Author's note: I hope that you enjoy this chapter. Please review!

Guest: Thank you! Yes, the creep factor of Lucius describing the Death Eaters meeting on Halloween as "romantic" was intentional. I'm doing Voldemort's red eyes and snakelike appearance only after the rebirth in Harry's fourth year. I think you're right about another Death Eater using Sectumsempra in the books, but I can't remember who. In my head, Bellatrix, being older than him, joined the Death Eaters before Lucius, so the giggling was intended to be her. (Since I never specified, it could be somebody else, though.) The prophecy (as you can tell from the title) is in this chapter. I think I'll do Snape reporting to Voldemort in the next one.

Warnings: Swearing

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The Prophecy

In the years since Severus's horrific Death Eater initiation ceremony, Eileen and Tobias Snape had moved away from Spinner's End, leaving Severus as the not-so-proud owner of a scuzzy house that was saddled with bad memories.

The first thing he had done was rid the place of its alcoholic reek, a task greatly assisted by magic, which he was now licensed to do because he was of age; the second thing that he had done was clean out the basement. He'd never actually been down there, as Tobias often used it to do Merlin knew what. The room had been filled with dusty junk that Tobias had left behind. Severus turned it into a potions lab and felt smug at the thought that his very-muggle father's storage unit was now a central for "freaky wizardy shit."

It was in this basement-turned-potions lab that Severus had completed the work for his Potions Mastery. He met the requirements on his own—Horace Slughorn might have agreed to supervise, but Severus didn't want to spend any more time under Slughorn's tutelage than was strictly necessary—and then submitted the paperwork to the Ministry for approval. It had been granted.

Being a Potions Master got him legal work brewing for St. Mungo's when they were urgently short on supplies; being the Dark Lord's Potions Master got him illegal work brewing poisons and other concoctions of nefarious intention for both the Dark Lord and some of the Dark Lord's associates. Because he was a friend, Lucius Malfoy was particularly inclined to come to Severus when he needed a rare and specific potion.

Things weren't going quite the way Severus thought they would; it hadn't taken him long to figure out that joining the Death Eaters wasn't going to solve his problems. He supposed that he did feel a sense of acceptance—when the Death Eaters weren't trying to screw each other over, vying for the Dark Lord's attention, and when the Dark Lord wasn't busy torturing his followers for failing him in some way.

That brought up another issue: The Dark Lord might have treated them like they were worth something when he first lured them in, but it had since become obvious that they were only there to do his bidding, and, considering his lack of qualms with killing them off, that they were expendable. While it was true that the public feared Lord Voldemort—another thing which Severus had quickly discovered was that being around somebody who spoke the Dark Lord's name caused pain where the Dark Mark was branded—and his Death Eaters, the Death Eaters themselves didn't actually wield any power. That part had been a lie.

Severus got the impression that the Dark Lord was always mildly disappointed with him because he didn't seem to relish the violent aspects of being a Death Eater as much as the rest of them did. He had been wrong, as a young teenager, to think that he wouldn't have to participate in the raids and that there was a justifiable reason behind them; for the most part, they went on raids for the pleasure of torturing and killing, among other things. Severus did it all, but he did it with business-like detachment, whilst some part of him felt that he would rather be reading a book.

The elusive nature of the Dark Arts and the challenge that they presented still intrigued Severus, and that was what he thought about. In these circles, a passion for the Dark Arts was appreciated. If he focused hard enough on this one detail, he found that he could—sometimes, almost, on good days—trick himself into thinking that becoming a Death Eater had made him happy.

The Dark Lord have given him a mission: Spy on Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and renowned champion of the Light. There were rumours that Dumbledore was the only wizard who the Dark Lord was truly afraid of. Of course, nobody was stupid enough to try and get this confirmed.

Severus had arranged for a job interview with the Headmaster, and he was currently biding his time in Hogsmeade until he had to go up to the castle. The prospect of deceiving Dumbledore made Severus a little nervous—he knew that, despite the man's eccentricities, Dumbledore was a powerful wizard and held a lot of influence; he'd been offered the position of Minister for Magic multiple times, for Merlin's sake!—but Severus was determined to get this right. Returning to his master empty-handed was absolutely not an option.

After visiting the small Hogsmeade apothecary, where he replenished his supply of lacewing flies, Severus pushed open the door to the Hog's Head Inn and Pub. He might as well get a drink while he waited, something to help soothe his nerves.

The pub was not the most attractive place: small and dingy, it was pretty much the opposite of the more-hospitable Three Broomsticks. The Hog's Head's cantankerous proprietor Aberforth Dumbledore didn't help its reputation, for the more patrons filled his pub, the grumpier he became. All of this, though, made it a good place for somebody who wanted to avoid drawing attention to themselves.

Severus received a mere grunt of acknowledgement when he asked for a small glass of Firewhisky, but his drink was soon handed over to him. He placed some coins on the counter, which Aberforth took without looking at him and dumped unceremoniously into a rusted cash box. Severus performed a subtle cleaning spell on the glass while Aberforth's back was turned.

He had taken only one sip of his drink when a witch sat down next to him. Several gaudy-coloured scarves were draped around her neck, and her big, round glasses reminded him of insect eyes, or perhaps owl eyes. She peered at him intently.

"Can I help you?" he asked, scowling.

"Oh no," she said in a dreamy, fluttery voice. "I was simply trying to read your aura. It is quite sickly-looking at the moment."

What the fuck?

"I'm sure that my aura is fine."

"Oh no, your aura weeps for you." Ridiculously, she seemed to be sincere. "You have lost something cherished, and it weeps for you."

"As it so happens, I did lose my peace and quiet when you sat down."

Much to his relief, Aberforth interrupted: "Can I get you anything, Trelawney?"

"Oh no." That phrase was really starting to annoy Severus, who gulped down more of his Firewhisky. He would have ordered a large if he'd known that he'd come across this Trelawney woman. "I am meeting someone. I predict that they will be arriving shortly. That is why I came down, you see. If we could have a private room, though, that would be lovely. The Inner Eye tells me you have one available."

A snort escaped Severus before he could muffle it. Trelawney and Aberforth both ignored him.

"Yes, I can give you a private meeting room," the barman said wearily.

"Ah, see, there he is now."

Merlin, Severus thought, ducking his head to hide his eye roll, anyone she's meeting with must be at least half as crazy as her.

"Hello, Miss Trelawney."

He nearly choked on his drink. Keeping his head down, greasy black hair shadowing his face, his gaze flickered upwards. Aberforth's expression darkened as he looked at the man who had just entered the bar.

"Albus," he greeted his brother curtly.

"Aberforth." While Dumbledore's response was not quite as clipped, neither was it warm and friendly.

"Well, come this way, then."

Severus had thought that he would need to secure a position at Hogwarts in order to get any inside information on its Headmaster, but if he could learn something without having to be employed at the school, that was even better.

Aberforth had gone into the back room shortly after leading Dumbledore and Trelawney upstairs, giving Severus a chance to sneak away unnoticed. After that, it had been straightforward to find the room where the two were conversing, for the walls were not as soundproof as they probably thought, and they had not cast any anti-eavesdropping spells. Severus, however, had yet to hear anything of interest.

This was just a normal job interview, one for the Divination post, a subject that Severus held in the lowest esteem. Dumbledore asked Trelawney about her former occupations and her experience as a seer; Trelawney began babbling about being descended from some famous seer, who must have been realer than she was, because most people probably were. Trelawney struck Severus as a total fraud.

Dumbledore seemed to think the same thing. He wrapped up the interview in a kind and diplomatic fashion: "It has been a pleasure talking with you, Sybill, however, I don't think that your abilities are quite what we're looking for at the moment."

Disappointingly, it looked like Severus would have to go with his original plan. The Dark Lord, he knew, would laugh if he came with such trivial information—well, first he would laugh, and then he would torture Severus for wasting his time.

"No, wait!" It sounded like Trelawney had jumped up and knocked over her chair. "I-"

"Are you all right, my dear?"

When Trelawney spoke again, her voice was different. It was deeper, harsher, and decisive, the antithesis of her usual, insubstantial tone. Severus was suddenly glad that he'd suffered through the entire boring interview.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…"

"I don't allow eavesdropping on my premises!" Aberforth grabbed Severus by the back of his robes and dragged the younger wizard away.

"I came up the wrong set of stairs- I mean the wrong way up the stairs," Severus shouted. The excuse sounded lame even to his own ears. "I was looking for a washroom, and then I caught my foot on the-"

"Spare me. You were eavesdropping." The two other people in the pub, who were talking quietly with their heads bent towards each other, glanced up at the scene. "Get out! And if I catch you in here again, I'll hex your ears off. That'll teach you to listen at closed doors!"

Severus stood outside for a moment, burning with indignation. Then, with mingled relief and excitement, he Apparated away.

That he had been thrown out didn't matter. What he had heard was significant enough to take to the Dark Lord. And maybe the Dark Lord would be completely pleased for once; maybe, for once, the Dark Lord wouldn't mind that he lacked the same bloodlust as the other Death Eaters.