October 1992

Severus Snape bowed low as he walked into the room, the big double doors shutting behind him with an ominous thud. The ebbing pain in his left forearm from the Dark Lord's summons subsided with his growing proximity to the red-eyed man lounging in his seat at the head of the table. "My Lord," he intoned carefully; he always refrained from making any sycophantic comments.

"Severus," the Dark Lord returned, gesturing to a seat beside him. Severus took it graciously as the Dark Lord asked, "Your report?"

There were never many pleasantries exchanged nor small talk made with the Dark Lord. Severus nodded once, murmuring, "Of course, My Lord. The Graduating Class of 1999 contains 149 new students- 14 of whom are from Egladus Institution. We have a fairly standard distribution of students across the four houses; that is to say 35 Slytherins, 39 Ravenclaws, 42 Hufflepuffs and 33 Gryffindors. The dossier of each student is within this file," Severus said stiffly as he slid a thick folder onto the table, which the Dark Lord picked up, leafing through the summary casually. "From a preliminary assessment of this cohort, some notable new students include heirs of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families- Andrew Avery, the Carrow twins, Hestia and Flora, and Hector Selwyn." The Dark Lord made a noncommittal hum of agreement. Severus had come to learn over the years that that meant that he was losing interest. Good; the quicker they ended this meeting, the better for his continued good health and mood.

"What of the Class of '98?" He asked idly, "Has your initial assessment differed?"

"No, My Lord. My report to you the year before has proven accurate; there are few noteworthy individuals within the Class of 1998. Those few would include Lucius' heir, Draco. He is at, or near, the top of all his classes, and will make a fine addition to your forces, My Lord."

"If ever he gets over that genetic Malfoy conceit," he responded sharply, "He can barely speak to me now, much less become a competent Death Eater." Severus dipped his head in acknowledgement. He knew the Dark Lord had no fondness for Draco and even he could admit that his godson was more than a little arrogant. However, he doubted the Dark Lord was at all interested in any defence Severus might consider offering on behalf of Draco. In the end, he didn't say a word further on the matter, choosing to move on.

"Theodore Nott has a son in that year, Theodore Nott Jr. Similar to Lucius' heir, he has the potential to do well…" Severus paused slightly considering how to continue his report, which has deviated slightly from the planned agenda.

And any deviation meant a longer audience, which was, once again, not in the interests of his continued good health and mood.

He took a breath, resolving to wrap up this tangent as quickly and cleanly as possible. "Following that, there is a mudblood who lags not far behind Nott Jr. in class assignments… Granger, I believe her name is…" He considered briefly bringing up Harry Potter, but decided against it. "Daphne Greengrass has proven herself rather competent as well," he said instead.

The Dark Lord gave another one of those noncommittal hums. The man at the head of the table remained silent for a while, and his Occlumency shields were the only thing stopping Severus from shifting uncomfortably. The Dark Lord looked up from the folder, fingering that wand that has caused so many so much pain. He waited.

"What are you omitting, Severus?" The Dark Lord asked, cocking his head, and the soft words made the back of Severus' neck prickle with cold fear. He met those ruby eyes for an instant, feeling the man lazily prod against his Occlumency shields, but retreating without doing anything.

"I… am uncertain what you mean, My Lord," he murmured with confidence he didn't feel.

"You were volunteering information about a mudblood to me," he said almost patronisingly, like it explained —and Severus supposed that in a way, it did— the Dark Lord's suspicions.

He has been dealing with children for too long, he thought with a grimace. There was no way he would have given himself away this easily during his time as a spy.

The Dark Lord glanced back down at the folder, the ghost of smile still on his face. Any display of emotion from the Dark Lord made Severus wary under even the best of circumstances and none more than seemingly friendly smiles. "Harry James Potter," he said at last and Severus hoped the Dark Lord did not notice the way he stiffened, "Within the top five positions of every one of his classes," and there was now a tinge of something Severus couldn't quite place in his tone. Sardonicism? He could not tell, but filed it away into his mind. The Dark Lord was likely just doubling-down on the torment after he tried to avoid the topic of the Potter boy. What more could there be to it?

"-and yet you have remained oddly silent about the boy," the Dark Lord continued. Severus swallowed, ignoring the way his heart flared with anger and longing when his thoughts wandered briefly to Potter and Li-

He fought down the sigh his very soul wanted to release. Even after all those years. He steeled himself, banishing all those pointless, distracting thoughts. No, he could not slip up anymore, not with this man watching him with a bored gaze.

"I apologise, My Lord… From what I can ascertain… Mr. Potter's takes after his traitor Father; his…" Severus suppressed a scowl at what he was about to say, "…Magical talents are secondary to his penchant for creating trouble."

"Trouble?" Severus hated how interested the Dark Lord sounded. They were going to be on this topic for a while.

"The boy had, in his possession, a cursed object," When the Dark Lord remained silent, Severus volunteered more information carefully, "A letter, he claimed to have been sent by one of your own."

"One of my faithful servants has the impudence to teach the boy of my enemies?" Oddly enough, the man did not sound angry; his voice halfway between the peculiar tone from earlier and… was that amusement he heard? He let his eyes close for a little longer than a natural blink. Oh, what he would give to know for even a moment what the Dark Lord was thinking.

Still, his words made Severus wary. He did not feel an ounce of sympathy for whoever it was that was foolish enough to have taken Potter under their wing. If he had to sit here in cold discomfort because of Potter, they deserved to get whatever the Dark Lord was planning in his sinister mind.

Regardless, he dipped his head in concurrence, offering, "I will conduct an investigation into this… conspiracy, should you will it, My Lord?" He hardly expected anything but an affirmative, but with the way this meeting had derailed so spectacularly, he wasn't quite willing to risk assuming.

"No," he said, and Severus suddenly had the impression that he was really missing some bigger picture. "I would not bother with an investigation. The child of James and Lily Potter should not be left to fester into a threat," He tilted his head, murmuring, "Do you remember the prophecy you brought me nearly…" He paused, humming in thought, "twelve years ago?"

Severus maintained his stoic mien, but felt his heart plunge into his stomach at the non-sequitur. He truly despised having not even the barest inkling of what the Dark Lord was thinking. "I do," he responded in a measured voice.

"Then it is time for you to finish what you started," the Dark Lord said matter-of-factly. When Severus remained carefully silent, he continued, "I have reason to believe that he is the boy the prophecy speaks of," Severus didn't think it was possible for that sickening feeling he felt developing within him get worse, but it did, and he dreaded where the conversation was going.

"Kill him."

Severus remained stock-still, reminded of why, despite his distaste of children, his posting to Hogwarts was something he continued to be grateful of. As Headmaster of Hogwarts, the only danger he contended with on the daily were the silly pranks of schoolchildren and the pointless scheming of overly-ambitious faculty members. He had the Dark Lord's undivided attention a merciful three times a year at most, during conferences such as this. The man was usually more invested in Ministry matters during Inner Circle meetings.

Unfortunately for him now, that same privilege has put him in an impossible position.

"My Lord…" he started, "If I recall accurately, the prophecy… implies that the boy has… immense power," he paused, "He could be… useful in the future."

"Your opinion is duly noted, Severus," the Dark Lord said in a way that he knew was mocking only after his years of service. "Though I must admit you have planted doubt of that in my mind. I struggle to consider what use someone with a 'penchant for creating trouble' could have." Damn.

"The death of… a child would not reflect… well, My Lord," he knew he was pushing it, but he couldn't — wouldn't — kill the child of Lily.

The Dark Lord shrugged slightly, the all-too-human gesture completely incongruous with the murder plot unfolding before him. "I have full faith that with your expertise, an unfortunate accident that no one could possibly have foreseen will befall poor Harry Potter. The Wizarding World will soon mourn but eventually forget the untimely death of one so young."

There was no way out once he had made up his mind. Severus closed his eyes, prepared to give the Dark Lord his impossible promise. "My Lord—"

"Of course we will not kill the child," he interjected irritably. What? "If I wanted him eliminated, I would have done so twelve years ago. I imagine infants are easier targets, wouldn't you say, Severus?" Only the Dark Lord would speak of infanticide with the same nonchalance as a discussion about 'this terrible rainy weather we've been having for the past few days'. It was what differentiated him from the likes of Bella or Antonin; his indifference stark against their bloodthirsty reverence of death.

"That… would be my assessment as well."

"And while I find your undying love for Lily Potter most heart-warming," he continued sarcastically. Then, his voice took on a dangerous hue, "I do not quite appreciate it interfering with the duty you have sworn to me." He smiled, and it almost would've been sweet if Severus didn't know the man better. "Till death do us part, Headmaster." His Dark Mark flared, making his left arm twitch.

At that moment, a knock sounded at the door, and the Dark Lord waved an impatient hand to allow the doors to swing open. The young man Severus recognised as the Dark Lord's private secretary stepped in with a bow.

"My Lord," he greeted respectfully, before he turned briefly to Severus and acknowledged, "Headmaster," and returned his attention to the Dark Lord. "There is a matter requiring your urgent attention. Code Silver." The Dark Lord nodded for him to continue. Severus, being an Inner Circle Death Eater, was privy to information protected under all Codes except Black, which was only for the Dark Lord to know.

"DEFence has engaged in combat with the Order of the Phoenix three minutes ago in Diagon Alley. They believe Mad-Eye Moody is among them." Severus blinked in surprise. Could this day get any worse?

"Some Second-Year students have been brought to the Alley today for their historical investigation project," the Headmaster supplied.

On the surface, it almost seemed as if the Dark Lord was indifferent to the news but the curling of fingers and the vanishing of the traces of malicious humour from his eyes were all telltale signs of his mounting irritation.

"Defer my appointments for the rest of the day," the Dark Lord ordered, and Severus found himself privately admiring the young man's calmness as he replied ("Already done, My Lord.") something even seasoned Death Eaters found themselves lacking in the face of the Dark Lord's fury. Though, he supposed, one doesn't survive over five years as the Dark Lord's private secretary without being somehow extraordinary.

"Return to Hogwarts, Severus. Relay the identities of the missing students to the DEFence Office," Severus nodded in acknowledgement. "I will deal with this nonsense personally," he said with a roll of his eyes, as he conjured an outer robe to drape over his person.

"Oh, and Severus? Remember what we spoke of today," he said darkly before Disapparating.

The Dark Lord's private secretary released a breath of relief and the almost unnoticeable tension in his shoulders faded away. "That went… well…" he muttered, giving Severus a stressed smile. "Everyone over at Admin is working themselves into a right blue funk. I had at least four people wish me luck on my way here."

"Is this incident not generating a mountain of work for you, Mr. Reynold, or do you simply prioritise idle chatter over your job?" He asked acerbically in response, his mood foul following the Dark Lord's departure.

The stressed smile turned strained. "I would ask you the same, Sir," he returned mildly, dipping his head in a little bow, "Have a good day, Headmaster." The young man collected the files left on the table from their meeting, before he turned to leave out the doors he came in from, completely unfazed. Severus wondered briefly if he had really lost that much of his intimidation factor over his decade at Hogwarts, but decided Coen Reynold was simply used to worse. After all, when one dealt with the basilisk on a daily basis, another snake, no matter how big, hardly had the same effect.

Harry stood at the back of the crowd of Second-Year Gryffindors and Slytherins, next to his History of Magic professor and Theo. He had thought it would be more interesting than this, but regardless, it was still slightly better than sitting through Professor Tyser's class. Harry felt a little bad thinking of that. He thought the History professor was a nice woman, she just wasn't terribly interesting. Their guide today sounded like he was trying hard not to recite the information already in their history books. He did have hope for the second part of this trip though, when they were allowed to work in pairs to discover the history of a particular shop in Diagon Alley from the shopkeepers themselves.

"I don't get it. We can find all of this in the library, why can't we just skip to the second part?" Theo griped next to him in a stage-whisper. Harry shrugged.

It was quite apparent that Theo wasn't the only Second-Year that was quickly losing interest, from the way the rest of them were beginning to behave. Malfoy was sharing the story of how his Father let him accompany him into Knockturn Alley, and how he had wandered the Alley and it's terrors alone.

"I bet you a galleon some of the Gryffindors have already snuck off to the shops," Theo muttered. Harry glanced at him, before they both looked away, their vantage point from the back of the crowd letting them count those with red-lined hoods or red and gold scarves inconspicuously.

Harry had gotten to 25 of the 32 Gryffindors in their year when his gaze paused on a Gryffindor boy practicing the Levitation Spell under his breath on a small piece of cobblestone chipped off from the path. Harry watched the pebble intensely to see if his fellow Second-Year would be able to perform the simple charm they learned over a year ago.

Suddenly, the pebble flew upwards. Harry would have thought it was a successful casting of the spell had it not been for the deafening explosion a distance away from where they stood. Wizards and witches ran in all directions from the site of the explosion, not unlike ripples in a pond spreading outwards, away from the danger.

Someone shouted, "It's Mad-Eye!" and havoc broke loose amongst the pure-bloods whilst the rest stared around in confusion.

"What's going on?" He asked Theo.

"It's the Order! The Order of the Phoenix! Bunch of Dumbledore fanatics!" He yelled back. The guide and professor could not stop the panicking Second-Years as they ran for whatever cover they could find to protect themselves from the explosions that were progressively coming closer. The crowd pushed and pushed, fear controlling the minds of wizards and witches alike, they moved like herds of spooked animals, threatening to stampede over Harry unless he moved away. He turned to pull Theo with him but found himself alone.

Harry did not know which way he was travelling with the aimless scattering of people in all directions. He crashed and collided into countless people for what felt like hours, when it was likely only about five minutes. He let out a shocked gasp when someone pulled on his school cloak.

"Are you in need of an optometrist, Harry? You are running towards the blast sites, you foolish boy," came the familiar snide voice of Marvolo. Harry had never been so relieved to see someone in his life. Before he consciously realised what he was doing, Harry had his arms stretched out and was ready to tackle him with a hug until he felt a force pinning him still and a dangerously calm voice saying, "Don't."

Harry looked up to Marvolo and… his face was all wrong. Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it, but between the shape of his face and the style of his hair… something was different. Similar enough for Harry to know it was Marvolo, but… different all the same.

And, for the first time, he saw vibrant garnet eyes staring right back at him. Harry felt his own eyes widen at the sight.

Another explosion rocked the earth beneath them. His heart was racing so fast, he barely felt the tremor of the cobblestone beneath his feet. A shudder ran through him; whether it was from the explosions or his muted shock was unclear.

"Get into that shop and do not move until I come for you, do you understand?" Marvolo ordered so casually Harry almost thought he wasn't in danger, until screams resumed and smoke filled his nostrils. He wrinkled his nose at the smell.

"Maybe I can-"

"No."

"But if you-"

"I can take care of myself, Harry. The answer is no." Harry felt a sudden calm wash over him, he didn't need to help. He turned around, on a one-track mind to hide in the shop as Marvolo had instructed. When the man disappeared from his sight, the feeling faded along with him and Harry was left crouching in a corner of the empty, dilapidated store.

Red eyes. Since when did Marvolo have red eyes?

Was…? Was Marvolo the… the Dark Lord…?

No. That- that's absurd. H-he can't be—

A blast far too close to the shop for comfort rattled the window panes. Voices shouted something too indistinct for Harry to understand, but too loud for Harry to feel like he could conceivably remain hidden for much longer. He looked around the shop frantically, spotting a back door, which he crept to quickly. Prying the door open slowly to guard against the inevitable creaking of the ancient-looking door, Harry squeezed himself through the gap he created out to the Alley.

There was a fragile, disconcerting peace where he stepped out — a foreboding, calm-before-the-storm feeling permeated the normally bustling shopping street. He tried to derive his location in the desolate Alley, clamping down on the debilitating fear he felt rising up in him whenever he heard shouting.

He sped-walk in the direction he guessed the Leaky Cauldron was, away from the chaos, praying he might run into his schoolmates. The sound of something crashing behind Harry had him whipping around in startled fright. He kept his head turned around, his eyes darting around rapidly, scanning for invisible threats.

The wind was knocked out of him when he collided with a wall in the middle of the path—

Wait, what? A wall?

Oh no. Oh no no no no no- Harry couldn't believe his rotten luck. That was no Death Eater. The man turned quickly, wand at the ready. And then… he lowered it in confusion. "James?" Harry looked between the gobsmacked man and the lowered wand and decided his best option was to run as quickly as possible in the opposite direction.

"Impedimenta!" Harry gasped as his feet lurched to a stop against his will, helpless as the Order member ran to him. Drawing his wand from its holster, he shakily begged his magic to work, "Expelliarmus!"

The man's wand flew out of his hand, much to his evident shock. Encouraged by that, Harry pointed his wand to his feet, saying, "Finite Incantatem". He felt the feeling in his feet return and he stumbled away in a half-run as the numbing sensation from the jinx wore off. He ran in a zigzag manner, hoping that would throw the caster off and allow him to escape.

Harry's lungs burned as he ran, stumbling on the rough ground, pure adrenaline the only thing keeping him upright and going. Where was Marvolo? He wondered desperately.

When the Order realised he was walking among his Death Eaters, almost all of them Disapparated, the sensible ones dragging their more foolhardy, too-brave-for-their-own-good compatriots with them before the Anti-Disapparating Wards could be set in place over the whole Alley.

Lord Voldemort strolled down one of the side-alleys of Diagon Alley with his wand held loosely in his hand, the emptiness a novelty to him. They were practically playing cat-and-mouse with the remaining few Order stragglers at this point. Moody had escaped after wreaking havoc, much to his annoyance, but they have now captured three Order members, and he knew there were more still around to be caught - the wards around the Alley prevented Apparition and appearance-altering spells.

He caressed his wand with his thumb absent-mindedly when he stopped at the turn onto the main boulevard and spotted a figure in the distance running clumsily down the wide walkway. He was prepared to fire a stunning spell at the runner until he took in the wizard's small stature, messy hair and black Hogwarts robes-

For the second time in one day, Lord Voldemort rolled his eyes. He was surrounded by fools.

Casting a Disillusionment Charm over himself, he eyed Harry as he sped past, followed by the man running after his errant protégé. Dedalus Diggle. He shot him with a quick Stupefy. Diggle will make a most fruitful interrogation. With a thump, the wizard fell to the floor, bound quickly by magical rope thereafter.

But still, Harry kept running.

Lord Voldemort stepped out to the boulevard and watched him, wondering how much longer the boy was going to run for before he noticed that no one was after him anymore. Eventually, the boy snuck a glance behind himself, slowing down when there was no one behind him. He hid in the shadows of a side-alley, hands braced against his knees as he fought to catch his breath.

Walking up to Harry, he cancelled the Disillusionment, commenting, "I was certain I asked you to stay in that shop." The boy flinched violently, backing up against a wall, still panting hard.

"O-oh, thank… thank Merlin," he muttered breathlessly. "And I did! I did stay in that shop." Children really were ridiculous, the Dark Lord thought.

"You may very well have the dubious honour of being the worst liar I have ever met."

Harry shot him an indignant look, "I was in the shop," he defended, "But then I heard some noises so I left… I didn't want Order people finding me…"

"I had the shop warded," he said pointedly, "And I seem to be mistaken in my belief that you had more self-preservation than to run out into an active battleground."

"I was fine!"

"If I hadn't stunned Diggle, how long would you have been able to keep running?"

"What kind of a name is 'Diggle'?" Harry muttered under his breath, "And I don't know, I would've figured something out!" Then, something else hit him, "Hold on, how long has he been stunned?"

"A while."

"So I was just running for no reason?" He didn't answer, and Harry rubbed his hands over his face tiredly, giving him a pouty look. The boy caught his eyes, and a look of unease replaced his sulk. "Why do you look…. different?" Lord Voldemort considered how to answer the question, but his silence seemed to unnerve Harry even more, as the boy took to fidgeting and glancing around.

"I think you know the answer to that, whether you choose to believe it or not."

Harry swallowed visibly. "S-so… so you're… you're-"

"I am the same person you have known since you ran into me one year ago." Harry fell silent, hugging himself as he stared at the ground. Lord Voldemort walked back out to the main boulevard to sort out the mess the Order made. And, he supposed, to give the boy some time alone.

He found Barty standing over Diggle with a small team of lower-ranking Death Eaters. The lot of them dropped into a bow when he approached them. "My Lord," Barty greeted eagerly, "We have found and apprehended seven Order members and Diggle here," he reported, kicking the man on the ground, "will be quite the treasure trove of information."

"Good. Bring them to the Palace dungeons." The group of Death Eaters moved to do his bidding while Barty gave him a quick status report.

Harry wandered out in the middle of Barty's report, frozen when he caught sight of the Death Eater. He walked over warily when Lord Voldemort beckoned him to his side. "Um…" he mumbled, uncertain, "C-can I still call you Marvolo?" He asked in what the Dark Lord was sure was supposed to be a whisper, but was loud enough for Barty to catch.

"You may. In private," he said pointedly.

Harry eyed their company, mumbling again to him, "Sorry… uh- My Lord…?" Lord Voldemort suppressed the urge to, for the third time in one day, roll his eyes. He turned to Barty, who had an almost comical expression of confusion on his face that he was most valiantly attempting to mask.

"Bring Harry here back to his schoolmate." When Barty agreed, he continued casually, "And no one will know about this, will they, Bartemius?"

Barty licked his lips nervously, "Never, My Lord," he assured.