Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling does. I only own Eris and any other characters I make up as I go ;P
Story Notes: This story was Co-Authored by Telepiel - you rock, Telepiel! ;) If either of us has missed something, please let us know! But be nice about it, too…I'd be nice to your story and I only think it's common courtesy. And as always, I appreciate any constructive criticisms you can come up with, as well as any story ideas you may have, so feel free to email me any suggestions! Oh, and it may be a while between updates, but that is only because I want to get this just right!
More Notes: This is another plot bunny that came from the scene I posted called "the Beginning", and, since the other one didn't get any reviews, I thought I'd post it ;P I had to rewrite this chapter when Telepiel and I decided to change the time it occured, so please let me know if I missed anything!
Summary: An Unspeakable joins Voldemort's ranks and, consequently, becomes involved with The Order of the Phoenix. An old friend returns to the Order, and Voldemort's weapon is finally revealed. There's a bit of everything in this story - yes some SSOC stuff as well!
Severus Snape reached the boundary of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, and, pulling his silver mask over his face, apparated to where the Dark Lord called him.
CRACK!
He examined his surroundings through the small eye holes in his mask, and found that he had appeared in a large field with a few scattered trees. Glancing up, he saw the moon was partially obscured by clouds, and the stars shone particularly bright, meaning they were quite far from any large communities or cities. Not that he had expected anything else.
It was a warm August night, and he was beginning to sweat under his cloak and robes. The notion that perhaps this was the night the Dark Lord had discovered his allegiance to Dumbledore appeared in his mind as it always did. And, as always, he mentally slapped himself for allowing such thoughts, and pushed them from his mind - they would do no good to him anyway.
With a small swish of his robes, he moved cautiously amongst his fellow Death Eaters as they gathered in front the Dark Lord, and waited for him to speak.
"My loyal followers," the high voice of the Dark Lord began slowly, "we have here with us tonight a new initiate."
The Dark Lord paused to grin maliciously, and Snape suppressed a shudder. He wondered who in their right mind would join the Death Eaters, especially after what had happened over fifteen years ago. True, he had been insane enough to join, but he had been merely a child then. Perhaps the Dark Lord had found another easily corrupted fledgling to manipulate into another twisted purveyor of his pureblood fanaticism.
The Dark Lord snapped his thin fingers, and a masked and hooded figure stepped out of the crowd, while Wormtail emerged from behind his master dragging the limp and barely conscious form of a man. Judging by the man's attire, he was a muggle, and a penniless one at that. His clothes were torn and tattered, his shoes full of holes, and his face covered with an untidy beard. After the Dark Lord muttered a spell, the man sprung to life, and seemed terrified out of his mind when he realized where he was and what was going on.
With tears in his eyes, the man turned to Voldemort and began begging for his life, mumbling things about how his life had just taken a turn for the better - he'd had the prospect of a new job and a flat in London.
But the pleas fell upon deaf ears.
Again the Dark Lord smiled evilly as he stepped aside to allow this new follower to perform a few curses on the man.
With slender hands that could only belong to a woman, the hooded figure pulled out her wand and pointed it casually at the still pleading man. First she used the Imperius Curse to make the man perform a few humiliating, and, to every Death Eater but Snape, entertaining tasks. Then she used the Cruciatus Curse, torturing the man until he no longer cried out or begged for mercy, but lay on the ground, rocking back and forth in the fetal position, and whimpering softly. And finally she used the Killing Curse.
Throughout the disgusting display, Snape feigned disinterest and sneered under his mask, while feeling a small stab of pity for the poor man. Despite that pity, he did nothing to help the man, and felt no guilt over it - helping the man would only have lead to his own death, and Dumbledore, who knows why, was counting on him.
"Very good, my dear," the cold voice of the Dark Lord drawled. He returned to his original spot and gestured for the girl to approach him. "Hold out your left arm."
The girl rolled up her sleeve and held out her arm. Fiercely the Dark Lord grabbed her wrist and held it tight as he pulled out his wand, pointing it at her left forearm. To her credit, the girl made no move or uttered no cry as the Dark Lord burned the Dark Mark into her arm. From his own personal experience, Snape knew the intense pain she was feeling, but he also knew how the Dark Lord would look upon it if she had displayed any weakness.
When the Dark Mark had been burned in the girl rejoined the crowd, standing next to Snape. He had to admit he admired the strength she had shown. A casual glance showed that she was flexing her left hand in an apparent effort to ignore the residual pain.
The meeting continued, and Snape made a note to tell Dumbledore that the Dark Lord had a willing recruit join the cause that night, though he would not be returning to the castle anytime in the next few hours - the Death Eaters would be holding a party to instate the newest of their ranks.
Later that night a woman with long brown hair appeared out front of St. Mungo's Hospital with a sharp CRACK! Her skin was damp and sweat stained, and her eyes were scrunched in concentration. She winced in pain and took a moment to steady herself on her shaky legs. A few of her ribs were cracked, that much she knew, and she was covered in bloody cuts and bruises. The list of what was wrong with her was almost certainly longer, but the main reason she was so unsteady was that she had suffered the Cruciatus Curse more than once that evening.
She straightened up as much as she could and walked inside the hospital. A healer approached upon seeing her enter and asked what had happened - apparently she looked as bad as she felt.
But before she could answer a wave of pain washed over her and she collapsed into his arms.
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