It was the end-of-year feast and spirits at Hogwarts were particularly low. Not surprising considering the fact that Voldemort, or at least his younger self Tom Riddle, had gained a body and was out in the world once more. The basilisk he had set loose on the school had fortunately not killed anyone except that worthless fop Gilderoy Lockhart; Dumbledore had managed to seal the serpent in the Chamber of Secrets just as Harry Potter escaped with the unconscious body of Virginia Weasley.
Professor Snape, sitting at the teachers' table and for once not enjoying the students' subdued behaviour, let his gaze wander to the young red-headed Gryffindor. She sat pale between her brother and Harry Potter. There were dark circles under her eyes and Severus could see her right hand drift to her left arm, rubbing at the Dark Mark concealed beneath the sleeves of her robes. He had to stop himself from rubbing the same mark on his arm in sympathy.
It was wrong that such a young, innocent girl be so hideously branded; it was wrong that after nearly eleven years of peace the Dark Lord had returned once again. Not yet in full, but Severus didn't doubt that that was just a matter of time.
Harry Potter looked as depressed as they all did, and for a moment Severus nearly felt pity for the wretched boy, the son of James Potter. It had been a narrow escape, the two children were lucky to be alive. Yet Severus was not the only one to notice that there seemed to be an undercurrent of blame running through the students. As if they had expected a 12 year-old boy to defeat the Dark Lord once more. Severus sneered in disgust, not wanting to admit to himself that deep down he had expected the same.
Even his Slytherins were silent and keeping a low profile. They, more than any others, were once again viewed with distrust now Lord Voldemort had risen again. Uncertain of their place in the world, of what would happen; would they be required to follow in the footsteps of many of their parents? What would Voldemort do to those former Death Eaters who had done nothing to help the Dark Lord, and instead gone on with their lives as best as they could after his fall that fateful October night years ago?
Severus unconsciously rubbed at his arm, the mark was not burning but it had reappeared again. What was to become of him? He knew he would return to Voldemort should he be summoned, return to play the role of traitor and spy for Dumbledore. Severus had little hope of survival, but it was his path.
The Headmaster finished his speech and food appeared on the table. Severus poked at it, moved it around his plate and avoided the eyes of those around him; he knew he was not the only one lacking in appetite.
Desert was served and somehow spirits had managed to lighten over dinner. Albus was chatting merrily with Minerva and Sinistra; Hagrid's booming voice sounded as he laughed at a particularly lewd joke by Iris. The students were talking a little more freely now, making promises to write over the summer holidays. Severus looked down at the chocolate pudding and fresh strawberries, his favourite, and scowled a little less fiercely.
Then suddenly a burning agony in his forearm; he gripped the mark and bit his tongue to stop himself from crying out. Vaguely he was aware of sounds of alarm coming from the Gryffindor table; he opened tear filled eyes to see Harry Potter bent over and clawing at his forehead while he clutched his left arm; the Weasley girl cried and pawed at the mark on her arm. The pain ended as abruptly as it had began, and Severus lifted the edge of his sleeve to chance a look at the inflamed mark, at the same time making sure no others had seen that he had been similarly affected as the two young Gryffindors.
Dumbledore clapped his hands to gain everybody's attention and to curb the panic that was rising.
"I think it is time for you all to return to your dorms and start packing. After all, it has been a trying year and you need the rest before enjoying your holidays. You will be escorted by your Head of House to the train tomorrow morning, don't be late!"
The twinkle in the old man's eyes became less as he looked at the Gryffindor table.
"Before going to your dorm, could Mr Potter and Miss Weasley accompany me to my office?" With that Dumbledore stood and indicated for the two students to follow him out of the hall. He caught Severus' eye, and Severus gave a slight nod that he would join them in a moment.
After making sure all his Slytherins were safely in their dorms Severus made his way through the school corridors, up to the Gargoyle statue and stairs to Albus' quarters. A murmured 'Chocolate Frog' and he was ascending the winding stair case, in vain trying not to rub the now dark black skull branded into his left arm.
When he entered Albus' office Potter and the Weasley girl were eating sweets and Albus had his grandfatherly smile working overtime.
"It's all going to be all right, children. There are protections up at your relatives' house, Harry, and at the Burrow too, Ginny, you'll be safe there over the summer. And if anything happens, if the mark or your scar burns, you know what to do?"
They nodded. "Write to you."
"Good. Minerva will accompany the both of you back to Gryffindor tower," only now did Severus notice the strict looking woman standing in a corner, "and you can pack and get some sleep. Another lemon drop?"
They both took more of the proffered candy and let themselves be led past him by Minerva. She inclined her head to him briefly, he nodded, and as they left Potter briefly caught his eyes. There was something in that gaze, something that made Severus' skin crawl more than the wretched boy's presence normally did, but then the three were gone and he dismissed it as he took the chair opposite the Headmaster. The smile on Albus' face was gone and he was looking like he'd earned every year.
"So Voldemort has returned? It's not just a teenage Tom Riddle we have to deal with."
Severus nodded and pushed up his sleeve to show the mark.
"It is as it was before he was killed." Severus couldn't stand the brief look of revulsion that flitted over Albus' face and he hastily pushed his robe back down. The Headmaster had never really seen the mark on Severus' arm in its full glory; the last time it had been concealed by a glamour cast by Voldemort himself, part of the task he had sent Severus to Dumbledore for. Severus closed his eyes briefly and pushed those memories away.
"Was it a summons?"
He looked up confused for a moment, before shaking his head no.
"It didn't feel like it, more like the connection being renewed." A bitter sneer formed on Severus' lips. "Although I don't doubt that the summons will follow soon. His Lordship will no doubt want to take his loyal servants to task for the past eleven years of inaction."
"You know what I must ask of you…"
"I know. I will let you know when he summons me, before I leave."
"Do you think he knows of your true loyalty? Quirrell - "
"I don't know. I never told Quentin – We never spoke of– He may." Severus ended helplessly, then steeled himself and met Albus' eyes with determination. "We will just have to hope for the best.
Now, if you will excuse me, Albus, there are a few things I need to tend to. I will see you in the morning." With that he stood up and made his way to the door, wanting to escape this familiar scene, this situation he had thought, he had hoped, he had naively believed gone forever.
"Severus."
He stopped and felt Albus stand behind him, felt the hand on his arm turning him around, lifting his chin to look into those bright blue eyes.
"Be careful, my child," the Headmaster said as he gently stroked Severus' cheek. Despite himself Severus leaned into the touch – it had been so long – then resolutely moved away from the other man.
"I will see you at breakfast, Headmaster."
*~*
The summons came in the late afternoon the next day. Severus had locked himself in his lab and started preparing the Wolfsbane potion for Lupin. In his wisdom Albus had decided to hire the werewolf as the next DADA teacher; with Black loose once again, he had said, it would be good to have somebody here who knew the man and his methods. Severus thought that a good reason to not let the werewolf any where near the students, he trusted Lupin not much more than he did Black, but he also knew that protesting would be fruitless. When it concerned his Gryffindor golden boys Albus never listened to Severus, never had and never would.
Severus sneered again and set about making a start with the complicated potion. It would take time and concentration to make, and if he were to be honest he was glad for the distraction.
Black had escaped Azkaban shortly after news of the resurrection of a young Voldemort had become public knowledge; how, was still a mystery. The Ministry was searching for him, was even using its ties in the Muggle world. At the same time they were using Dementors to sniff the bastard out; they hated it when one of their prey got away. As the skull and snake on his arm burned and Severus hissed in pain, he fully expected to see the mongrel at Voldemort's side.
He spelled the fire out, sent an owl to Albus that he was leaving, checked his rooms one last time (would it be the last time?), and hurried through the school, over the grounds to where the anti-apparition wards ended. Once in the forest he checked for onlookers, pulled the black cape over his robes, and pressed the tip of his wand against the burning mark on his arm.
"Apparate Lord Voldemort Morsmordre," he said, and then he was stumbling on uneven ground in the afternoon sun. Quickly Severus got his bearing; he was standing on a hill, in a graveyard it seemed. Nearby the earth of one of the graves was upturned, the name Tom Riddle and the dates 1901-1944 it were carved in the headstone. To the side there was a large house, from the outside it looked run-down and derelict, but Severus suspected that was just a front. Riddle Mansion. He saw another black caped figure disappear inside through the main doors and he quickly hurried toward the house as he put the white Death Eater mask over his face; there were no others behind him, it appeared he would be the last to arrive.
When he entered the house the door closed behind him and he could hear it locking itself, could feel the wards going up that would prevent anyone from leaving before their creator allowed. In the large entrance hall he could see the others gathered in a circle around Him, one of the black hooded figures was just crawling back to his place in the ring around Lord Voldemort having just paid his respect. Severus swallowed, glad the mask hid his expression of fear and revulsion, and without looking at Voldemort directly he dropped to his knees, crawled forward and pressed a kiss to the hem of the Dark Lord's robe.
"Master," he whispered, daring a glance up into a face more youthful than he had ever seen it. But he'd always recognize those burning red eyes. They bored into him, and he quickly backed away, got up, and took his place among his fellow Death Eaters.
"Eleven years," Voldemort began and his red eyes flashed over them all, anger contorting his handsome features. "Eleven years since I was cast from my body. Eleven years have I worked to return, and where were you all? What part did you play in my resurrection?"
The Dark Lord's voice was a menacing hiss and the fear from the gathered wizards and witches was palpable.
"Master," one of the wizards suddenly cried and he threw himself at Voldemort's feet. "Forgive me, forgive us, Master!"
Voldemort sneered in disgust as he pulled the edge of his robes from the snivelling man and pointed his wand at the Death Eater.
"Crucio." The wizard screamed and thrashed in pain until Voldemort ended the spell, still keeping his wand at the ready.
"Disappointed, I am deeply disappointed in you all. I do not forgive, and I do not forget, Avery. You all owe me eleven years of your lives, and only a two of you have started to repay that debt."
He gracefully walked toward one of them as Avery shakily stood up and returned to his place in the circle.
"Remove your mask, Lucius. All of you! Show me the faces of my most loyal servants."
Severus schooled his face and removed the white mask, tucking it in his robes. Besides Lucius he recognized many of them, and he committed names and faces to memory.
"Slippery Lucius, you claimed Imperius and slipped through the Ministry's fingers. You work there now. And you have started to repay me those eleven years. A little late, one might say. But better late than never, is it not so?"
Voldemort reached out and took Lucius' left arm, held it up for all to see the proud blonde wizard's left hand. A hand missing a finger. Lucius' face was an impassive mask and if he was afraid, or in pain, he did not show it.
"Lucius came when I called, brought me to Hogwarts where my sixteen year-old self was able to gain this body. But I was not complete, I was not whole. Lucius' sacrifice helped remedy that."
He dropped the blonde's arm and moved on to the next Death Eater.
"Ah, MacNair. My ever faithful axe, my ever faithful executioner. You now exterminate dark creatures for the ministry. I will soon have more a fitting task for you once more."
Voldemort continued around the circle in this fashion, skipping some, applying Cruciatus to others, saying a few words or berating the Death Eater in front of them all. He paused momentarily at the space where two people should have stood.
"The Lestranges. They alone remained faithful. Now they rot in Azkaban. They will be freed and rewarded, of course."
Then Voldemort stood before him and Severus was very much aware of the empty spaces at both his sides. Voldemort looked at the empty space to Severus' left where four people could have stood.
"Four of my loyal followers, they died for their loyalty, died in my name. You will honour their memory."
He looked to Severus' right where two others should have been.
"One of my faithful who has fled; he can run but he cannot hide. Igor will suffer for his cowardice, be sure of that.
"And my most loyal servant, more faithful than any of you. He alone sought me out, he alone has served me well all these years. His reward shall be great indeed, for he works even now, right under that old fool Dumbledore's nose, closer to his precious children, his precious Harry Potter, than any of you could imagine."
Severus kept an impassive face, trying not to show his surprise; Voldemort could only be speaking of Black, did that mean he was on Hogwarts ground? And how could he have been helping Voldemort while he was in Azkaban? He had only escaped a few weeks ago.
Voldemort fixed his red eyes on Severus and there was no room for any other thoughts.
"Severus, you return to me, I must admit to some… surprise." He reached out a hand and pushed one of the greasy strands of hair out of Severus' face. Unsuccessfully Severus tried not to flinch away from that touch, a twisted sense of déjà vu running through him.
"They say you betrayed me, that you spied for Dumbledore, and that you are a traitor." The hand gripped Severus' hair painfully and pulled him down face to face, a menacing scowl on Lord Voldemort's lips. Eleven years ago Voldemort had been taller than Severus, but his sixteen year old body was still a few inches short of Severus' height.
"Tell me, Snape, who are you faithful to? Who do you serve?"
"You, my Lord, only you, Master," Severus gasped, trying to hold back the fear churning inside him. There was nothing else he could say, nothing more he could do to make Voldemort believe his lie.
With a disgusted look the Dark Lord released his grip on Severus' hair and pushed him away; Severus stumbled and then froze when Voldemort pointed his wand at him.
"You shall serve me, my treacherous serpent, but first you shall suffer. Crucio."
Molten fire on all his nerve endings, Severus tried not to scream but could not hold the cry in long. Tears tracked down his face, his teeth clenched and he clawed at the floor beneath him, breaking his nails. He had no idea how long Voldemort kept the curse on him, but when he lifted it all Severus could do was lie there and listen to the rush of blood in his ears. There was a metallic taste in his mouth and his muscles were experiencing a sensation much like pins and needles, only a tenfold worse. He fought to control the random spasms still wracking his body.
Vaguely, he was aware of the others being dismissed; he heard the murmurs of a quiet conversation between Voldemort and Malfoy before the blonde wizard was also dismissed. Footsteps neared him, a foot beneath him, flipping him over, and Severus stared up into the amused face of Tom Marvolo Riddle.
The last time Severus had seen Voldemort had been just before the Potters' death, nearly eleven years ago now. The Dark Lord had been just over fifty then, his dark hair specked with grey, and his body more filled out than it was now. This youthful Voldemort had jet black wavy hair, the same handsome, arrogant face but without the faint lines that had begun to appear. He was less tall, still not full-grown, and while his eyes were still crimson red Severus could now see that they were flecked with green.
"Do you need a hand, Severus?" Voldemort asked and offered his.
Not taking time to hesitate Severus took it and let himself be pulled to his feet: when the Dark Lord offered you something you accepted.
"Come, follow me. There is somebody I would like you to meet." With that he turned on his heels and made his way up the stairs, his robes billowing around him in that fashion that Severus had emulated when he was a young man. Severus followed, uncertain by this sudden change of mood. He had to tread lightly, who knew what eleven years as a disembodied spirit had done to Voldemort's already tenuous grasp on sanity?
They walked through the corridor toward what Severus recognized was the library. Voldemort passed his wand over the door once, lifting a spell Severus didn't recognize. He opened the door and indicated Severus to follow him.
Inside it was just as Severus remembered it: a fire burned in the fire-place, the walls were covered by bookcases filled with the darkest texts on any magic or potion imaginable; the long conference table, the chairs around it and in a corner two large comfortable chairs with a small table between them. Voldemort's familiar, Nagini, slithered out of one of the chairs toward Voldemort, hissing her welcome which Voldemort returned in parseltongue. As Severus took in his surroundings he wondered who it was the Dark Lord wanted him to meet.
Then a third voice joined the other two, hissing in that snake-language, and a slight figure left the other arm chair and joined Voldemort, glancing at Severus with barely hidden curiosity.
It was as if he'd taken a bludger to the stomach. All the blood left Severus' face and he actually swayed. Harry Potter. Voldemort had captured Harry Potter. His gut clenched and he looked at the Dark Lord in disbelief. How could that have happened? Only this morning he'd seen the brat safely onto the Hogwarts Express, he should still be on it!
Voldemort smirked and ran his hands affectionately through the boy's hair, all the while continuing the hissing conversation the three were having.
"My Lord?" Severus croaked. Voldemort grinned malevolently before schooling his features into something more resembling a smile as he looked down at the dark haired boy under his arm.
"Severus, I would like to introduce you to the real Harry Potter. Harry, this is Severus Snape, the Potions Master I promised you."
The boy's eyes lit up. "Severus Snape? The Severus Snape? I've read Dark Potions and Hexes, Bezoar-Resistant Poisons, everything you've written! Oh wow, this is great! Thank you, Tom, thank you!"
Severus was in shock. He knew this, and could only stare at the boy who could not be Harry Potter, could not be the obnoxious boy he had taught for two years now. Something was very wrong here, and Severus struggled to get a grip of what it may be. The real Harry Potter, Voldemort had said.
Voldemort looked down at Potter with an amused smirk on his face, glanced briefly at Severus, and caressed the boy's cheek.
"I think Severus is a little upset, Harry. Maybe we should have him teach you how to brew a calming potion; he certainly looks like he needs one." He took the boy's hand and led him out of the library, resting his other hand on Severus' shoulder and pulling him along as well. Nagini followed them.
"How did your meeting go, Tom?" the boy asked, and Voldemort hissed something in reply, and soon they were talking in parseltongue – the boy spoke parseltongue! – again. They made their way down the stairs, then to the dungeons where the potions laboratory was situated. Once there Tom pushed the both of them toward one of the benches with the order to make a calming potion as he sat back on one of the chairs and Nagini coiled herself around him.
Grateful for something familiar to do Severus set the boy to work; he didn't need to think, it was a simple potion he taught his second years every year. But when he noticed the trembling in his hands as he tried to chop the marigolds he instructed the boy to do that as well and just supervised.
How could this be? Harry Potter was on the Hogwarts Express, he himself had made sure of that. This could not be Harry Potter. Now that he'd had a moment he could see the differences. This boy was paler, as if he hadn't seen the sun in years. There was no arrogance, no insolence. His bright green eyes shone with excitement as he cut and diced and crushed the ingredients, added them to the potion with a skill the Potter Severus knew from Hogwarts certainly didn't have. It was clear the boy had no practice in doing it, but the talent was undeniably there. And yet… And yet, the boy had the trademark lightning bolt scar. Who was this boy?
The real Harry Potter Voldemort had said. Did that mean the Harry Potter at Hogwarts was an impostor? For how long?
As his thoughts churned and chased each other fruitlessly he interrogated the boy as he was wont to do in class, and to his surprise the boy answered him with care and correctly. And when the potion was finished – how had time passed so quickly, it was an easy potion but took at least an hour to brew! – and he inspected the result, try as he might he could find no fault with it; he could not have done better himself.
"Adequate," he admitted sourly, his thoughts far off and his actions on auto-pilot. The boy literally beamed with pride and suddenly Voldemort was standing next to Potter, running his hand through that unruly black hair as he looked down at the boy with an affectionate look on his face, his eyes more green than red.
"Well done, Harry." He looked up at
Severus. "But now I think it is time for you to go to bed."
"But Tom – "
"No buts, Harry. It's been a long day, and Severus and I need to talk, privately. Go to bed, take Nagini with you. I promise you Severus will return tomorrow and you can brew potions all day long, won't you, Severus?"
"Anything, my Lord."
"All right." Harry agreed.
"That's my Harry." The Dark Lord leaned down and affectionately brushed his lips over the boy's scar. "Good night."
"Goodnight, Tom," the boy pecked a kiss on Voldemort's cheek before turning to Severus. "Goodnight, Potions Master Snape. Thank you for teaching me."
At Voldemort's nod Severus somehow managed to wish the boy goodnight as well; he watched the boy vanish up the stairs, deep in a hissing conversation with Nagini. Then Voldemort was standing beside him, pressing a cup of the calming potion into his hands. Severus gulped it down without a second thought and gratefully closed his eyes as the maelstrom in his mind came to a temporary rest.
With a deep breath he opened his eyes again and looked at Voldemort who was leaning against one of the benches and smirking at him.
"Who is he?"
"As I said before, the real Harry Potter."
Severus was smart enough not to blurt out that that was impossible, and his grip on the cup tightened.
"Then who is the Harry Potter at Hogwarts?"
"Why, an impostor, of course."
"For how long?"
The smirk on Voldemort's face turned into an unabashed grin. "Since ten minutes before that bumbling oaf Hagrid took him from his Muggle relatives nearly two years ago."
It couldn't be, but from the look on Voldemort's face Severus knew it was.
"Who?"
"That is something you do not need to concern yourself with, Severus." Voldemort turned around and started pouring the calming potion into a number of vials.
"My future self, Lord Voldemort, had originally planned to return with use of the Philosopher's stone. If it hadn't been for that traitor Quirrell, I would have succeeded."
Severus' eyes widened; Quentin hadn't been defeated by the impostor Potter?
"He abducted Harry Potter and imprisoned him here, in Riddle Mansion. Then he travelled to Hogwarts and with the help of my loyal servant I worked to obtain the stone." Voldemort looked over his shoulder at Severus and narrowed his eyes. "I remember that you weren't very… helpful, Severus."
Severus paled but Voldemort turned back to the vials and sealed them with a wave of his wand, cleaning the cauldron with another flick of his wrist.
"And victory was within my grasp. But just when victory, restoration, was within my grasp Quirrell sacrificed himself, cast Incendius on us both and I was once again without a body, banished to the Dark Forest where I was safe from Dumbledore and awaited another chance to return."
"But – We thought – His mother's sacrifice: it protected him."
Voldemort laughed as he carried the vials to one of the cupboards to put the calming draughts away.
"Only the touch of the real Harry Potter could have once harmed me. The potion that restored my spirit to my body broke through the protective charm his mother's sacrifice left him, connected us even more than that fateful Avada did eleven years ago."
Voldemort leaned back against the wall, one flask of calming draught dangling from his fingers, and he regarded Severus as he continued.
"Meanwhile Harry found my journal and struck up a friendship with sixteen year-old Tom Riddle. I realised that my future self wanted him here, although I did not know why, nor Lord Voldemort's situation, and so I kept him distracted. I taught him magic, I encouraged his thirst for knowledge and we spent long hours in the library together. And when he slept, with my journal under his head, he fed me with his strength so that I might become more aware of the world around me.
"When Quirrell betrayed me and I was once again temporarily without a body, I resolved to take matters into my own hands and I appeared to Lucius Malfoy in a dream; I summoned him here, commanded him to take my diary and give it to an appropriate student at Hogwarts. Virginia turned out to be a true… delight. Such a strong willed little girl.
"I must admit I am glad that she did not need to die; I can use a witch like that. Harry had already strengthened me enough that it only took a few months in sweet Ginny's hands to gain substance, to gain form once more.
"Lucius took me from Hogwarts, and together we travelled to the Black Forest and sought out my future self's spirit. He possessed me; we were complete but not whole. Bone of the father, flesh of the servant, and blood of the… enemy cured me. Only I suppose in this case, it was also blood of the friend. Harry willingly assisted me last night; he gave me of his blood, as he had shared his life-force with me.
"And now I am restored, I have my body, I have my power. Lord Voldemort will rule!"
Voldemort prowled to him, and Severus couldn't help backing away, backing away until he stumbled over a chair and was caught against one of the many work benches. There was an unholy look on Voldemort's face, in his eyes, it could mean nothing good.
"And that is where you come in, my dear Severus. You see, Harry has developed a love for potions, and he has been very patient, very loyal: a true friend. And I reward my friends. So you will teach him all you know. Harry will have his own personal Potions Master; Lord Voldemort keeps his word."
Severus nervously tried to swallow; his mouth had gone dry. Voldemort's face was close to his and he could feel the Dark Lord's breath against his skin as he continued to whisper in Severus' ear.
"Only four people know that Harry is here: myself, Harry, my loyal servant, and you. The only one I do not know whether I can trust to keep this secret is you. If this comes out I shall know who has betrayed my trust. Choose your loyalty carefully, Severus. I will not be as lenient next time."
The flask of calming potion was pressed into his unresisting hands.
"Here, you look like you could do with another dose. Go back to Hogwarts, get some sleep. I will summon you for Harry's first lesson tomorrow."
Feeling numb Severus started walking to the stairs, painfully aware of those red eyes watching him, burning into his back.
"Oh, and Severus?"
He gripped the bottle tightly, turned around and fought to keep a neutral face.
"Yes, my Lord?"
"I do not know why you have let yourself go so: Quentin might not have cared about the appearance of his lover, but I certainly do." Voldemort's lips contorted into a disgusted sneer as his eyes travelled over the lank and greasy hair, the stained hands, sallow skin, and yellow teeth. "Clean yourself up before you return."
"As you wish, Master," Severus only just managed to get out in a hoarse rasp, and then he was walking up the dungeon stairs, out through the doors, up the hill to the graveyard, past the wards. With trembling hands he downed the calming draught before pointing his wand at himself.
"Apparate Forbidden Forest."