Up From the Dust

Chapter 3:

An Unholy Conception

All in all, Severus Snape was in the hospital wing for two days after his run-in with Juliette. Around ten o'clock at night on October sixth, Snape was woken up by a sudden, intense pain in his left arm. Cursing, he tried to stand, but found that upon sitting, dizziness overtook him.

"Blast it!" he hissed to himself, quickly lying back down. Severus had been able to sit up and walk around during the day, and had started correcting papers for his class. He recognized the effects of a Dizziness Potion when he saw them, and recalled that that particular draught tasted just like… the sleeping potion Poppy had forced him to drink earlier. Being in this condition was as bad as being tied down to the bed. His arm burning, he clenched his left hand into a fist, willed the pain to pass, and thought furious thoughts about the Mediwitch.

"Poppy," he called softy. His tone was as smooth and cold as a black marble floor: the kind people tended to slip on.

"Yes, Severus?" came the reply. Poppy walked to his bedside in the dim light, her expression smug.

"You know very well what I am going to ask you about!" Severus hated being incapacitated, to the point where he had gotten out of bed with a severe concussion two days before. He tried his best to look furious and indignant, but highly doubted that he did. The potion only induced dizziness if one sat up or attempted to stand, and Severus knew so, which was the reason he had practically glued himself to the bed. Dizziness Potion could cause severe nausea and worse if the drinker tried to remain upright, and Severus had had quite enough of humiliating himself in front of Poppy.

Madam Pomfrey couldn't help herself at the sight of Severus's ramrod-straight body and furious expression. It had been a hard couple of days. She struggled to keep a straight face, but ended up chuckling softly anyway.

"Stop your idiotic tittering and give me the antidote at once! I've been summoned! This may be my one chance to redeem myself!" Severus hissed his words through clenched teeth: the pain was getting worse, and this idiot woman was sitting there laughing at his expense.

Madam Pomfrey's expression abruptly changed to something unreadable.

"Oh, Severus. Do you really think we'd let you go? Albus thought he lost you two days ago. He won't risk you again."

The old, sentimental fool! thought Severus. Trying to protect me…

But then again, Albus Dumbledore had never been one to take "no" for an answer – he was the kind of person who could convince you in a few sentences to make a promise under Veritaserum, eternal obligation to keep it and all. If Albus told Severus to remain in the castle for the rest of his life, Severus would really have no choice but to obey him.

Resignedly, but still snappishly, Severus spat his next words out.

"Can you at least give me something for the pain, then?"

- - - -

The Dark Lord stood in all his serpentine glory in the center of a circle of black-robed followers. The moon was full tonight and the bonfire next to which Voldemort stood cast eerie shadows upon the ground and the surrounding gravestones. Although Malfoy Manor and a series of commandeered Muggle houses had been the usual places for his small meetings throughout the summer, Voldemort had a strange liking for cemeteries, and held his more important meetings amidst the dead.

This particular cemetery was the same place in which he had regained his strength two years ago.

"My Death Eaters," he began, his cold voice causing a shudder to pass through his "audience." "Tonight marks the beginning of a new era, a time for the forces of the Dark to arise from the dust and for us to take our place as rulers of this world!"

A murmur went through the circle.

Voldemort continued from his place beside the fire. "Tonight, I will take the woman among you who has proven the most loyal, the blackest of heart, and the purest of blood. She will become my Queen, and your second leader. Her child shall be my heir."

Voldemort gazed piercingly into the masked face of Lucius Malfoy as he said those words; he gave a similar look to the hooded figure of Bellatrix Lestrange, who stood with her husband several places away from Malfoy. Lucius practically squirmed under such scrutiny, but said nothing to argue. Malfoy had hoped for years that he, and later his own son, Draco, would become Voldemort's heir, and he knew that the extremely competitive Bellatrix hated taking second place to another woman. However, the Dark Lord had found a way to beget a child of his own, and Lucius and his sister-in-law remained silent and grudgingly respectful.

"Come forward, Juliette."

There was one gap in the circle; a gap representing the single Death Eater who had not come to the meeting. From beside the gap came a smaller hooded figure, masked as well. She shed her black cloak, mask, and hood as she reached the center of the circle and stood in blood-red robes next to the Dark Lord. Next to the Dark Lord, after all, was her rightful place.

This night, she had avoided changing her appearance at all. Juliette MacBride Snape rarely left her home without some form of concealing spell to change her appearance. Under all the cosmetic changes, she was a petite woman, small-boned and with narrow hips, an oval face, and blonde hair. She was a rather pretty woman… until she opened her mouth. Or took out her wand.

Death Eaters rarely, if ever, shed their masks during a meeting. Although most of them knew the identities of their fellows, it was considered something of a taboo to expose oneself in front of the entire group. Therefore, such a public unmasking stirred the Death Eaters for the second time into a low murmur.

"Silence!"

The voice belonged not to Lord Voldemort, but to the woman beside him.

The man unfortunate enough to be the last speaking turned out to be the traitor Wormtail. Juliette stepped from the center of the circle to face him, leaving her Lord in the center to watch with cruel amusement. Those near her stared with a mixture of horror and amazement as Wormtail fell to his knees and then to the ground, screaming in agony. Juliette's wand was pointed at him, but she had not uttered aloud the word that everyone expected: Crucio.

Somatic spells had, of course, existed for thousands of years before Juliette MacBride Snape used her mind alone to cast an Unforgivable curse. Merlin had been known to use them often, as had the four Founders of Hogwarts. This was not, however, the type of spell that was easily performed without words.

Wormtail cowered, Lucius and Bellatrix stared, and then, as if they were one being, the Death Eaters bowed to Voldemort and his Queen.

- - - -

The ritual began at midnight, amidst the circle of Death Eaters. The bonfire remained in the center of the circle, and by its side stood the Dark Lord and his now very much feared favorite Death Eater.

There, those in masks watched as the Dark Lord and his chosen one exchanged a passionate kiss next to the fire. A wave of Voldemort's hand made the fire stretch out as if with a life of its own. Like a serpent, it spun into a ring of ten-foot-high red flames which circled the soon-to-be lovers and concealed them from view.

Within the fire, Voldemort produced a dagger from within his robes, slitting his left wrist with the blade. He opened his lady's robes; she wore nothing underneath. Then, with agonizing slowness, Voldemort drew the dagger across her abdomen, opening a deep gash in her pale flesh. As the blood began to pour from the wound, Voldemort started an incantation which would invoke the very essence of Dark magic into her womb: magic that even Voldemort could not wield alone. Drawn from the Earth, from each Death Eater standing outside of the ring of fire, and from Voldemort himself, the magic coalesced in Juliette's body.

She screamed – but it was not pain that made Juliette scream. It was power, and her lust for power was second only to her lust for the Dark Lord himself.

Riding on a wave of evil magic, Juliette healed herself, placing her small hands over what could easily been a mortal wound. She then reached out to Voldemort with her bloody hands and pulled him down into the dust, the flames protecting and fortifying them as they began a very unholy conception.

- - - -

Severus Snape was still lying, incapacitated, in the Hospital wing when he heard the first of the screams.

Not daring to sit up, he turned his head toward the sound as Madam Pomfrey rushed into the room in her nightdress.

"What's going on?" she asked, waving her wand at the candles in the room. She bustled to the door of the wing, but found nothing.

"Well obviously, somebody is in need of your ministrations, Poppy. Honestly, when does a scream at Hogwarts not indicate such a need?" Severus was not looking cheerful, lying like a wooden board on his bed in the hospital wing. His neck was very, very stiff.

The silence was broken again by a scream, masculine by the sound of it. The sound was distinctly closer this time, and in the blink of an eye, Madam Pomfrey was out of the room. Her running steps could be heard down the corridor.

The footsteps stopped and began to return to the hospital wing. As Poppy's footfalls came closer, Severus noticed with dismay, the sound of three other sets of feet became obvious, as well as the sound of hushed, frantic voices.

"-just woke up screaming and grabbing at his forehead! I don't even know if he knows where he is, he just keeps muttering about evil things and fire!" The voice belonged, undoubtedly, to a Mr. Ronald Weasley.

The boy's frantic explanation was interrupted by another, long shriek of pain, followed by moaning, gasping breaths.

"Calm down, young man. Can either of you tell me if anything unusual happened before he went to sleep or during the night?" That was Poppy's voice – quite close to the doorway.

"Well, Madam Pomfrey, he mentioned yesterday that he felt… a bit off, like something bad was going to happen. He fell asleep in the common room around ten o'clock while I was playing chess with Ron and woke up a minute later looking like he'd foreseen his own death! I do hope he'll be all right." Hermione Granger's voice, while calmer, was edged with worry as well.

The door to the hospital wing burst open, and in walked Poppy, followed by what could very well be three of Severus's least-favorite people in the entire world. The three teenagers were dressed in their pajamas, looking unkempt. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley flanked their best friend, Harry Potter.

The boy was practically convulsing, writhing in the arms of his friends. He screamed again, causing the two holding him up to jump. Granger was pale to the point of translucence and seemed even smaller than usual under a cloud of unbrushed, bushy hair. However, it was Weasley that really surprised Snape, for his freckled face was streaked with tears.

They're really a wreck, those three, thought Severus, as Madam Pomfrey and Potter's friends forced Potter onto a nearby bed. They don't even notice I'm here. Poppy quickly tied the writhing boy down and began waving her wand over him, but the aura which appeared over Potter was pure blue.

Except for the scar. A red lightning-bolt shape appeared in the blue field above the boy's forehead. Potter moaned as she brushed the hair from his forehead to find nothing visibly wrong.

"It's too late-" he muttered, gasping.

"What is it, dear?" asked Poppy, still searching for a physical cause of his condition.

"Fire- Blood- they have to be stopped!" The nearly delirious boy began fighting against the cords which held him down: at the other side of the bed, Hermione Granger hugged Ron Weasley, pressing his face into her shoulder.

"We'll all DIE!" Potter screamed, straining still.

"This is too much," muttered Poppy. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but you'll thank me for this tomorrow. Stupefy!"

The room abruptly went quiet as Potter fell back, unconscious. Madam Pomfrey once again conjured the diagnosing aura around the boy, which had dissipated when she stunned him. The only sound in the room was a quiet sniffling from Ron's direction.

"There, there, Ron. He'll be alright," said Hermione, patting her friend's back. Ron Weasley lifted his head from her shoulder and wiped his face on his sleeve. It was only then that he noticed Professor Snape a few beds away.

Weasley's face quickly became the color of his hair, and the boy covered his face in embarrassment. However, Snape was no longer paying attention to him.

Thoughts were whirling like miniature Quidditch players through Snape's head. He'd been summoned a few hours ago, and currently, even through the comforting haze of the pain-killing potion, he could still feel the Mark burning. Normal meetings never took that long.

His wife, in whom Voldemort had had an unusual interest, was mysteriously alive again.

She had tried to kidnap the Potter boy.

Potter was undoubtedly feeling the backlash of a very powerful Dark spell.

Dear gods. They've done the unthinkable.

"Poppy-" he said through gritted teeth. "Get. Me. The. Antidote…. NOW."

Madam Pomfrey nearly tripped over Hermione Granger, who was standing in front of an open cabinet with a small bottle in her hand.

"Dizziness Potion, Madam Pomfrey?"

"Thank you, Miss Granger," Poppy replied, taking the vial without even looking at it. She brought it to Severus, who was struggling to sit up. The room was spinning unpleasantly for him as he clutched at the wall for support. He wouldn't just take any potion without checking to see what it was, especially if it was dispensed by some know-it-all Gryffindor.

As he scanned the name on the label and the ingredients list, his vision began to tunnel and a wave of nausea passed over him. I'll be damned if I swallow this without knowing what's in it, he thought stubbornly. His stomach did an unpleasant somersault as he read the last ingredient on the label and belatedly noticed his own signature at the bottom.

Severus popped the stopper out of the vial and downed the concoction, falling back on the bed a moment later. They should call it a Hideous Nausea Potion instead, he thought unhappily, trying not to feel seasick.

It took a few moments for the potion to take effect, and Severus popped out of bed a second later, grabbing his wand from the bedside table. Hermione Granger gave him an indignant look: She must have seen him scanning the label.

Pomfrey stepped in front of Severus. "Professor Snape, I highly recommend-"

"Do kindly save your mother-hen attitude for the brats, Poppy," said Severus sourly, as he donned the outer robes and cloak that had been placed by his bed by the house-elves. Ignoring the new headache that rose in the back of his skull, Severus Snape swept out of the hospital wing in a flurry of black cloth.

A muffled "Accio mask!" echoed from down the corridor, and then Snape's rapid footfalls could be heard no more.

- - - -

Lucius Malfoy stood within the circle of Death Eaters, watching in awe as the ring of fire fluctuated and deepened in color.

At least, it appeared that he was in awe. In fact, Lucius was quite bored, and the fact that what was going on sparked intense jealousy in him did nothing to make him more interested.

A few days before, he had been Voldemort's right-hand man. A few days before, he had been set to become Voldemort's successor. Now, he had to sit by and let his retinas disintegrate as Voldemort did the-Gods-knew-what in the middle of the fire with her.

Gods, he hated her. What was she to be called now? The High Sorceress or some stupid Latin name... I'll remember it later, once she starts striking fear into the hearts of the wizarding community, he thought bitterly. Then there will be a "She who must not be named" as well.

Lucius felt like a forsaken son. He'd been ignored for the last week, along with many of Voldemort's other favorites. He glanced over at his sister-in-law, who stared into the fire with what he could only imagine was resignation; the reappearance of her harshest rival had suppressed Bellatrix's spirit. Unfortunately for Bellatrix, Juliette's dying for Voldemort somewhat outweighed Bellatrix's mere fourteen years in prison: his wife's sister had been upstaged. Ah, Bella, he thought. A year ago, you wouldn't have put up with this kind of crap.

So lost in thought was Lucius that he did not notice the shadowed figure creep up behind him. He continued to stare into the fire.

His staring was interrupted abruptly by the feeling of thin, yet strong, arms around his neck. He was quickly dragged back from his place in a stranglehold, unable even to draw his wand as he struggled to breathe. Crabbe and Goyle, both truly in awe of the ritual being performed and also partially paralyzed by the power of the Dark magic in the air, did not even notice as the man they were supposed to bodyguard was silently removed from their presence.

- - - -

The mausoleum was dark, cold, dry, and silent. At least for the moment.

"Alohamora!"

The door banged open and two cloaked, hooded men stumbled inside. The taller, thinner man dragged the unconscious one inside and dropped him unceremoniously on the marble floor before closing the door. He took the other man's wand and used it to light the room.

He used a partial body bind on the sleeper before roughly shaking him awake.

Lucius Malfoy jerked his head up as awareness returned to him. He quickly found, however, that he could only move his head.

"Whoever you are, you're a dead man! You won't last a week before the Dark Lord takes you! He'll make you suffer-"

A hand was clapped over his mouth.

"Honestly, Lucius, I expected a more… dignified… performance from one of your unique status." Severus Snape lowered his hood. Lucius narrowed his eyes at him.

"It has come to my attention that my… late wife has made an unexpected return from the dead, spreading nasty rumours about my being a traitor. No doubt you've been instructed to kill me."

Lucius shook Snape's hand off and answered in a calmer tone. "Not kill you, Severus. Bring you to him. Gods know what he's going to do to you."

Severus laughed mirthlessly. "Really, I thought you capable of independent thought, Lucius. Did it ever occur to you that letting Juliette walk out of Hogwarts uninhibited would lose me my position as a spy? I can just see Albus Dumbledore forgiving me for letting his golden goose walk right out the door and into our Lord's hands." His voice was as smooth and cold as ice.

"A truly loyal Death Eater would have given up his life if it meant getting that brat Potter."

Severus scowled at Lucius. "Oh, step down off of your pedestal of righteousness, Lucius. You would never give your life for such a small thing."

Lucius did not reply. Although he would not acknowledge it, Lucius knew that Severus was right. So did Severus.

Lucius returned Severus's scowl. "Let me go, would you?" he asked.

Severus released the body bind and placed Malfoy's wand on the floor in front of him. Rearmed, Malfoy stood up to face his fellow Death Eater.

"Whom do you trust, Lucius? Me, or her?" Inside, Severus prayed that Lucius was as jealous as he thought. Jealousy tended to make people stupid.

For a moment, a scheming look crossed Lucius's face. Then it was gone, replaced by a smile. He took a step toward Severus and gave him a brotherly thump on the back.

"Why in hell didn't you show up for the ritual?" he asked. "You've just dug yourself a deeper grave."

"I would have been killed on the spot had I shown up earlier. As much as I hate to admit it, I need you, Lucius. The Dark Lord will believe you. You've been a Death Eater for longer than I have. You have to try to convince him that there was no way I could have let her go." That's pretty weak, Severus, he thought to himself.

Shut up, he thought back.

As an afterthought, he added, "Your son would have had a much less… liberal Head of House if I were to be sent to Azkaban by the Ministry… or killed by the Dark Lord. Helping me really is in your… best interest."

Malfoy hesitated. "Fine," he said shortly. "You owe me dearly, my friend."

------

Thanks to Mystic Dragonsfire, ShadowedHand, and Katie for reviewing. It's very much appreciated, guys!