Severus Snape walked towards the gates leading into the large manor owned by the Malfoy family, his mind in turmoil.
Baring the Dark Mark on his arm, he passed through the suddenly insubstantial portal and into the grounds.
The evening air was ripe with the petrichor of the late afternoon's much-needed rains. Until now, there was no cloud cover to save the earth from the sun's unforgiving heat.
All of that wasn't on Snape's mind. Today, his thoughts like his mood were as black as the night.
And it was all because of that Potter brat. Snape had thought that being proved so wrong so thoroughly and losing his oaf of a godfather would have injected some much-needed humility into the boy.
But he was proven to be wrong. In fact, so great was his arrogance now the brat had the temerity to dismiss him as if he was a non-entity. He had not bothered to acknowledge his teacher, his better. That, more than anything incensed him. And that was counting the incident where the boy had breached his privacy by rifling through his personal memories.
Unbidden, a memory from a long time back played in his mind. Snape scowled at that, his mood plummeting even further. Every time he thought of that incident of Potter turning his back at him, he was reminded of that time, so very long ago, when she had done the same. The look in his eyes was the same look of disgust that Lily had.
Unable to process this further, Snape settled on focussing on things that made him angry. It did a really good job suppressing the complex emotions associated with Lily's abandonment. Dumbledore, predictably, had taken the brat's side. While the headmaster had patiently listened to his complaints, and promised to "talk to the boy", he had, regardless, come back the very next day firmly on the boy's side.
Snape did not know how the headmaster knew of all the incidents over the years. Either the brat, his red-haired sidekick or the Granger chit had blabbed to Dumbledore, over-exaggerating everything as was their wont.
Come to think of it, that inept moron, Longbottom might be one of the other suspects, considering that his name had been mentioned too.
The end result had been a showdown between the Potions Professor and the Headmaster of the school. Dumbledore had actually issued an ultimatum of all things!
Snape would have dearly loved to quit long ago, but he knew (as well as his employer) how essential his post was to the war effort. The moment he left it, his freedom of movement and his usefulness to the Dark Lord would be greatly diminished. That wasn't desirable for either Dumbledore, the Dark Lord or Snape himself.
And it wasn't as if he was completely incompetent. It was only thanks to his efforts that Hogwarts had produced so many exemplary O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, nearly beating the world number one in the subject; Castelobruxo. His predecessor may have been a favourite with many an old student of Hogwarts, but he wasn't as effective as Snape.
So what if his image was the form a Boggart took for a student? And what if he revelled in the usage of cutting jibes and cruel remarks? He wasn't their friend or, (Merlin forbid) their mother, or some such inane nonsense. He was there to teach, and their job was to learn. He most certainly wasn't there to dispense hugs and kisses.
Sneering at a peacock from behind his mask (Lucius Malfoy was every bit as insufferable as his insipid son) Snape turned his thoughts to the task he had been given for the night.
He personally did not see the point in killing off the Dark Lord's dratted serpent, but it was a task that was assigned to him, and it was what he would do.
Snape had carefully thought through his plan. A major advantage he had was that almost every single Death Eater had a motive for killing that legless lizard. Nobody liked the wretched beast, and was it not for the protection she enjoyed from their master, Nagini would have been the victim of an … unfortunate accident long ago. Lucius and Narcissa would have been at the front of that long list had it not been for the fact that the snake rarely bothered them and did not find Lucius' pompous peacocks interesting as food.
Not that Lucius was in any state to complain, seeing as he was gracing Azkaban with his august presence as an inmate. Thoughts of the haughty man wearing prison garb and locked up in a dingy cell lifted Snape's spirits quite significantly.
Quietly prowling through the expansive grounds, Snape did what no Death Eater dared to do: actively go looking for the great snake. There were no meetings as of this moment, the last one having been conducted yesterday.
While the gates had a record of his entry, they wouldn't be able to specifically give his identity away. The Dark Lord had ordered the Malfoys to modify all their security charms for the sake of simplicity. After all, Death Eaters came and went through the grounds almost every day. Only guests (basically people who weren't Death Eaters) had to identify themselves, thus alerting Narcissa of who it was.
That meant that while nobody knew that Severus Snape was on the grounds, they knew that a Death Eater had entered. And seeing as there were quite a few today (he had counted five others so far) it would be difficult to pinpoint the real culprit as long as he was careful.
Suddenly Snape stopped. A little ahead of him was the unmistakable form of Peter Pettigrew.
Sensing an opportunity, Snape slowly approached the man from behind, raising his wand. One silently cast spell later, the man was unconscious at Snape's feet.
Smiling maliciously, Snape cast the Imperius Curse. Tonight one more member of that accursed group of James Potter would die. And it would be by Snape's hand. He would make sure of it this time.
Standing over the rat, Snape reflected that he had ample reason to hate this cretin. Not only was he part of the group that tormented him in his childhood, but this person was the reason why Lily was dead, not to mention that thanks to him, the Dark Lord now had a body, making Snape's life hell. Oh, would he pay…
Restoring Pettigrew's consciousness back to him, Snape willed him to walk in front of him as they resumed their search for Nagini.
Thankfully, Wormtail knew where the snake was, having been tasked with looking after the thing (something Snape knew he hated to do with a passion). It was a short matter of time before Snape spied a large dark shape slithering on the grass on the hunt for prey that was probably non-existent by now.
Casting a disillusionment spell on himself, Snape then willed the weak man under his thrall to attack the snake. Hopefully the element of surprise would be enough to finish the loathsome reptile off.
Snape watched as Pettigrew cast the cutting spell that he had invented once upon a time with the Marauders in mind but never got an opportunity to actually use.
Suddenly the snake twisted out of the way.
Cursing silently to himself, Snape regarded the now hissing animal as it rounded on Pettigrew who so far was unaware that he was in any danger. He had underestimated the snake's reflexes.
The snake paused for half a second before lunging, fangs outstretched. It was at that moment that Snape realised that he had also underestimated the snake's intelligence. For the snake had completely ignored Pettigrew and had gone straight towards him.
Snape desperately dived out of the way, narrowly missing the fangs. Clearly the disillusionment spell was useless against the snake as it could easily detect him. Scrambling, he brought his wand to bear.
His focus on the head, Snape did not see the tail slam into his body, preventing him from effectively casting a spell.
Stunned, the potions master scrambled for his wand. He had just grasped the tool when he felt the two needle-like fangs sink into his body.
He blindly blasted the snake off him, sinking to the ground as the venom coursed through his veins. With a shaking hand, he pulled out a fang from his ribs, hissing in pain.
Feeling the darkness edging his vision, he blindly reached for a phial he had kept with him, thanking Merlin that Arthur Weasley had been bitten by the same snake. Without that incident, he wouldn't have been able to devise this antivenin.
Uncorking the phial, he opened his mouth to drink from it.
When he did not feel the liquid on his lips and tongue, he forced his eyes to focus on the phial.
With horror, he realised then that the container was empty. It had cracked open in the fracas.
Laughing wetly at the irony of being done in by failing to cast an unbreakable charm, he let the broken phial roll away from his hand. Unbidden, the incidents where he had taken glee in teaching his students (particularly one Harry Potter) a harsh lesson for failing to cast that very charm came back to him.
His head lolling to the side, Snape lost consciousness.
Nagini flicked her tongue at the dying man. Knowing she had felled the wizard, she turned her attention to her other target.
As Snape's eyes closed, the thrall of the Imperius Curse on Wormtail lifted.
Pettigrew came to just as an angrily hissing Nagini rounded on him, preparing to strike.
There was a small moment where he noticed that the snake was bleeding at the mouth, missing a fang. That ended when the snake lunged at him.
In desperation, he lashed out with his silver hand.
It was through sheer dumb luck that the artificial hand hit the skull of the snake. Voldemort had created the hand to be incredibly strong, capable of punching through thick stone walls. So the bone of the snake's skull stood little chance, caving in and killing the reptile instantly.
Wormtail stood, looking at the snake's corpse in disbelief. A thick smoke rose from the animal with an eerie screeching sound. Not that he paid any mind to that. No, he was occupied with thoughts of what his master would do to him the moment what happened came to light.
Peter then came to the instant decision that he must run far, far away. Perhaps if he threw himself at Dumbledore's feet, he may have a chance…
Suddenly, Peter remembered the words the Dark Lord had uttered when he had first bestowed upon him his new hand.
'May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail.'
With a thrill of horror, Peter realised that by agreeing so readily, he had entered a magical contract to not betray his master.
On cue, the magically constructed artificial hand flew to Wormtail's throat and started squeezing before he could do anything to stop it.
Struggling mightily to remove the hand slowly choking him, Wormtail sank to the ground, gasping for air, and desperately trying to plead with the hand using his thoughts.
It took him an agonisingly long time to die.
The hand wasn't done yet. It kept squeezing, digging into the flesh and reaching bone, till with a snap, Pettigrew's body literally lost its head.
Petunia Dursley gasped in pain as she collapsed to the floor clutching her face.
'Stupid Muggle,' the masked man who backhanded her said. 'Know your place.' He slammed the door open and walked in as if he owned the house.
'HOW DARE YOU TOUCH MY WIFE, YOU FREAKS!' Vernon Dursley roared, advancing from the drawing room, his fists raised.
He fell to the floor, screaming as the masked man's companion, a woman judging by her build and voice, cursed him.
'And what are you going to do about it, Muggle,' she jeeringly taunted him.
'Enough, Alecto,' the man said. 'We have a job to do. Just secure the Muggle. We will have our fun in due time.'
Saying so, the man flicked his wand, causing ropes to appear out of thin air and wrap around Petunia tightly.
'You're one to talk,' the woman muttered as she bound Vernon up.
'What? She tried to close the door on my face!' The man said indignantly. 'Especially after I was being so nice and everything.'
Even though he was wearing a full mask, Petunia could tell the man was leering at her. 'P-Please,' she said. 'W-we don't have the boy with us.'
'"We don't have the boy with us"' the woman mockingly repeated her words back. 'Like we will believe you, Muggle!'
'Could you get their spawn?' the man said in a long-suffering voice.
'Don't need to,' the woman replied. 'He's right there.'
Looking up, Petunia saw with a thrill of horror that Dudley was at the top step frozen in shock.
'DUDLEY, RUN!' she screamed at the top of her voice.
Laughing, the woman flicked her wand, yanking the boy's ankle and causing him to come crashing down the stairs. Recovering quickly, Dudley scrambled back, his hands automatically going to his behind.
'Where are you going, poppet?' the masked woman said teasingly. 'Mummy and daddy are right here!'
Laughing, she bound him head to foot, his hands now firmly planted on his bottom.
'My, he's a chubby one,' she said jeeringly. 'I've never seen someone so fat before in my life.' leaning over the terrified teenager, she ran a finger down the side of his face suggestively. 'I think the two of us would have some fun, eh, poppet?' she said, whispering in his ear. 'How about it? I doubt you've ever felt the touch of a woman before … I could educate you.'
'DON'T YOU HURT MY SON!' Petunia screeched, struggling against her bonds.
'Oh pipe down,' the man said, gagging Petunia with a wave of his wand. 'You will have plenty of time to scream later once our master is done with you.'
Petunia had very little time to wonder what he was talking about when a third man entered the house.
He was tall, skeletally thin with skin whiter than bone. He had wide red eyes with slits for pupils and a flat nose with slits for nostrils.
All three Dursleys stopped struggling and looked at the man. It wasn't just his appearance that had them stunned, but the pervasive aura of deep evil that came with him.
Petunia knew instinctively that this was the man who had killed Lily all those years ago. One look at Vernon told her that this man's presence had managed to silence him far more effectively than any one of those other freaks.
'My lord,' their two masked captors said, sinking to a knee.
'We have secured the Muggles, my lord,' the woman, Alecto, said unnecessarily. 'They put up minimal resistance.'
'I would hope so. After all, I would be very disappointed if a bunch of Muggles got the best of my Death Eaters.'
Petunia shivered at the high cold voice of the evil man.
'Of course, my lord.' Alecto sounded quite flustered by her leader's cutting words. 'I was merely reporting –'
'Stating the obvious, more likely,' the red-eyed man said disinterestedly causing her to stutter to a stop. His gleaming red eyes roved over the three of them before settling on Vernon Dursley.
'Oh my,' he said amusement colouring his high, cold voice. 'This Muggle isn't afraid of me. Such courage…' with languid strides, he approached Vernon. 'But then,' he said softly. 'This is courage borne of ignorance.' He laughed coldly. 'He thinks we are like Dumbledore's minions.'
The two Death Eaters chuckled sycophantically.
'Let me out, and I'll show you what I am made of, you freak!' Vernon spat.
The two Death Eaters stiffened, but the red-eyed man inexplicably laughed. 'Is that right?' he said dangerously softly. 'And what are you going to do, Muggle? Use that rifle of yours on me?' he scoffed. 'You could barely intimidate Dumbledore's half-breed oaf with that thing. What chance do you have against the Dark Lord?'
'Why don't I show you?' Vernon spat.
'Oh?' Voldemort looked at his Death Eaters. 'Very well then,' he waved his wand.
With a clatter, a box containing the revolver that her husband had recently bought after the dratted boy had left them high and dry floated down from their room.
Voldemort took the gun out from the floating box and held it up to the light. 'This is new,' he commented. 'What do you think, Amycus?' he held the gun out with his finger.
The thickset man lumbered forward, taking the gun. 'Nothing special,' he said taking the bullets and loading the gun with fluid movements.
'How many bullets have you loaded in there Amycus?' Voldemort said, not taking his eyes off Vernon.
'Six, my lord,'
'Six bullets, and only three of us?' Voldemort said sounding like a character from a bad western as he looked around him in an exaggerated fashion. 'Well, that isn't fair. But then we are wizards. I suppose we can allow the Muggle some advantage.'
Taking the revolver, Voldemort spun the cylinder and dropped it at Vernon's feet.
'Go on, then,' he said softly, banishing the fat man's bonds. 'Give it your best shot.'
Standing on shaky legs, Vernon picked up the gun and pointed it at the three wizards. With a yell he pulled the trigger.
Voldemort raised a non-existent eyebrow in disdain when nothing happened. 'You might want to turn off the safety, Muggle,' he drawled as the Death Eaters sniggered.
Blushing, Vernon hastily thumbed the safety off and then pointed the gun. Not bothering to aim, he let loose six deafening rounds right at Voldemort.
'Six shots fired,' Voldemort said, bored. 'And six shots all blocked.' Flicking his wand, he languidly disarmed Vernon. 'And that's what happens when you try to shoot a qualified wizard instead of an oaf who barely scraped through three years of school before being expelled. Not that it helped you then, either. Your bullets might be fast, but at the end of the day, they only come out of the muzzle as fast as you can pull the trigger. Us wizards can think much faster than that.'
Turning to his Death Eaters, he said. 'Can you believe that the half-giant managed to give his brat a pig's tail? It's the reason why he's clutching his backside!'
'No wonder he looks like a pig,' Alecto jeered. 'I wondered…'
'And now we have Petunia,' Pitiless red eyes pinned her to the spot. 'Your sister was a much better person. Naturally, having magic makes her automatically better than you, but she actually had the courage to stand up to me. Yes,' he said to his Death Eaters when they made disbelieving sounds. 'Lord Voldemort recognises bravery when he sees it.' He then smiled coldly. 'Of course, that didn't stop me from killing her…'
Petunia's eyes widened. How was it possible that her dratted sister managed to stand up to this inhuman creature? The very sight of him terrified her!
Crouching down to her level, he looked at her in the eye. 'I wonder if you have the same courage as she did?'
Before she knew what was happening, memories started to float past Petunia's mind at an accelerated pace. She wondered if this was her life flashing past her eyes.
'Evidently not,' Voldemort breathed. 'I suppose it is true when they say that all the good traits are seen only in one sibling. The sister of one of the bravest women I have ever met is nothing but a coward who can only bully defenceless children.' Leaning down, he whispered in her ear. 'And to think that the boy you deride so much is braver than you will ever be. If only you had shown him some kindness, he would have taken measures to try and protect you from me, he does have quite a noble streak, you know. But alas…'
With a cruel smile on his face, he stood up.
'I have looked into their worthless minds.' He said to the Death Eaters. 'They have no useful information for us.' He looked down at Petunia with contempt. 'I leave you to have fun with them. Show them what real wizards …' he looked at Vernon as he said this with a lazy smile. '… can do.'
Voldemort Disapparated, leaving his Death Eaters to have their fun, reappearing back at Lucius' house.
Voldemort was far from happy. When he had heard that Potter had left his relatives' house, he had been quite ecstatic. The boy was not as protected as he was before. He hoped to discern the boy's current location from those Muggles. He even hoped to use them as a bait to get the boy in his clutches.
He should have known he wouldn't find anything there when they found a disturbing lack of additional security. He had wondered at that at first, but after going through the woman's mind, he understood why.
It was blatantly obvious that the boy just didn't care about these people. At all.
It was a pity that he hadn't found out about the boy's home life before. He could have turned the boy against Dumbledore and Muggles too.
Voldemort tamped down the fear he felt when thinking of Harry Potter. That the boy had managed to survive the Killing Curse twice over was unimaginable! Either that Mudblood had done something more than performing that piece of old magic, or the brat himself possessed some talent or power that he was unaware of.
In hindsight, perhaps he shouldn't have tried to possess the boy. Especially so soon after that duel with Dumbledore. Thinking that the brat had died had clearly angered the old man. He had pulled out all the stops. Voldemort had barely managed to survive as it is. It was only thanks to the brat waking up that Voldemort had found some respite. Unfortunately, it had come with the cost of his faithful Death Eater losing an arm thanks to a well-placed blasting charm courtesy of the brat. He had not been able to resist trying one last time to mess with Dumbledore. He had seen for himself how open the boy's mind had been, surely possession would be even easier.
He had not even been able to penetrate the boy's mind, being rebuffed so violently that it had taken all his power to Disapparate away in time before the Aurors tried to attack him. It was unfortunate that Bellatrix was left behind.
It had taken a week to recover from his injuries at the hands of both those two dratted light wizards. Even now, he did not know what was worse, the physical injuries courtesy of Albus Dumbledore, or the psychic and mental injuries courtesy of Harry Potter.
Entering the grounds of the Malfoys' Mansion, he ruminated on one of his most faithful followers. He had yet to find her location or state of health. The damnable ministry had managed to keep her whereabouts under lock and key. Scrimgeour was proving to be a much more effective minister than Bagnold or Fudge.
No matter, his people had managed to locate Amelia Bones' residence and study all the weak spots in the defences. It was only a matter of time before Bellatrix was found and freed, and Bones dead.
His nostrils flared, belying his irritation with Bellatrix. He had long known that she planned on convincing him to conceive a child with her. Not for the first time, he scoffed at the very idea. Children were disgusting creatures, representative of a need to continue a person's legacy after that person dies.
An immortal being like him did not need to pass on his legacy! After all, what need was there to do that when one was going to live forever?
There also wasn't any guarantee that the cursed child won't just grow up to usurp him.
All in all, there was no way that Lord Voldemort would ever consider having a child of all things with any of his servants, no matter how loyal, devoted or how useful they were to him.
Spying a Death Eater hurrying towards him from the side, he halted.
'M-my lord,' the Death Eater stuttered, an air of nervousness rolling off him in waves. 'I have some t-terrible news!'
'What is it?' he said coldly.
'It's Bellatrix,' the man said tremulously. 'News has just come in … she's been Kissed.'
Voldemort's nostrils flared once more. How had they found a dementor to do this without him knowing? As far as he knew, the creatures were still in Azkaban at his orders. The new minister was as much of an idiot and allowed himself to think that the ministry still wielded influence over them. He relished the thought of soon teaching them otherwise. 'That is quite bold of them,' he said musingly. 'Do Rabastan and Rodolphus know?'
'N-not yet, my lord.'
'Have them meet me in the drawing room.' Voldemort thought about how to handle this. 'Is there anything else?'
The man gulped. 'It's your serpent, my lord.'
Voldemort stilled. 'What about Nagini?' he said slowly.
'She's been killed.'
'By whom?' the words coming out of his mouth were deadly quiet.
'Either Snape or Pettigrew or both of them,' the man said timidly.
Not seeing any negative reaction coming from his master, the Death Eater dared to hope that he was going to survive this. Nobody wanted to be the bearer of bad news to the Dark Lord. But he had drawn the short straw…
He did not see the green light coming his way.
And here we go!
A little late, but I just recovered from an illness.
Well, we are coming to the end of this little story ... only a few chapters left!