Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own it. Never have, never will.
Author's Note: Well, hello, everyone. I am so, so incredibly sorry for the long, long hiatus on this story. It's been a really tough couple of years for my emotional state and my stress level. But I have come out the other side of it a much better and stronger person, and have learned many valuable lessons along the way.
I'm now back with tons of ideas, and some of the lessons I have learned will be incorporated into this story. I know I'm going to love writing it again - I find all the emotional aspects of this story so fascinating. I've read so many Snape mentors Harry fics, and I want to make this one unique. I dearly hope I am successful.
I also wanted to let you know that I have taken another of my stories off hiatus as well, Keep Holding On. It's a Sirius and Harry godfather-godson bonding fic, along with lots of other subplots. I feel like there was so much potential in their relationship that Rowling didn't explore. That story is vastly different from this one, of course. Feel free to check that one out too, if you'd like.
Also, in regards to this story, I will start to branch out with the character povs. Right now, all the scenes have either been from Harry, Draco, or Snape's point of view. Starting in this chapter, I will be adding more perspectives. This particular chapter is from our main villain's point of view. It's hard to delve into the mind of a big bad, but I hope my attempt is successful.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm glad to be back!
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There was a large manor on top of a hill, and it gave off rather a creepy, forbidding vibe if anyone looked at it. It had been standing empty for years, and many people in the town of Little Hangleton did not like to stare at it for very long. Many houses looked warm, cozy, and inviting, but not this one. It was too big for its own good, suggesting that the people who once owned it not only didn't lack for money, but were very boastful and arrogant about how much they had.
But now, all these years later, there was activity within its walls. In a large room that contained opulent decorations, a quivering, ratlike man bent over a chair. In the chair was a small, wraithlike being that contained little resemblance to a human. The eyes were red slits, and the face was flat and snakelike. Its arms and legs were feeble, and the thing could not do anything by itself. It could raise a wand, but only barely.
Lord Voldemort was blind with rage as he stared with absolute disgust and loathing at his weak, pitiful servant, Peter Pettigrew. The man had just shown him the Sunday Prophet, but it couldn't have been more apparent that he was more than hesitant to do so. It had been only fear that had motivated him - he knew that if he hadn't, his master would end up finding out the truth sooner or later. It always had a way of coming out, after all.
He snarled in rage at the fact that he did not have the power he once possessed. If he had, he would have cast Crucio on the man until he was nothing more than a gibbering wreck. Peter Pettigrew was no more than lowly scum, and Lord Voldemort would use any excuse to punish him for any minor transgression - even if it was for giving him information that was not to his liking. But, the truth of the matter was, if he had the power he once held, he wouldn't have received this information in the first place.
One of his most trusted servants, Barty Crouch Jr., a man whose loyalty he was assured of, had failed him. He had been returned to the bowels of Azkaban, and Lord Voldemort would allow him to rot there. He had been discovered, and by Potter of all people. Potter, that absolute imbecile McGonagall, and his once devoted follower, Severus Snape.
Voldemort was not aware of how exactly Crouch had been uncovered, and what he had done to give the game away. But it didn't matter - all Voldemort cared about was that his plan had failed. Potter's name would not be entered into the Triwizard Tournament now. In order to regain his body, the Dark Lord needed his worst enemy, the boy who he despised with every atom he possessed. Harry Potter was the bane of his existence, a little whelp of a boy who thought he could defy him. From what he had learned from that insipid fool, Bertha Jorkins, the Third Task of that ridiculous tournament would take place on June 24. And since that was so close to the summer solstice, that was a perfectly opportune time for the magical ritual to be performed that would have acquired him a new body. Harry Potter would have been used as the pawn he was, tortured, and subsequently killed in front of all his followers. Voldemort would show them that Harry Potter was nothing more than a silly little boy who had only survived because of sheer luck, and because of a kind of magic the Dark Lord had not foreseen. But once he snuffed the life out of the defiant, ignorant child, the entire wizarding world would be brought to its knees, helpless before his power.
But Barty had failed. Once again, Harry Potter had thwarted him. And the fact that Snape had assisted him only added fuel to the fire. During the glorious days of his reign of terror, Snape had been a willing servant to him. His potions skills were ingenious, and his level of magical skill was ... inspiring. He had invented some extremely useful spells that many a Death Eater had used on their victims, and Voldemort admitted that he was very impressed by the man. Subtlety was very much his strong suit, and his wit and intelligence surpassed many of his followers, who either did his bidding out of fear or simple bloodlust. Severus Snape was a very angry, bitter young man when he had come to him, seeking vengeance for the wrongs that had been done to him. Voldemort had promised to give him all that he desired.
He wasn't likely to forget the day when Snape had crawled on his knees before him, and asked him for a favor. The Dark Lord had once again been impressed by the man's utter gumption - not many in his circle, even his most trusted, were brave enough to ask him for a favor. He did not show mercy, and was very quick to grant punishment to anyone who showed weakness. Lord Voldemort, after all, was not known for his forgiving nature.
The young man, with no expression on his face at all, had asked the Dark Lord to spare Lily Potter, the mother of the half-blood brat who had been prophesized to defeat him - him, the Dark Lord. The thought was laughable, but he knew he had to eliminate the threat. Harry was one of two boys who fit the criteria of the prophecy, the first half of which was told to him by Snape himself - and Voldemort would have no problem hunting down the Longbottom boy as well. But his main target was Harry Potter, whose parents were foolish, stupid simpletons who thought it their prerogative to fight him at every turn, never realizing that their efforts were worthless. He would conquer the wizarding world, and their lifeless bodies would lie at his feet, along with that of their pathetic son.
But he had been asked by Severus Snape to spare the woman. Voldemort, with a gruesome smirk on his face, had felt both rage and curiosity thrum through him. He was supremely angered that his servant thought he could bargain with the Dark Lord for the life of a silly Mudblood. But he had heard rumors throughout the ranks about Snape's enmity with James Potter - it was legendary. Perhaps, Snape did not care for the woman. Perhaps, asking him to spare her was his way of seeking retribution against a man who had made his school life hell. Lord Voldemort did not have time for petty schoolyard rivalries - he considered them beneath him. But he was curious despite himself; he could use Snape's anger and hate to his advantage, after all.
So he had agreed to spare the woman if she didn't make a fuss. Surely, if he granted her the choice to live, she would take it, right? Lord Voldemort desired nothing more than to be immortal - watching witches, wizards, and worthless, weak Muggles constantly being cut down before him, either by his hand or that of one of his Death Eaters, he knew that he was too strong to suffer the same fate. He, after all, had taken precautions.
So, surely, the woman would want to live? He had said as much to Snape, and watched with curiosity for any kind of reaction. Snape's expression had been inscrutable, and Lord Voldemort's need to study this fascinating specimen became even more intense. If he could say one thing about his servant, it was that he guarded his emotions very thoroughly.
Severus's bravery had only piqued his interest more when he suggested to the Dark Lord that he could go before Albus Dumbledore, pretending to repent for his sins. If there was one thing Voldemort knew about the old man, it was that he would take in those who wished to seek redemption and atone for their mistakes. Voldemort knew that Dumbledore was much more like him than he realized - he hungered for power, and used his pawns in any way he saw fit. If he thought he could use Severus to hurt Voldemort, he would do so in a heartbeat.
The Dark Lord had brutally punished Snape for having the utter temerity to make such a bold suggestion. Instead of begging for mercy and breaking like many of his other supporters would do, Snape took the punishment stoically. He did not give anything away, and it was this that allowed Voldemort to make his decision. He would allow Snape to go to Dumbledore and offer his services, and closely monitor the situation. Severus Snape was not going to get away with treachery - he would die an excruciatingly slow, painful death if he deigned to go against him.
But as the war had progressed, Voldemort had seen nothing to suggest that Snape was betraying him. There had been several times when his raids had not gone according to plan, but it was always the fault of another Death Eater. Snape's mind was thoroughly searched each time it happened, and yet Voldemort could find absolutely nothing to suggest that Snape was really working for Dumbledore. The hook-nosed, sallow-faced man kept his feelings so tightly guarded that it intrigued Voldemort, excited him more than anything had done in a long time.
But now, looking back, should he have accepted Snape's proposal, or should he have just murdered him on the spot? After all, he had played a huge part in Barty Crouch, Jr., being discovered. Had the Hogwarts Potions Master betrayed him?
He grew livid when he remembered three years ago, when he'd been at Hogwarts on the back of Quirrell's head. It gave him ample opportunity to study Snape. His relationship with Quirrell was hostile, to say the least, but Snape never made it a point to get along with anyone. What prickled his senses, though, was that the man was dogging Quirrell's every step, trying to prevent him from retrieving the Philosopher's Stone for his master. However, Quirrell had never informed him that Voldemort was involved - maybe Snape assumed the pathetic imbecile wanted the stone for himself, and was trying to stop him from achieving that goal? Once again, Snape kept himself so tightly locked that Voldemort couldn't suss him out. It was completely infuriating, and with him being stuck as a wraith who needed another human being to survive, he was helpless to do much about it.
And now, the plan he had concocted to finally be whole again, to inhabit a body, had been thwarted, and Snape was part of the reason. Was he trying to make himself look good in front of Dumbledore, so that he could be trusted even more by the old fool? Or was he a traitor to the Dark Lord's cause, now living in the lap of luxury in his quarters at Hogwarts, grieving for a stupid, worthless Mudblood who had refused to move out of the way when Voldemort had given her the chance to step aside - and three times, to boot? Foolish woman. Her ridiculous notion of love would not save her brat of a son in the end.
Because it didn't matter that this plan had been destroyed. Lord Voldemort, once the smartest student at Hogwarts, and now a man who was defying death, would find another way to return to his former glory. He would no longer be the Dark Lord who had been vanquished by the likes of Lily Potter. He would be stronger, more feared, more powerful than ever before.
And if his first order of business when he returned was torturing Severus Snape until even he, as strong and stoic and stubborn as he was, screamed and sobbed and howled and begged for mercy, then so be it. Lord Voldemort, after all, did not suffer treason.
"Get out of my sight, Wormtail," the Dark Lord hissed at his cowering servant, who was still holding the Sunday Prophet.
Y-y-yes, my Lord. Right away, my L-L-Lord," Pettigrew whimpered as he scuttled out of the room as fast as he could, a look of abject terror in his watery blue eyes.
Voldemort sneered. Sometimes he wondered why he kept Pettigrew around. Well, it was very amusing to watch him cower before him, he thought, letting out a high, cold laugh. Men like him deserved to be in the lowest, most filthy places in society. They were the kind of people who could never think for themselves, who always needed someone to tell them what to do. Well, Lord Voldemort was certainly happy to oblige.
His mind was full of plots, plans, and schemes as he sat alone in the room of his despised father's house. He would never forget pointing his wand at the disgusting Muggle, the father who had abandoned him. Tom Riddle, Sr. and his parents had lived in luxury while Voldemort had lived in squalor in that filthy Muggle orphanage with bratty, snotty-nosed, crying, whining children and uncaring, revolting workers who did not know how to take care of their charges. When Barty Crouch, Jr. had come before him, Voldemort had seen a tool that could be shaped and manipulated to his liking - it was plain to see that the man despised his own father. And Severus - Severus had done the same. He, Barty, and Voldemort - all three loathed the men who had sired them.
But none of that mattered anymore. Crouch was back in Azkaban, and Snape might be a traitor. None of that could interfere with the plans he was making in order to acquire himself a new body. He had several ideas that were flitting through his mind, and he knew he would come up with one that would bear fruit.
When he'd been at Hogwarts three years ago, he had also taken the time to observe his Death Eaters' children. Draco Malfoy's enmity with Harry Potter was just as legendary as Snape's with James Potter. The two heckled and taunted each other as much as they could, trying to make each other's lives hell. And it was obvious that Draco hero worshiped his father - he used him as a role model, as an idol. He would literally do anything the older man asked of him.
Lucius - well, that was another story. Next time Voldemort saw the blond-haired aristocrat, he had many very unpleasant plans for him. The fool thought he could go back into regular society and pretend his Lord didn't exist? Well, he could think again. He'd heard about that imbecilic business at the Quidditch World Cup - did Lucius really think that dangling a family of pathetic Muggles in the air was enough to satisfy him? And all those cowards had run at the sight of the Dark Mark. Barty's smug satisfaction when he informed Voldemort of what had happened had been very humorous indeed. One thing was for sure - Lucius Malfoy was going to get a very, very rude awakening soon.
But in the meantime, he was realizing exactly what it was that he needed to do. He would ask Wormtail to write a letter to Lucius. None of the Malfoys knew that it was Peter who had betrayed the Potters, and Lord Voldemort wasn't about to let them be privy to such information. For all intents and purposes, the letter would be from someone anonymous, but the information in it would be such that Lucius would know it was from a legitimate servant of the Dark Lord.
In short, Lucius's submissive, obedient son was going to be the one to make it possible for Harry Potter to be brought to him. Draco loathed the very ground Potter walked on, and he would do anything his father asked.
Therefore, he would set his plan in motion. Harry Potter might have ducked out of the Triwizard Tournament, but it didn't matter. He would be lulled into a false sense of security, never knowing that his schoolyard enemy would no longer just be smirking, making stupid, empty threats, and proclaiming that his father would hear about anything that went wrong.
No, Draco Malfoy would be showing just how much he hated Harry Potter by bringing the other boy to him to be used, to be tortured, and then to be killed. The thought of Harry's bright, vivid emerald eyes dull and lifeless, staring vacantly into the distant beyond, sent a thrill through him.
"Nagini," he hissed to his loyal snake, who was on the other side of the room.
"Yesss, Massssster," Nagini hissed obediently. "What do you require?"
"Retrieve Wormtail," Voldemort demanded, a malicious smirk twisting what there was of his face. "Immediately."
"Yesss, massssster," Nagini replied, and slithered out of the room to do Voldemort's bidding.
And Voldemort smirked again, knowing that this time, he would succeed.