Chapter 6

Dark Lord Ascending

Severus Snape stepped out of his house and into a brisk night chill, wrapped up tight in a long black traveling cloak. He muttered "Tutum Portumenus" and heard the front door lock click into place with a protective enchantment. Down the front steps and out onto his street corner, he walked along in relative darkness – the lamp posts never worked in little old Spinner's End. The town used to fix them periodically, but soon realized that the neighborhood would quickly smash them to pieces within a few hours. No point throwing away good money, especially to the ungrateful curs of Spinner's End.

Even at this late hour Snape remained cautious, walking as softly as he could with eyes alert to any possible attack. He crossed the street and entered a small park through broken gate, settling behind a small yew tree. Glancing around to make sure he was alone, Snape spun on the spot and vanished with a twirl of his cloak. A few seconds later his feet slammed into uneven ground and Snape found himself in a small graveyard, next to a ceremonial altar made of white alabaster. He sat down on the cold ground, crossed his legs and began to wait patiently.

Within minutes, two of his old school friends had arrived in the cemetery and joined him, the familiar crack of apparition announcing their arrival. Darius Avery and Kyle Mulciber had attended Hogwarts with Snape and had risen through the Death Eater ranks alongside him.

Avery was a stout young man, with beady black eyes and a crooked nose that had been broken countless times. He reminded Snape of the typical enforcer one would find in the muggle hooligan gangs that hung around the local pubs. Brutish and dumb, but you were glad he was on your side when the bar fight broke out. He always had an evil, yet playful look on his face – the cat who ate the canary.

Mulciber was much closer to Snape in stature and personality. Sinewy and athletic, he had the frame of a skinny footballer or swimmer. Blonde locks fell across his pockmarked face with his glowing green eyes that betrayed a quiet menace. Both Avery's and Mulciber's fathers were part of Tom Riddle's original school posse, nicknamed the Knights of Walpurgis – forerunners to the Death Eaters. They were born into pure-blood fanaticism and relished following in their fathers' footsteps.

Staring at them, Snape thought to himself how little he had in common with these men, besides their allegiance to the dark cause. Yes, he closely associated with them during his school years, and naturally everyone assumed they were good friends – even Avery and Mulciber themselves counted Snape as one of their closest confidantes. But close ally was not correct – "proximity friends" was a more apt description of Snape's relationship with his Death Eater brethren.

Snape had spent time with them during his time at Hogwarts because they happened to be in the same house, the same dorm room. Their destinies were intertwined due to an almost symbiotic relationship they formed while at Hogwarts. They had wanted someone to teach them dark magic and how to channel their arrogant bullying into more refined terror, and Snape wanted protection from his incessant assaults at the hands of the Gryffindor house. Snape never considered them real friends, at least not friends he could count on when the time truly came.

"What a party tonight, huh boys?" said Avery to no one in particular. "The initiations always get me jacked up, and there were some beautiful Acolytes being passed around."

"Life's been good since we graduated. Parties, women, galleons – and having the chance to really make a difference in wizarding rights. If only my grandfather were alive to see what we've been able to accomplish in just a few short years," replied Mulciber. "Come now Severus, you can't still be holding a grudge over Regulus' initiation? Always a selfish one, you were."

"I could care less about him, or his pureblood traitor brother. Both are rotten branches of a family tree that yearns for a good pruning," Snape spat. He stood up and brushed the first from his robes, "What's the portkey?"

"It's that broken piece of gravestone over there," pointed Avery. "And as it's turning blue, let us be off."

The three dark wizards each grabbed onto a piece of the shimmering stone – with an abrupt jerk they were transported to the wet hills of Scotland. They quickly made their way across a dead man's bridge and into an open courtyard of the Lair – the castle felt oddly empty and quiet. Whenever the Dark Lord graced the grounds with His presence, the Acolytes and lesser regarded Death Eaters (Demons and Banshees) scattered like cockroaches from a flash light.

The three wizards stalked across the castle's empty courtyard and descended into the dungeons. A long winding stairway made of crumbling stone marked their way down and eventually opened into a dry stone passage. The passageway was lit with swaying torches hanging lazily from the rocky ceiling. Prison cells with rusty metal bars lined the walls and many were filled with starving occupants. Most kept silent as the Death Eaters marched by, but Snape heard a few softly crying or begging for food.

The air was thick with the stench of human waste and dried blood, a miasma of human misery that Snape choked on as he walked by with his eyes down.

"You'd shut your filthy traps if you knew what was good for ya!" snarled Avery at a few of the cages he passed by.

At the end of the stone passageway the stink of the cells wafted away and the wizards found themselves in front of a large oak door, twice the height of a man and doubly long across. A long serpent had been magically carved along its border, with ancient words scrawled all over in a haphazard manner. Mulciber put his palms on the door and closed his eyes, sending a shudder through his body.

"It is I, Kyle Mulciber, faithful Death Eater since 1979, son of Davis Mulciber, my initiate sacrifice was Julie Christie. I stand with two faithful servants, Darius Avery and Severus Snape. If we are worthy, open, and let us pass."

For a long second nothing happened – then a low hiss sounded from the wood as the carved serpent came alive and slithered along the edges of the door. The ancient words scratched into the wood glowed a golden red, as if they had been freshly branded just moments ago, and a shining archway appeared in the middle of the door – the three Death Eaters strode through the wood as if it were made of thin air.

They entered a cavernous room with stalactites hanging like overgrown bats from a natural rock ceiling. A dark pumice throne sat atop a raised dais that lined the center of the room and surrounding the throne, in a closed semi-circle, were sunken chairs arranged amphitheater style. Most of the room was cast in shadows, but impossibly the center dais was illuminated by light, as if the chair itself were made from the Sun. The throne gave off a menacing glow, one couldn't help but be drawn to it.

A dark shadow detached itself from the throne – Lord Voldemort now stood in front of it, garbed in loose fitting black robes with a green trim hood. Snape slipped away from his two traveling companions and quietly found one of the empty remaining seats, waving his wand in front of his face to conjure a silver mask. Most of the Death Eaters within the cave wore masks as well, but a few were confidently showing their faces.

The Death Eater masks were ornate and handsomely crafted with each giving the appearance of a living, breathing face. Each mask had traces of different colors, depending on how long the bearer had been a Death Eater and what services he had performed for the Dark Lord. The mask was not actually a solid object, but a magical face that appeared whenever the Death Eater wanted it to – an ability gained when once was awarded the dark mark. Most bore snakes or skulls, but there were all manner of creatures represented: bears, boars, lions, horses, insects and even a few goat masks were present.

The cave air was hot and stifling, but as Snape settled into his seat, cold perspiration prickled on his brow. Would the Dark Lord sense a turn cloak was now in His midst? Would Snape's necklace betray his duplicity? Would Lord Voldemort sniff out treachery?

The Dark Lord's crimson slits began searching the room – his gaze pausing occasionally and lingering on a Death Eater that caught his attention. Snape averted his eyes and kept his head bowed, but soon felt the Dark Lord's eyes come to rest on him. Unable to stand the pressure any longer, Snape raised his eyes, willed himself to stay calm, felt his mind instinctively locking itself down.

The Dark Lord's penetrating gaze was as intense as ever and Snape felt a breeze sweep across his face – his mask washed away into the air. The silver and red necklace twitched and began to constrict, a python preparing to squeeze its meal. The metal was slowly choking Snape, cutting off his breath – the Dark Lord has sensed my treachery…I shall perish here…deep in this underground tomb…to be buried alive in hell.

But the next instant the Dark Lord looked away and continued appraising the rest of the gathered servants. Snape let out a long ragged hiss…remember to breathe.

The Dark Lord sat down in his throne and waved a pale white hand in front of him. A hushed silence fell over the room and the cave door made a locking sound – God help the Death Eaters who were late and missed the meeting.

The last standing witch turned back to take her seat and Snape noticed it was Bellatrix – she never felt the need to wear a mask amongst her brethren, proud to let all know where her allegiance lay. Her raven black eyes were alight with passion…or was it lust? Being so close to the Dark Lord was an almost orgasmic experience for her.

"Welcome holy knights and true believers," whispered Voldemort, yet his voice echoed loudly around the dark chamber. The pumice throne shone bright, bathed in an unnatural light. "I've summoned you here after my lengthy absence to initiate our plans for a brighter future."

As one the assembled soldiers sat up straight in their seats, a sea of rapt faces attentively tuned in to the Dark Lord's message.

"We've accomplished so much, in such a short period of time – it truly has been impressive and I couldn't be prouder. But much work still yet remains, for those still willing." Lord Voldemort gripped the arms of the throne and stood up, sending a tremor of electricity through the crowd. "It's becoming clear that there's a grass roots movement swelling against us, a small group of hostile muggle lovers and non-believers – they call themselves the Order of the Phoenix, led by the old fool Dumbledore."

The air filled with jeers, hisses and taunts at the sound of the venerated headmaster's name.

"Muggle lover!"

"Wizard hater!"
"We should string him up the neck!"

Voldemort held up his hands and the derisions slowly died out.

"Yes, it's always disappointing to see a wizard turn his back on his magical brothers and sisters to support the fanatical, intolerant muggles – but alas, there's always been evil in this world. I pray that some of the people in this very room will be able to properly…persuade the members of the Order to realize the error of their ways."

Several Death Eater stood up and clapped, whereas many more bellowed out loud cheers. Voldemort soaked up the adulation for a few moments before once again quieting the rousing crowd.

"Our faithful Demons, Banshees and Acolytes will continue pushing forth with the ground effort we've been cultivating. They'll be tasked with continuing our freedom incursions, counter attacks and dissemination of muggle truths. I want the holy knights in this room to focus on a more important matter, something of the utmost importance.

"A faithful spy has brought to my attention the names of two wizarding families that were borne sons this summer. I've a particular interest in these boys. Some of you are familiar with these traitorous families – the Potters and the Longbottoms."

Grumblings and shouts bubbled loud, but Voldemort continued on.

"I want these children and their cowardly families tracked down! Unearth their locations, root out their hiding places! For they represent the final obstacle in our path to raising the wizarding class out of the muck!

"Priority must be given to ferreting out the Potter child, as he's the real prize. The one who brings me the child's whereabouts shall be handsomely rewarded, riches beyond measure awaits one of you!"

The grumblings grew to excited chatter, greed and lust swam around the cave.

Snape had flashes of Lily in pain spring to his mind and he struggled to push her from his thoughts, lest he somehow betray himself among these dark creatures of the night. He had unwittingly released an unholy terror upon her, a deadly storm that would never relent.

"We must stamp out this fanatical Order, these disgusting mud-blood lovers. First name on the list is Edgar Bones – a dead man walking. I command you to eliminate these pureblood quislings once and for all! I'm tired of the restraint we've showed! Enough mercy! I want this traitorous scum to pay for their continued insolence in blood!" roared Voldemort, his voice quickly growing to a booming crescendo.

Not even the Dark Lord himself could have stopped the whooping and hollering that now rang out from the Death Eaters ranks. They were all on their feet, shrieking in a dark frenzy, the Dark Lord's screams echoing off the cave walls and egging them on.

Snape rose to his feet as well, light headed and breathless. The Dark Lord looked so radiant…his words still sang of truth and justice…it was true…why should wizards live in the shadows anymore…

Snape felt a twisting confliction of emotions in his heavy heart – his profound love for Lily had been buried the day she married, yet when he discovered the threat to her person that long dormant love had rushed forth from him like a boiling geyser. It had always been there he realized, an ever present latent emotion.

Yet Snape couldn't simply wash away a lifetime of love for the dark arts, he couldn't just forget the strong devotion to the Dark Lord and the feeling of belonging the Death Eaters had given him.

Confused with himself, Snape stood alongside his dark comrades and roared his approval. The air hung thick with the promises of a rich and bright future and he lost himself in the moment, surging forward with the jostling crowd – each of them believing they were the chosen one.

Snape pressed forward, his robes rubbing his skin raw. The Death Eaters began scrambling over seats and pushing into each other, a black throng swelling and moving as one towards the dark throne. Snape could smell the sweat and stink of the men around him, felt his robes tearing from the swell. The felt himself stepping over a fallen Death Eater, but pressed on, stretching out his hands.

The black sea of devotion pushed closer and closer to the dark throne and the black captain who waited for them. Lord Voldemort's dark charisma drew his soldiers to him like flies to honey and he held his arms aloft and outstretched.

"Go forth Holy Knights of Walpurgis! My faithful Death Eaters! True champions of Wizarding Rights!" screamed Lord Voldemort as his dark hood slipped off. His half human, half skeletal face twisted in a perverse grin – an awful rictus of a smile gleamed menacingly through twisting cavern shadows. "Push forth and bring honor to my house! Bring me the Potter boy! Find the Longbottom child! STRIP EDGAR BONES' FLESH FROM HIS FACE AND SHOW THE WORLD WHAT WE DO TO OUR ENEMIES!"

The mass of Death Eaters crowded around the dais, angry ants swarming to their red queen, arms reaching out towards their Dark Lord – a thick pulsing mass of fervent zeal. A ferocious orgy of emotions swirled through the ranks, the air thick with ardent fervor and a thirst for violence. Unbridled passion poured forth from the Dark Lord, his body pulsed with silver light, blinding his followers.

"GO NOW AND FULFILL YOUR DESTINIES! OUR DEEDS SHALL NEVER BE FORGOTTEN! LET US CHASE IMMORTALITY! TOGETHER!"

The swollen Death Eaters ranks pressed further together, bulging forward as one wave. Screams and cries rang out, as people were pushed and pulled to the ground. Snape heard the cracking of bones and grunts of pain, but remained oblivious to it all, his eyes glazed over in desire.

He the was so close to the Dark Lord he could almost touch him…just a little closer…a little closer…he would finally be able to feel that ancient magical power, the strongest dark wizard in history…just a little closer…

Steam began to emanate from Lord Voldemort as his screams grew louder, fissures appearing all over his robes. His chanting words crumbled into guttural screams as he urged his followers on. A tangle of hands blindly reached out, mere supplicants desperate to touch a walking deity. A few were able to just touch his robes, their palms blistered into angry boils, but they continued to push forward and reach out.

With a final shriek the Dark Lord spun on the spot and erupted in a blinding flash…then melted into the cave air, leaving his trembling servants behind, confused and yearning for more.

Snape lay on his simple cot, up high in the west tower of the Lair, staring at the rain stained rock of his stone ceiling. His heart continued to pound from the intense performance given by the Dark Lord earlier that night. Snape had never read about, much less witnessed, a wizard melting into thin air like that before.

The closest thing was apparition, but apparating was a complicated and dangerous method of travel. Even some of adult age wizards could not do it and many only apparated in case of an emergency. Many places had anti-apparition enchantments nowadays and only powerful wizards had the ability to apparate over great distances. And to apparate across far distances, it was best to be out in the open, unburdened by any enclosures. To disappear like that deep within a deep underground cave was an extraordinary display of magical prowess. Was there nothing the Dark Lord could not do?

After such a dramatic exit, Bellatrix had barely been able to calm the raucous crowd. Many kept chanting, Snape included. He had pushed forward and began kissing the throne along with several others. When his trance finally broke, he pulled himself away and retreated to a corner.

Several Death Eater lay bloodied on the floor, trampled by the wave that had surged forward. Some lay passed out from nervous excitement. Several shoving matches broke out amongst the group, and Snape ambivalently watched as broken noses and bloody lips soon followed. The pent up energy in the cave was a powder keg threatening to explode at any moment, violence was always close at hand at these meetings.

Eventually Bellatrix managed to gather the restless Death Eaters together and relayed the Dark Lord's wishes on personnel and strategy. Snape had full control of himself by then, slightly disgusted with the lack of control he showed.

Confusion reigned supreme in his heart between his love for Lily and his attachment to his dark surrogate family. Snape hoped against hope he would be assigned to one of the Potter search teams, but alas, 'twas not meant to be. He was assigned to a Death Eater assignation squad and Bellatrix had been smugly adamant about it.

"Yes, Severus the snake, you're to hunt down members of the Order for us. Gone are the days where you simply blend into the background, creating spells and potions in a safe lab or playing passive lookout for us. The Dark Lord wants you to get your hands dirty – you've been chosen, asked to show your devotion. You will kill for us…for Him."

Snape had been a tightly coiled ball of anxious energy since Bellatrix's scathing words – for he had only killed once before and it hadn't been with a wand.