered. "What is your name? If you are my daughter, I must know your name." "My name is Andrea Talon Snape."
Disclaimer: Do I really have to do this anymore? We all know what I do and do not own already. We all know I am not being paid to write this insanity. We all know that I am doing it of my own free will. We all know that I would never take money for this. unless it was under the table and no one ever found out. but that is besides the point I am trying to make! Also I don't own the young lady introduced in this chapter. I made her up, but I don't own you, Mark. I am the one with your brand on my hand, princess. Also so what if I game Snape a middle name? The middle name is owned by me, but no part of Snape is, only the middle name, thank you very much. Also also also, I do not own the word Soron. It means eagle in Professor Tolkien's language of Quenya. I adore the genius professor by the way.
A large fire roared, warming the room. The seated figure was utterly alone with his thoughts. A lip-less grin passed over his face; leaving his eyes untouched by its mirthlessness. A few harsh words of Parsal tongue brought a huge boa constrictor into the room. "Yes-, my pet. It is almost time." Even in a common language, the seated figure's words hissed and writhed like living things. A small tap came from the door. "Enter Deatheater." The words drifted from the chair as the lone figure stroked the snake's large, scaled head. A new figure entered. Cloaked in long, flowing black robes, the only thing visible was the pale blonde hair streaming from below the hood, marking this Deatheater as Voldemort's favorite. "My Lord, the new recruits are here." Voldemort nodded. "Thank you, Lucius. I will see to them shortly." Bowing himself out of the room, Lucius quietly shut the door. "So, my pet." The Dark Lord hissed. "It is almost time. We will regain what was lost ten-fold." Voldemort sat back in his chair. Let the new ones sweat it out. He had bigger concerns. It had been so easy. Star Buck was standing in the main hall of this so- called Dark Lord's mansion with the other recruits. His sponsor, Lucius Malfoy himself, seemed pleased with the squirrel's cool demeanor and the robes, which hid his features. Blacktooth stood on the edge of the crowd, in back of the room, alone. He had nothing to add to the chatter of the new recruits, and wanted less to do with them. It was the old Deatheaters that interested him. Finally a dead hush fell over the room, as the imposing figure of the Dark Lord appeared at the top of the stairs. Every hooded head, young and old, turned to him and bowed. No one, except sponsor and recruit, knew for sure who was in the room, but Voldemort knew each and every one of them. Again the mirthless smile touched his lips and left his eyes cold. Star Buck's red eyes followed the large boa constrictor. "Young ones," Voldemort began. "You have come this far, which shows you are the best, but I only want the best of the best. So the final test has been prepared for each of you. For each it will be different, and for each it will result in death if you fail. I cannot allow you to go free now that you know where we are." Now the eyes lit with a fiery mirthful bloodlust. There would be much blood split in his name over these tests. Most of the young people in the hall, all so confident that they would be picked, would be dead by dawn. "Deatheaters, prepare them each." Every recruit left with their sponsor until only Lucius, Voldemort, and Star Buck were left. "So Lucius, you have brought me a special recruit?" "Yes, milord." Lucius motioned the hooded Remwefavson leader forward. "His name is Star Buck Blacktooth." "An intriguing name. How came you by it?" Voldemort questioned. "My creator gave it to me." I must keep my answers only the truth, but they must be brief and inconcise. "Your creator?" continued the Dark Lord. "Yes, My Lord Voldemort. My creator named me Star Buck Blacktooth." "Do you mean parent?" "No, creator." The heir of Slytherin raised a delicate eyebrow. "How do you mean creator?" "I mean the person that created me. I wasn't born a four-foot tall machete-wielding albino vampire squirrel." Star Buck removed his head and met Voldemort's stare with his own red eyes. If Voldemort was surprised, he didn't show it. "So you plan to serve me utterly and not serve your 'creator'?" "I do." The squirrel bowed slightly. "Then how shall you prove it to me?" A death-lust entered Blacktooth's eyes. "How does milord wish me to prove it?" He countered subserviently. Voldemort motioned to Lucius who clapped his hands together twice. Several Deatheaters dragged an entire family of Muggles into the room. The squirrel's gaze lingered over the two young children, eyes wide with wonder and fear over their surroundings. "Kill them, anyway you like." Star Buck raised an eyebrow. There had to be a catch here, but he drew his machete anyway. The blood lust was too strong to deny completely. So the squirrel attacked. He killed slowly, causing pain and fear to drive his victims before his onslaught. The children were the last to die, as he ripped open one's throat to drink of it life's blood and gutted the other upon his machete mercilessly. The silence that filled the air was split by the thunderclap of two hands coming together. The Dark Lord was applauding Blacktooth's display. Once she said she had business with one of the professors, the main doors had let her in with ease. How easy to get into the legendary Hogwarts. She thought in distaste. As luck, or something less pleasant, would have it, classes were changing as she began to wonder the halls. A flurry of students swept about her, but, as she was wearing all black, no one looked twice. Not too bright a bunch they've got here. She sneered to herself. Now let me see here. He'll be in the dungeons. She mused. Mom said he was always in the dungeons. With that thought in mind, the young lady made her way down the stairs toward the dungeons. She happened to be following two classes, the fifth year Gryffindors and the fifth year Slytherins. Even she could feel the tensions, which seemed centered on two boys. One, blonde haired, gray-eyed with a green and silver tie. The other, black haired, green eyed with a read and gold tie. A man walked at the lead of the class. She assumed he was a teacher of sorts, but his patched robes and shallow, ill-seeming look made her think otherwise. As the class entered a dungeon room, she caught sight of the professor, Severus Snape. Instantly, she slipped behind a statue to collect her wits. That is him. That has to be him, Severus Snape. He has the scowl, the hair, and the nose. It has to be him. What will I say to him? Her pulse was quick with excitement. What will he think of me? Will he believe me? Do I believe me? These questions and others drifting across her mind, she decided that now was better than later. So gripping her locket one last time and hiding it in her blouse, she opened the door to the Potions classroom. Harry sighed to himself. He longed for Potions to end. Draco was so close and yet so far. They had agreed not to tell anyone besides Hermione and Ron, but Harry hadn't even told them. He had forgotten or never gotten the chance. So Harry sat beside Remus and discretely watched Draco across the room. A lock of blonde hair had fallen out of place. Harry's hand itched to replace it, to soothe it back into place. "Mr. Potter." Harry's head whipped about to find Professor Snape glaring at him with his classic scowl. Was it his imagination or had Snape just flashed Remus the tiniest of smiles? "Yes, Professor?" Harry began to sweat. He hadn't been listening all class. "Perhaps, you could tell me what potion we're making today, if you're not too busy daydreaming, of course." Snape sneered cruelly. "I'll let the entire class out right now, if you can." Harry swore beneath his breath. That was the first thing Snape had said, and Harry couldn't recall it. He knew that if he didn't get this right the whole class would be furious with him. Just as he decided to take a guess with Polymorph potion, he was spared the embarrassment, even though Polymorph was correct. The door slammed authoritatively. Standing in front of it was a rather haughty, black haired young woman in what muggles were calling "goth-bondage" fashion. Of course, only about half the class knew that. The other half thought these to be the most bizarre and intriguing robes ever. Snape glared at the intruder. "What. do you. think you're doing?" He snarled through clenched teeth. She met his scowl steadily, unwaveringly with her own brown eyes. The whole class looked from the woman to their professor. Both wore a matching scowl, both looked almost exactly alike. If they didn't know better, they would have said the two were closely related. "I think I just broke up your class, daddy." She sneered at the look of shock and near horror on Snape's face. Remus, Harry noticed, looked just as shocked, although he also seemed a bit amused. Snape had regained his composure. "I have no daughter. You're mistaken. Now get out of my class." He hissed. The whole class felt the venom on his voice, but she ignored it. "Oh, but I'm not mistaken. I know I'm in the right room because you are Severus Allen Snape, my father." A very wise-ass smirk spread across her face as Severus' jaw dropped. "Class dismissed." He muttered in disbelief. When no one moved, he came back to himself and yelled at them. "I said, 'Class dismissed.' That means get out now!" His voice resounded about the quickly emptying classroom. As Remus stood to leave, Snape laid his hand on the werewolf's shoulder. "You stay." He whispered. When only the girl, Remus, and himself remained, the Potion's teacher turned to this obviously insane girl. "How do you know my middle name?" His eyes narrowed alarmingly until they were just mere slits. Snape's own classic scowl met him. "I know your middle name because mother told me it. She knew that if I knew your middle name, you would hear me out." "And who is your. mother?" snarled the professor. "Ambrosia Soron Nicademus was my mother, until she died. On her deathbed, she told me where to find you and what you middle name was, so that you were know what I said was true. Also she gave me this." The woman held out the locket. "She told me you gave it to her." The Potion's professor swooped down upon her like a giant bat to look at the locket. He knew it, so well. Yes, this is the locket I gave to Ambrosia before she ran away from me. Why did she leave me? Was it because she was pregnant with this. daughter of mine? He pondered. "What is your name? If you are my daughter, I must know your name." "My name is Andrea Talon Snape."
