Chapter 12: ….He decided not to think about it.

Severus Snape jerked awake when someone picked him up by the throat, grinding the broken pieces of his jaw together. He could feel his broken and bruised ribs being pushed up against a bookcase, and his feet dangled in thin air.

"Severus," a voice hissed. "I tire of these games. You were one of my better followers, you realize. I didn't appreciate your desertion."

Snape's eyes slowly focused on the voice's owner, who turned out to be standing next the weasel who was crushing his windpipe. Lord Voldemort stood beside him, another small vial in his fingers, twirling it absently. "This vial holds one dose, Severus. One dose of one of your favorite poisons," the Dark Lord whispered.

Severus tried to swallow, raising both hands to grip Pettigrew's silver hand, trying to relieve any pressure.

Voldemort continued, ignoring the captive. "You served me well in the past, so I will be generous to you now. Show me what I need to know, and this," he shook the vial slightly, "will be yours. A death of your own creation. Isn't that so much better than what I could create?"

Severus turned his head away from the vial, defeat apparent in the sudden deflation of his shoulders and the way his injured hands lay limp on the other's hand.

Voldemort almost purred when he saw the figures emerging on the basin's surface. "Coming to our senses, are we?" he murmured, leaning over the basin….

"If you set up Apparating blocks, you'll be locked in the building. They'll walk right in and kill all of you."

Moody looked at the Potion's Master. "Really? And if we don't they'll pop right in!"

Snape sneered. "Put them up and neither can any Auror. We are trained to attack on foot. Are you?"

Moody opened his mouth several times before words came out. "Oh, so now its…"

The memory faded. Voldemort turned to see Snape hanging limply from Wormtail's grasp.

"Put him down, Wormtail," he abolished.

A moment later the memory flared into sharp focus as Snape was dropped to the floor unceremoniously. Wormtail inched forward to see the images as well….

"Oh, so now its us and them now, huh? I thought you worked for the Ministry?"

Snape snorted and leaned back in his chair. "I 'work' for the Headmaster as his potion's teacher. Not for you."

"Gentleman," Albus interrupted. "Back to the task at hand. Which direction will they come in from the most?"

"West, just before sunset."

"Cliché," Moody muttered.

"Practical," Snape snapped. Calming himself, he added, "You cannot see very well looking into the light; with the shadows covering our faces it will be the perfect cover."

"Numbers?"

"There should be …at… least…"

The memory shifted for an instant, flicking to an image of Snape's lab, of bottles being sorted. It returned almost immediately back to the meeting.

"Numbers?"

"There should be at least--"

The memory abruptly died, nothing but blackness replacing it. "Master," Wormtail said, alarm slowly making its way into his voice. "I think he's dying."

Voldemort picked up the traitor's wand and pointed it at the limp form. "Enervate."

The spy's eyes half opened. Glancing back, Voldemort saw the basin's surface glowing then fading and again glowing. Intrigued despite himself, Voldemort returned to the basin to see what went through the broken mind…

The dungeons, students seated. "Mr. Longbottom, are you naturally this wittless, or are you trying to send me to an early grave?" He turned…

…facing the Headmaster. "The werewolf will be teaching here? You want me to get mauled?" He closed his eyes…

…wondering whether or not Black was in the Dark Lord's service, how else could he have escaped—Potter! It was…

…Harry, my son," Lily smiled. "He has my eyes at least. He's only 2 monthes…"

…into his service as a death eater, he killed for his first time, the man had 3 kids, a house…

…he'd be sorted into, the hat took a long time to decide, before calling out, unsure, "Slytherin…

…heir has struck again," Dumbledore said. "An I have no better idea this time than the last…

…Defense teacher stripped my office to the bare walls! What next, a harpy? At least Quirrell had the training before he rented his spine out…

…the open door, the monster lunged forward, a hand knocking him back…

…onto his heals, the hissing words making his blood stop…

…running from the Ministry Aurors that were coming…

…into Hogwarts for the first time…

…he returned to the circle as if nothing…

…nothing…

…

The basin slowly cleared. For a moment the blood-stained carpet flickered into view, then it too faded into clarity.

Voldemort turned around slowly. Before he could form any words, Wormtail had taken his hand away from the spy's throat and said, "He's dead, master."

Voldemort stood completely still for a long moment, in which nothing seemed to move in the room. With a snarl, he whirled and back-handed the basin against the far wall. Cringing, Wormtail watched the glowing liquid slide down the wall's surface. He cringed even more when his lord threw the traitor's wand into the grate, opened the door, stepped out into the hall and said, "Come, Wormtail."

Wormtail obeyed, but glanced over his shoulder. "What is to be done with him, master?"

Voldemort slammed the door behind them both and made his way down into the deserted entrance. "Leave him. He's of no use to me now." He continued to the dusty hearth. "I have business elsewhere." He took a handful of glittering powder, tossed it into the hearth and called out, "Malfoy Manor."

AN: I hope that last scene with Snape's memory is comprehensible. It's very strange to read that part aloud, as that's how I do a lot of my editing. Chapter 13 is coming soon!