Author's note: Question: Does anybody remember why Snape was at the Hog's Head in the first place, when he overheard part of the prophecy? I've read in other fanfictions that he was there for the job interview after Telawney's, but I can't remember if this is canon, or where it might be mentioned if it is.
Incidentally, I hope that you enjoy this chapter. Please review!
Guest: Yes, there's been a (surprising lack) of writer's block with this whole thing. The characters just seem to have their own ideas, and I find it quite easy to get inside their heads (I think Voldemort is the only one that gives me trouble). My theory about James learning Levicorpus is that Snape used the Marauders as guinea pigs when he was creating the spell, so James picked it up from that. In my mind, Sindham was the first larger population that the Death Eaters targeted (up until then it was attacks on individuals or single families). I used it just to give Severus a pause and make him think a bit about the Death Eaters' apparent lack of moral integrity, since he'd been dismissing it (of course, thanks to Lucius, he ended up dismissing that one, too). That's why I included the letters. I admit that the Dark Lord's connection to Sindham isn't something I thought about when I wrote that part, but it would make sense if that's where the orphanage was located. I'll leave it up to the reader's discretion to decide whether the attack was random or intentional. Snape gets his Dark Mark at the end of this chapter. I hope I did it justice.
GoldenHydrangea: Thank you, I'm glad you liked that part.
Warnings: Swearing, torture
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Hogwarts: Year 7
September 1977: Seventh Year
Severus spent the first week of his final year sulking: James Potter and Lily Evans were Head Boy and Girl. Lily, of course, was deserving of the title, but Potter? Potter hexed people for fun in the corridors. Potter was obsessed with stupid things like his hair. Potter was, to put it bluntly, an ass. The only reason Severus could see for Potter's appointment was that he was arrogant and reckless, the perfect epitome of a Gryffindor. Hopefully, Lily would curse Potter because she found him as insufferable as Severus did.
Dear Severus,
I have dropped your name to the Dark Lord. He was dismissive when he learned of your blood heritage, but I think (he can be tricky to read) that I caught his attention when I described your ingenuity with potions and the Dark Arts. I will continue putting in a good word for you.
Sincerely,
Lucius Malfoy
October 1977: Seventh Year
Dear Severus,
I brought up your name at tonight's meeting (the notion of Death Eaters meeting on Hallows' Eve, the day of the dead, is rather romantic, don't you agree?). The Dark Lord remembered that I'd spoken of you previously, which in itself is telling; it means he is open to the idea of recruiting you. Can you give me specific examples of potions and spells that you have invented? I will mention some of them next time.
Sincerely,
Lucius Malfoy
November 1977: Seventh Year
Although his future prospects were actually looking quite bright—Lucius's letters always cheered him up—Severus would have described his day-to-day life as "miserable." There were small irritations, like this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, who was so flighty that his employment seemed a joke, and that time when Severus's entire Herbology class had spent a day in the infirmary, after an accident involving some numbskull trimming a plant too close to its roots and causing it to unleash a cloud of noxious gas; but the really distressing thing was that Lily had added the Marauders to her friend group. Seeing her laughing and talking with James bloody Potter was enough to give Severus homicidal urges. Since when did she get along with Potter?
Dear Severus,
I told the Dark Lord of your accomplishments, and he seemed impressed, or at least interested. He said to leave the matter with him, so now we wait and see what will come of it.
Sincerely,
Lucius Malfoy
December 1977: Seventh Year
Dear Severus,
Congratulations are in order, my friend: The Dark Lord will meet with you in two weeks. Come to the Manor for Christmas break, and he will be there on the 30th.
Sincerely,
Lucius Malfoy
P.S. Good luck on your exams.
There was a fluttery feeling in Severus's stomach. He couldn't tell whether it was nerves or excitement—probably both. Since arriving at Malfoy Manor, he had been quieter than usual, at least according to Lucius. The Malfoys had been fine with letting him practically live in their library; also according to Lucius, Abraxas Malfoy had referred, sincerely, to Severus's borderline obsession with books as "charming."
Today, though, was not the day to get lost in the safety of the written page.
"He demands to be respected. Kneel when you go in, and do not stand up until he tells you to. Even though you are not yet part of the group, your safest bet is to always call him 'my Lord' or 'master.' It will make a good impression, indicate your level of dedication to the cause. Oh, and do not contradict him." Lucius gave Severus a friendly pat on the back to complete his monologue. "You'll be fine. I've put in a good word for you."
"Thank you, Lucius," Severus said. "Your efforts are much appreciated."
In response, Lucius flashed him a charismatic smile. That smile was probably the reason that Lucius had been so popular in school, Severus mused, just to give his brain something less important to think about.
The doors opened with a bang, abruptly pulling him back to the present and making him jump. Although he didn't look over, he could practically feel Lucius's smirk. His friend nudged him forwards, and they entered the drawing room together.
Inside was a man with dark hair and dark eyes. Based on what he'd heard, Severus had been entertaining the ridiculous notion that the Dark Lord was god-like, some twenty-foot-tall figure from Greek mythology; but although the Dark Lord lounged in the armchair as if he owned the place, he appeared quite normal.
Keeping Lucius's words in mind, Severus dropped to his knees upon reaching the other wizard. Eyes downcast, he could tell that the Dark Lord was scrutinizing him, taking in his thin frame and the greasy sheen to his hair, and his Hogwarts uniform, which he had worn because it was the nicest clothing he owned.
"You may rise."
Severus stood back and watched as Lucius repeated the display of reverence. He wanted to study the Dark Lord as the Dark Lord had studied him, but he didn't dare.
"You must be Severus Snape," the Dark Lord said, once Lucius was on his feet again. "I have heard much about you."
He was obviously expected to say something here. He took a deep breath and hoped that he was on the right track. "I am honoured that you have taken the time to see me, my Lord."
"Of course," the Dark Lord said with a faint smile. Severus didn't know whether that meant "Of course you're honoured" or "Of course I'm taking the time to see you," but he was willing to bet quite a lot of money on the former. The man smacked of pureblooded, aristocratic arrogance—and yet, there was something magnetic about him.
"My Lord," Lucius spoke up, "I believe that Severus would be a great asset."
"So you have said." Then he ordered, "Leave us. I wish to speak with Mister Snape alone."
Severus felt his heart beat faster. He tried to calm himself by focusing on the Occlumency techniques he'd taught himself. It would be fine, he would be fine, he didn't need Lucius to guide him through the meeting, of course he didn't. He could handle this himself.
Lucius bowed before retreating. He gave Severus another encouraging smile on the way out.
"Well. Severus." The Dark Lord leaned forward and said his first name slowly, like he was testing it. "Tell me: What can you bring to the Death Eaters?"
"I am a skilled at making potions, my Lord." His mouth felt dry. "I am at the top of my class in all subjects, but I do especially well in Potions. I… possess a deep understanding of how ingredients interact with each other and how best to… utilize their properties. I have been modifying textbook instructions to make the potions more efficient… since the end of third year. When I request lab time at school, I use it to experiment with new potions, instead of practicing the assigned ones."
He tried to relay these things impartially, like facts and not bragging; in the back of his head was the thought that the room might burst if it had to contain any more ego.
The Dark Lord made a noncommittal humming noise. Severus couldn't tell how he was taking the information. "And the Dark Arts," he said, "you are well-versed in the workings of Dark Magic?"
"Yes, my Lord." Severus nodded once. "Lucius, in fact- he was the one who saw to that area of my education. I have been inventing my own spells, too."
"Such as?"
"Sectumsempra is the one I am most… pleased with. It leaves cuts healable only by—or most effectively healed by—a specific counter-curse, which I also created."
"Show me this Sectumsempra spell." The Dark Lord conjured a very life-like dummy and looked at Severus expectantly.
He took another deep breath. Knowing his luck, he was half expecting the spell to malfunction. But, to his relief, in response to the nonverbal incantation, there was a flash of white and a deep gash appeared in the centre of the dummy's chest. It collapsed on the floor, fake blood pouring out of the wound.
"Hm." The Dark Lord vanished the mess, peering at Severus with what seemed like renewed interest. There was a pause. "What do you think of muggles?" He said the word like he was talking about a parasitic bacterium.
Severus blinked at the non sequitur. "We could do without them," he said. It was the first thing that came to mind, something he'd heard from many of his Housemates.
Another faint smile appeared on the Dark Lord's face. "Elaborate."
Figuring that starting with what he knew was as good a place to start as any, Severus began, "My father is a muggle, my Lord." Lucius had already told the Dark Lord that he was a half-blood, so this was no big reveal. "He showed me that the muggle population is… unsophisticated. Vicious. Not to be trusted."
There was a slight untruth to this—through his friendship with Lily, he had met some decent muggles, Mr. and Mrs. Evans included—but the Dark Lord didn't have to know that. Besides, it was true enough; Tobias had heavily influenced Severus's view of the non-magical world, causing him to look on it distastefully. While the entire muggle population wasn't unsophisticated and vicious and untrustworthy like Tobias, no doubt there were others like him. And Severus certainly didn't want any part of the muggle world.
Leaning back in his chair, the Dark Lord regarded him almost lazily. "I was skeptical when Lucius first spoke of you, but you show promise."
There was another pause, on his part this time. "Thank you, my Lord."
"Why do you wish to join the Death Eaters?"
He looked away as he considered how to answer. To explain felt like it would take a week, and he knew that he had to be brief. Finally, he settled for, "I think that I would belong, my Lord."
The Dark Lord's faint smile this time was more of a smirk. "You are dismissed." The drawing room doors opened with a wave of his wand.
Recalling Lucius's departure, Severus gave a deep bow before turning and walking away.
His friend was waiting for him out in the hall. He steered Severus upstairs and into the nearest guest room. "You're still in one piece," he observed. "I assume it went well then?"
Severus sank onto the bed. He was filled with relief that he had done it, anticipation of what would happen next, and fear that his performance hadn't been good enough. "I think so," he answered, sounding out of breath. "I hope so."
January 1978: Seventh Year
James Potter and Lily Evans were dating. Rumour had it that they'd even spent Christmas together. Severus lied to himself over and over again: I don't care. I don't care.
March 1978: Seventh Year
There was still no news from the Dark Lord.
"He is a busy man," Lucius said. "I'm sure that you will get an answer eventually."
Despite these reassurances, Severus couldn't help but feel anxious. He hated not knowing what was happening; he hated being left with the thought that his hard work might get him nowhere.
May 1978: Seventh Year
Dear Severus,
The Dark Lord requests that you meet him on the second of July for an initiation ceremony. Malfoy Manor will again be the place of rendezvous. Congratulations, my friend, you made it.
Sincerely,
Lucius Malfoy
July 2, 1978
Severus Apparated himself to Malfoy Manor on the second of July, as requested. He had become an official Hogwarts graduate only the day before.
The graduation ceremony had been a drawn-out spectacle. There was a lengthy speech given by the Headmaster, and Professor McGonagall smiled at each of them as she handed out the diplomas; there was a lot of cheering, and a lot of hugging, and some of the couples even kissed right there in the Great Hall—the image of Lily and Potter snogging stuck out in Severus's memory, to his disgruntlement.
The Marauders had set off House-coloured fireworks, one colour for each word of the inappropriate message: "See ya later, suckers!" The collective assumption was that Sirius Black had been responsible for the choice of statement. After all of that, the graduates left by boat, the same way they had arrived seven years ago. Some of the students had expressed delight in how romantic that was, but Severus hardly cared. He was more excited to become a Death Eater.
Lucius met him at the gates. "Severus! Are you ready?"
"Yes," he answered decisively, ignoring the sudden onset of nerves. As they approached the Manor's large doors, he asked, "What will it be like?"
"We are forbidden to speak of it, but you'll find out soon enough." Lucius paused. "Prepare yourself." Severus didn't get a chance to ask what that meant before the man continued, "The entire inner circle has gathered, as is customary for an initiation."
Lucius led him to a large room that he had never seen before. It was unfurnished, which gave it a purposeless look. Although it was early evening and still light out, all the curtains were closed, keeping the room drafty and dim. The Dark Lord stood in front of one of the windows, and witches and wizards stood on either side of him, forming a ring.
"Master, he is here." Lucius backed away, and for the second time, Severus knelt in front of the Dark Lord.
"Very good. Rise, Severus." Then the Dark Lord announced, speaking to the whole room, "We are here to take a new Death Eater into the fold. Severus Snape: potioneer, practitioner of the Dark Arts, a half-blood"—he raised a hand to silence the murmurs of surprised displeasure—"but a supporter of the cause."
Severus couldn't remember if he had ever been given the lowdown on what exactly the "cause" was. He guessed that it had to do with pureblood supremacy and wizarding superiority. It couldn't have been as big of a deal as it sounded, though, because he was about to be admitted, despite the muggle part of his heritage.
"Your left arm, Severus."
With a thrill of anticipation, he extended his arm. The Dark Lord pushed up his sleeve and grasped his wrist, pressing the tip of his wand into the underside of Severus's forearm. Purple sparks ignited as the Dark Lord made strange hissing sounds. Parseltongue, Severus realized. He had read about that, the gift of the language of snakes.
Once the sparks had died down, the Dark Lord released Severus. "And now we wait," he said, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smile. Something about the expression reminded Severus of the creepy Morrible Metu of Metu's Tomes, but he didn't have time to dwell on the thought.
A gasp escaped his lips; a needling pain began where the Dark Lord's wand had touched. The feeling steadily grew in intensity, increasing to a stabbing pain, and then a burning pain, and then an even worse burning pain. And still it continued.
Somebody giggled in the background. Severus closed his eyes and clenched his teeth together, determined not to make another sound, even though it felt like he might as well have drenched himself in gasoline and lit a match. In fact, he wasn't convinced that he hadn't been set on fire, as the pain was no longer confined to his forearm: it spread through his entire body, from his hair follicles to his toes. He was vaguely aware that at some point his knees had buckled and he had fallen to the floor.
"Focus inwards and imagine your paradise—clear your mind of all else to forget yourself," he recalled the words from the Mind Arts book. This was certainly putting his Occlumency to the test. He tried to block out the pain and hide somewhere in the back of his head, in the garden that he'd chosen to be his "paradise." His mental garden looked suspiciously like the garden in Lily Evans's backyard.
His Occlumency shield helped. Slightly. The burning was too overwhelming to simply ignore. He didn't know how long he spent writhing on the cold stone in that dimly-lit room of Malfoy Manor, fighting the urge to shout his throat raw.
Eventually, he gave in. Through the sound of his own screams, he thought that he heard another giggle, but it wouldn't surprise him if that was only in his imagination. Delusions and hallucinations would just be the next layer of hell.
It seemed like a lifetime later when the pain abated. Not gradually, but all at once, leaving him shaking and panting on the floor. He shifted so that he could look at his forearm. There, stark against the paleness of his skin, was the Dark Mark, the skull and the snake just as he remembered them.
Lucius reached down and helped him to his feet. The room spun. "You did well," Lucius said sotto voce. "It took almost forty minutes for you to start screaming. Some don't even last ten. It's a long hour for them."
It was a long hour for me, too, Severus wanted to say, but found that he didn't have the energy.
Luckily, the Dark Lord didn't seem to be expecting him to make a speech. Instead, the Dark Lord made a short speech of his own: "I can give you power and acceptance." Although his voice was quiet, there was no doubt that everybody heard him. "I can ensure that your memory lives forever. Follow me, and the world is your oyster.
"Welcome to the Death Eaters, Severus Snape."