"The power of a pureblood is undeniably acute. Their power has been fine-tuned, improved over the years of their ancestry. The blood, is thicker, stronger." The thin overwrought fingers brushed across a head of dirty red. The man winced as his hair was torn from his scalp roughly but remained silent.
"It is a pity, really, that some purebloods, continue to associate with lessers. Let this be a warning to you all." He bellowed as he spread his cloak in an intimidating wingspan. "Just because you are pureblood, does not mean there are not standards."
The echo of the body as it hit the ground was sharper than any body Severus Snape had ever heard. The boy's face crunched loudly as it hit the concrete and the hooded figure pushed the boy's lifeless carcass with a pointed toe. There was little applause and little denial. The truth was, this could have been any of them in the room – whether warranted or not.
The potion master remained still, taking in the final appearance of the boy to report later. This had been the youngest murder Voldemort had showcased since his return and it seemed his vitality had not dwindled in his wait. As the Dark Lord continued his rant, he tried to think of any way the Weasley boy could have been caught. Though he no longer played an active part in the Order anymore after Dumbledore's death, he imagined Potter's friends would be just as well protected as Potter himself, either on the boy's demand or from association. There would be no hope in obtaining the body for burial.
"What could be worse than this?" the tyrant hissed as he set the body on fire. The curse burned through the flesh like acid, charring whatever remained in to dull ash. "What could be worse than a traitor?" Voldemort peered around the room at his quiet entourage.
The intensity to which Severus held his gaze to the cobbled floor made his eyes water. The silence was only a provocation for an answer.
"Bring it in." he stated.
McNair and Crabbe left the room. To his distaste the Death Eater numbers were growing again, just like last time. Usually, the new ones, the unmarked ones, were left out of important meetings such as this one. Their loyalty hadn't been proven yet. But behind him stood a number of new faces, peering over his shoulder to get a better look at what was planned this evening. The Dark Lord was making an example tonight – to all of his followers.
He had been on a steady haul up since Dumbledore's death, really the only obstacle he felt was in his way all this time. His murders were more theatrical, his punishments more severe than his first reign. Severus could smell burning flesh and it was all he could do to hold the acidic bile rising through his throat.
McNair and Goyle reappeared at the hall entrance, both their arms dragging a hooded and cloaked figure. It was a human, there was no doubt about its form, a small human. Severus knew before the cloak was even retrieved that it was another one of his students. He obviously could not foretell which one, but he felt it a certainty.
Voldemort levitated the limp body in to the air with an elegant flick of his wand.
"What could be worse than a traitor?" he repeated, looking around with a manic grin. Bella tittered by Severus' shoulder, bursting with the answer, but drowned by fear. This was a show, much grander than anything Severus had seen as of yet, prolonged and breathtakingly suspenseful. Those hooded eyes finally looked to one, his revered servant, Severus Snape.
"As many of you know, one of your brothers has done us a great service this past year." He gestured towards the shadowy man. "He is returning as headmaster to Hogwarts. To make sure that your children learn the proper art of magic." That grin remained as such on his face as he stood in front of Severus now. "Severus?"
"My Lord?"
"You have been very useful to me since my return. I had my doubts about your loyalty but you have proven most devoted." He turned back to the crowd slowly circling around the figure in interest. "As you all know, there will be no muggles allowed in the school any longer." Bella tittered again, "except for one." He gestured towards the body floating at eye level with him. "I will reward my servant and make an example of the proper place mudbloods will hold when our society has been reinstated to its proper glory. "
Any number of children could be under the cloak, he thought, each as worse as the last. And he knew already, the only thing he could do is joyously accept whatever it was this dark lord was offering him.
"Your prize Severus." He was gestured to take off the cloak from the body.
The girl looked quite intact. From the display earlier, it was not his expectation to find her unharmed. Her wrist however limp, displayed a deep red tattoo, contrasting sharply with the paleness of her skin. It was a small jeweled crown, detailed in ornamental gems that erupted out of the girl's skin. It was a crown he had seen numerous times over his life, a sigil he had never found any association with, yet symbolized an important part of his life.
The Dark Lord gazed at his servant, waiting for his gratitude.
"My Lord – " he began, trying once again to remain calm as the panic started to bubble in his stomach.
"I am rewarding you for your incalculable services Severus. Unharmed and untouched."
The crowd took great reaction to this statement, pushing forward to encircle the girl as she levitated softly in the air. Voledmort was being almost kind to her, cradling her in his magic as if to appease some discontent she might have had. But she was not untouched, his promises already broken as he spoke them. As Severus stepped forward to get a better look at his prize, the unconscious body of Hermione Granger floated over the ashes of Ronald Weasley, her wrist adorned with the crest of the House of Prince.
"The girl is your servant now Severus, she will do whatever you command." Voldemort took his time with everything of his own devising. He wished to revel in his accomplishments and took the time to explain what he had just achieved. "Old magic, true magic. She has been tied to the house of Prince, as a servant of her master. She cannot deny him, she will actively seek out to please him – just as she should."
With the recently rushed progression of successes, the New Age seemed indefinitely here. Old Magic such as this, which had been banned by the Ministry for nearly two centuries, would come once again to light. The girl, though he knew not just how yet, had been cursed, sealed to her fate by his old family crest. She was obligated now to any living descendants of the Prince House, himself included. It was a demeaning magic, an oppressive operation that had not even been popular in the darker ages.
"She responds to words spoken and unspoken, the truest of desires never put in to real words. She will do your bidding Severus, and this is what shall be rewarded to all those who follow me." The crowd around him whispered excitedly. The tangible promise was easily believed, and the Lord relished in his followers' trust.
Hermione Granger's body paused in its levitation and landed slowly in to the professor's arms. She was light, never to be a burden to him in any way. She would be self-reliant, but feed off of his demands. She would be bound to his house and his name and carry any load he required of her.
"Enjoy this Severus, you have earned your Master's gratitude."
He thanked his benefactor, bowing unencumbered by his prize. If anything, he was grateful he could take the child back mostly unharmed. He imagined things wouldn't be so forgiving in the future as students were caught or taken in to custody by the now fallen Ministry. Voldemort kicked at the ashes of Ronald Weasley and they rose in to the air, some landing on Severus' boots.
"Take her!" he yelled. "Take her!"
They left pandemonium, apparated in to his private quarters and his knees became weak at the joints. Fire was crackling just as he left it, in his fireplace and his dinner, completely missed, had been served to him by his office desk. It was silent.
He put the girl carefully on his settee, trying to remain calm. There had been so many different times over the past seventeen years – how many people he knew died, and he had to watch, but this. This was different. He'd never come back with a bounty before, never came back with anything.
The faint ache of his mark seemed over exaggerated. The separation of master and servant dulled at the edges of his forearm.
"Fuck."
"Viscemo" he muttered with a flick of his hand. The enchanted sleep she was in would end soon, and he was no closer to accepting what had happened let alone figuring out a plan.
Brass root, quartz, quartz and….
But what of it?
He realized even if he did find a counter curse, Voldemort would know and he'd kill them both for ingratitude.
The half-moon spluttered through the bars of the one small window he had in his study. His inaction tore through him as he paced the room. Dumbledore would have known the counter curse, for all his demands and his frequent intimations, he knew what to do, especially in the face of the unexpected. And now, he was in command without any help from the Order.
He called for his owl and jotted a quick note to Arthur and Molly Weasley. No doubt the Ministry would update them about their son's demise – under fabricated details – and they deserved to know the truth. His mind fell back to his previous ponderings over the capture of the two in the first place. Where was Potter now? How much had Dumbledore told the boy?
It had been both Dumbledore's misgiving and Voldemort's volition that he take over the school. His admission to knowing very little of the business, of children, of anything about the job, hadn't deterred either from their decision. And now….
His owl perched through the metal bars and turned with a confirming squack.
"Go." He whispered softly.
Severus perched himself on the edge of the settee and looked down at the young girl. Tartan blanket tossed over her, he realized there was nothing he could do but make this as easy as he could for her. There were restorative draughts he could give her, elixers to numb the mind, dreamless sleep potions. He would attempt to be as undemanding as he could but there were limits to this curse he knew not of and his trepidation rushed forward. There was little comfort he could give her in reality. There was very little he could give.
McGonagall was not as convinced of the current situation as he had become. He had worked himself in to a fervent belief, that all would be well and he was just in believing so. The girl was unharmed as far as he could tell. But as the older woman stared down at her student, dressed hastily in to her night robe, that fervency depleted into cold water.
"This war is different Severus." She muttered as she took the girl's newly inked wrist and examined it from different angles. "He would have never done something like this before."
"It was only a matter of time." He stated.
"A counter curse?" the woman turned back to her colleague with hopeful eyes.
"Death."
He hadn't told her about Ronald Weasley. Something inside himself refused to bring it up. The woman seemed so rattled by the girl's condition, it seemed contrary to his efforts to bring up the boy as well. Clearly Potter's life was in insurmountable danger if he could be so easily reached by the Dark Lord's efforts. But there was little he could do now. His main focus was to run the school. He'd already revealed the transfer of the boy to the Burrow a month past, and that had cost the lives of some of his colleagues. But now, more than ever, Voldemort had to believe in him, without Dumbledore's help.
"We can't- but – what shall we – " the brogue cut through the silence. "What does it mean?"
"It means she must do my bidding." He stated acidly rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. "It means, whether we like it or not, she is no longer a free agent."
It was a fate, truly worse than death. Her free will had been taken from her the moment Voldemort had cursed her. Her wants were now solely the wants of her Professor. Her mind would tell her differently, but her body would bow to his commands, commands he like any other would make.
He allowed his colleague to remain in his study for hours, pouring over the situation. The deputy headmistress wanted to inform the Order, to alert Harry Potter somehow but she did not know where he was and besides, Severus suggested the news would only deter him.
"If we were to allow these events to unfold, the girl would be safe."
"Safe!" Minerva muttered as she leaned back in to the wing back chair. "She's not very safe right now!"
He pursed his lips, wondering if that was a personal attack or merely a summation of her blatant susceptibility. In any fact, she did not retract her statement.
"I'll have you know Minerva, I'm well and capable-"
"Oh Severus Snape! All fine for you, a servant girl now at your beck and call."
"I beg your pardon Madam but –"
"Don't you "madam" me, we need to-"
"I don't see any answers from you-"
"And your big nose-"
"Professor?"
Hermione Granger did her best to sit up from the couch but found herself dramatically weakened. Instead she lay back down and turned to her two professors. Her throat was as dry as sand paper, but there was this burning inside of her head she did her best to ignore.
"What happened?"