*Disclaimer: I don't own Harry and his people in the book. Yah I make a lot of sense. What I meant to say was that I don't own J.K. Rowling's creations! Yes, that's it.
AN- Reviews greatly appreciated. Didn't mean to leave it as a cliffy. Will update regularly, so please review to show me that you care.
The Talent Show
Ch.1- Reflections and Forgetfulness
It was a dark and stormy afternoon, the rain coming down in torrents, creating a more distinguishable gloom around Severus Snape. Sitting in his office chair, reflecting on his summer "holidays", he shivered involuntarily. This year his summer was hell, literally speaking. Almost every night he was called by the Dark Lord to report anything about the Order's movement.
Severus laughed bitterly in his mind. Voldemort knew he was in the Order and was using him as a spy on Dumbledore. Dumbledore knew he was working for Voldemort and that Voldemort knew that he was working for Dumbledore. The only reason the Dark Lord let him live through the Crucio session he had received for betraying him almost 15 years ago was because the main points of his working for the Order slipped through Severus' mind. Voldemort, intrigued, used this as an excuse to save his potions brewer and use him as a spy on the Light, not really understanding Severus' new found loyalty to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore knew this, as it was Dumbledore himself that almost nearly raised Severus from the dead. So now all Severus had to do was betray Dumbledore as little as he could while keeping the Dark Lord happy so to regain the Dark Lord's trust. He was generally asked to brew extremely complex potions that involved rare ingredients, precise timing and incredible meticulousness. This was rather difficult mainly due to the spontaneous mood swings that Voldemort was recently experiencing which caused him to lash out and torture you without a reason.
Yes, with great effort, Voldemort had disappeared from Britain's horizon; however he had managed to quietly sneak into the rest of the world. He was trying to recruit new Dark Followers, but with little success, so he was turning to his dirtiest tricks. And now that the holidays were quickly drawing to a close (for which Severus was unusually thankful), he would be excused from most meetings, torturing, and general gatherings during the weekdays as not to "arouse suspicion". For this news he was severely tormented by that weasel and slime ball, Wormtail.
*Ding.. *Ding..
Severus wearily looked up. He felt slightly groggy as if he had fallen asleep and yet he wasn't sure he had dozed off. His stomach lightly rumbled as he glanced at the old yet handsome grandfather clock that had pleasantly disturbed his disturbing train of thoughts. He surveyed the clock with a mixture of melancholy and gaiety. The clock was probably the first, last and only piece of anything that wasn't somehow related to the Magical world. It was a muggle clock but it was beautifully finished with many intricate designs. It was from the 1800's and it was hand made with a mahogany frame and case. The head had a medieval interpretation of the magical world with some very wild looking witches that were dancing around a large cauldron. The face was light grey, almost white, with black hands that pointed to black roman numerals that adorned the outside edge of the face. He sighed reproachfully as his stomach rumbled again.
With an unusual surge of happiness brought on by the fact that he was finally "home" and safe (until that Longbottom came back to his class!) he headed out of his office and towards the Great Hall, hoping for some leftovers from Lunch. The storm was still howling outside and an enjoyably light and refreshing draft caused the magical torches to flicker gently in the dungeon hallway. Severus' lips curved into something that could have been considered a smile, and his gait became light and carefree. It had been a long time since Severus felt he could relax, if only for a few seconds. However his smirk rapidly vanished as he stepped into the Hall.
All the school ghosts had gathered in the dining room for a general meeting. Severus' blood ran cold.
How could he have forgotten??
Turing swiftly, he strode out of the room, black cloak billowing dramatically behind him.
Nearly Headless Nick who was closest to the door of the Great Hall had witnessed this rather bizarre instance. He blinked, opened his mouth, turned towards the closest ghost to him (which happened to be Moaning Myrtle), closed his mouth, and shrugged non-chalantly. It wasn't his business anyways.
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TBC