Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter


Severus was not the only one who noticed the sickly-sweet taint of Dark Magic on the air. Four streets over, Lily Evans sat at her desk writing a letter to her friend and fellow Gryffindor, Alice Storgarth, when the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

She broke out in a cold sweat, her pen slipped from her hand, thumping dully. Her head snapped up and she looked wildly around. She had never felt anything so dark, so evil. There, to her right –

It came from the direction of Spinner's End.

"Severus…" she choked on the name of her once best friend, fraught with panic and fear. She sat there for a moment, horrified by what she saw out her window, a disgusting, dripping, malicious mass bubbling over the house she knew to be his before she bolted from her room. Knocking over her chair as she went, she tore down the stairs, taking no notice of her family shouting after her.

The pounding of her bare feet on the pavement was nearly matched by the pounding of her heart. Severus was in trouble – she knew it.

She had never felt magic be so evil or foul, nor seen it so dark and foreboding. Lily was a Videns Magia, a Magician who was especially sensitive to all forms of magic. Where your average Magician could sense large amounts of magic, a Videns Magia could perceive magic in every way, from the delicate power of potions to the towering wards surrounding Hogwarts.

She knew Severus was mixed with the wrong sort. His magic had grown darker and heavier with each passing year, and that could only lead to disaster for him. And now it has, she thought as she flew down the sidewalk.

His descent to darkness had frightened her to the point where she had been glad to have a reason to end their friendship. The Slytherins had been feeding him their poisonous propaganda since he'd been sorted there, and they had slowly but surely gotten through to him. The sweet, awkward boy she'd known since they were nine-years-old was well on his way to becoming something… monstrous.

She was going crazy with scenarios of what could have happened, each worse than the last, as she ran to his house. Flashes of Severus lying stiff with glazed over eyes, or screaming and writhing in pain pushed Lily to run faster. She ignored the stinging pain in her feet and the stitch in her side. Severus needed her.

She skidded to a halt when she rounded the last corner, the air being knocked from her lungs by the overwhelming presence of dark magic. It oozed from the house, bubbling and black, and almost seemed alive, like it would form a mouth and cackle at her – or bite her finger off. It almost brought her to her knees.

But there, there was Severus, walking down the middle of his street.

Not dead. Not in pain.

Lily let out a shaky sigh of relief that morphed into a strangled sob at the sight, He's okay; he isn't hurt.

She was rather loathe to admit it, but she had missed his quiet friendship over the past year more than she thought she would. Missed his snarky quips about anything and everything, as well as his advice. He always knew what to say to make her feel better, and he always knew what to do.

Lily was brought out of her thoughts at the sound of something hitting the ground. She watched as Severus took off in a dead sprint towards his house, and, being the Gryffindor that she was, Lily followed.

Merlin, he's fast, she thought, darting behind his neighbor's car moments after he burst into his home, his magic whipping around him preparation for an attack – a blinding dark purple to her eyes.

She gripped the stich in her side nearly as hard as she gripped her wand, still trying to catch her breath, made all the more difficult by the overpowering sickly-sweet taint in the air. What in God's name was going on?

Severus wasn't responsible for the Dark Magic, if the way he entered his house was anything to go by. And neither was his mother – Mrs. Snape hadn't performed a lick of magic since the Evanses had moved to Cokeworth back in the summer of 1969.

That left someone else as the culprit.

But who? And why?

Chancing a look, she peeked over the bonnet of the dull silver sedan and was just in time to see Severus looking around his neighborhood intensely – He can't know I'm here, he can't – and stretch his arm out. She could see his magic concentrating around his hand. What is he doing? A second later, her question was answered when the milk he had dropped in the street flew into his hand. Non-verbal and wandless Summoning?! Where did he learn that?!

Their professors had begun teaching them to non-verbally perform all of their spells Sixth Year. It took some practicing, but it was relatively easy once mastered. Wandless magic, on the other hand, was considered impossible to teach at Hogwarts – it came with experience and age, if it came it all. She wouldn't have believed such a feat could be accomplished by someone her age if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes.

He disappeared back into his house, shutting the door behind him.

She slumped down against the side of the sedan and closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose. Who in the hell was responsible for the Dark Magic she felt?

She absolutely itched to sneak over to the window on the front of his house, so she could look in, but she figured she was pushing her luck being as close as she was. While they had still been friends, he had always known when she was sneaking up on him. She'd just have to wait for the mystery person to leave and hope they left through the front door.

Her mind wandered back to the aggressiveness Severus had displayed when entering his home – she had never seen him that ferocious, not even when dealing with the Marauders.

He's worried, she thought, and of course he was, his mother was everything to him, and he'd do anything in his power to protect her – the bruises he always had were a testimony to that.

Lily had meant that much to him at one point, if not more. Severus would have never let anything happen to her.

With that thought, her bitter belief that Severus was no better than his malicious, dark friends shattered.

However, even though he would never intentionally hurt her, his passion for the Dark Arts undoubtedly would result in harm befalling her one day. He was treading a slippery slope; one wrong step and he'd go crashing down. She didn't want to know what the consequences would be if that day ever came. As long as he was obsessed with Dark Magic, Lily didn't feel safe being in his life.

She heard the distinct sound of a door shutting and she was looking over the bonnet of the car in an instant. She saw none other than Lucius Malfoy step out of Severus's home. Lily stared wide-eyed at him as he looked at his surroundings with contempt, and with a crack of Disapparation, he was gone.

He had to be the one to cast the Unforgivable.

She had to tell someone about this.

She shakily rose from her hiding spot and started the trek home, intent on writing a letter to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who had been running ads in every issue of the Prophet urging readers to report in any foul magic being cast in their area.

With a plan firmly in mind, her thoughts began to wander when it struck her; Mr. Snape wouldn't have allowed Malfoy into his home, and according to her father, he hardly left the house anymore since he'd been fired. Severus had never let her over because of his father, so how had a Pureblood who abhorred Muggles manage to gain entry to the Snape home?

The answer hit her like a bludgeoning hex.

Malfoy must have killed Mr. Snape, with the Killing Curse, the magic still oozing from the Snape home was certainly dark enough to have been an Unforgivable. The only way that man would have let another magical being into his home was, as he often reminded his wife and son, over his dead body.

Lily was vaguely aware of her legs crumbling beneath her at the shock of it. Her hand shot out, grasping at the house nearest her to ease her descent.

She really needed to tell someone.

She leaned her head back against the wall and took in ragged breaths through her nose, trying to calm herself down. Mr. Snape had not been a nice man; he had abused Sev for Merlin knows how long… it was still hard for her to think of him as dead – murdered.

Lily pulled herself from her thoughts with a shake of her head. She couldn't stay on Spinner's End – her mother was probably working herself into a froth of worry. She stood, and was about to continue home, when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

It was Severus.

She didn't dare breathe. He was on the other side of the street, all he had to do was look to his left and he'd see her standing there like a deer in the headlights.

He was leaning back against the brick house, his head tilted down with his hair hanging in curtains around his face, shielding it from view. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets. Blue and purple bruises stood out harshly on his pale skin.

Lily took all of this in, concern swelling in her chest.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare, or are you going to speak to me?" He drawled, look up at her with glinting black eyes. They held an intense staring contest for a good thirty seconds before he broke away, pulling a small box out of his pocket. Lily recognized it as a cigarette carton – Since when did he smoke?

"I – what?"

He let out a sigh as he pulled a cigarette from his package and placed it between his lips. A snap of his fingers caused a small flame to jump to life above his thumb, lighting his cigarette with it.

"You're just going to stare, then."

"No," Lily said dumbly, as she continued to stare at him.

He fixed her with a dangerous look, eyes hard. "Go home, Evans. Forget whatever it is you think happened here."

And with that, he pushed off of the wall and walked the other way, leaving her with nothing else to do but follow him.

She ran to catch up with him, her bare feet slapping painfully on the pavement. Deciding to play dumb, she asked, "What happened, Se-Snape?"

He glared at her while taking a drag from his cigarette. Regardless of the danger she could be in, she never did listen to his cautioning when there was a mystery to be solved. She just couldn't help it, she had to know.

He exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Nothing. Now leave me be, before something happens to you."

His threat didn't faze her. "Oh, come off it, I know something happened. Don't insult my intelligence by denying that."

Severus didn't say anything, he just kept walking, occasionally removing his cigarette from his lips to blow out smoke. He didn't acknowledge her, which was slightly irking, but then again, he always did opt for silence when presented with something he didn't want to talk about.

"When did you pick up smoking?"

"Does it fucking matter?" He all but snarled.

"No," Lily said slowly, "Just trying to make conversation." She eyed him warily. This was the closest she had seen him to losing his customary ironclad hold on his emotions in several years. It was… rather explosive, when he did.

Severus stopped walking and rounded on her, his face contorted into a ferocious snarl.

"For fuck's sake – go home, Evans. Leave me alone. You've had no trouble with that for the past year."

"I will once you tell me what happened," she said stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest while looking at him triumphantly. This had always worked in the past.

Severus flexed his hand, making his wand drop down into to his hand from a holster strapped to his arm Lily hadn't noticed before.

He didn't make a move towards her, but the way his eyes flashed coupled with the way his magic flared – threatening and dark – made her falter.

"Nothing happened, Evans. The summer heat got to you, and you imagined things. What you imagined, I couldn't say, now, could I? Kindly fuck off and leave me the hell alone."

With that he stalked away.

This was not the Severus Lily remembered.

{Furius Draconis}

That night, Severus awoke to an owl tapping at his window. He sat up and stared blearily at it, looked over at his clock, then back at it again, this time with a glare.

It was one in the sodding morning.

The owl tapped again. Throwing his covers off, Severus stood and walked over to the window to allow the persistent mass of feathers entry. It hooted gratefully and swooped in, landing on the back of his chair. He took the scroll off the owl's outstretched foot, and opened the message that was, apparently, important enough to wake him up in the middle of the night.

Severus,

Your presence is required at Malfoy Manor at your earliest convenience.

I do not think I need to remind you to wear your best robes.

Heir Lucius Malfoy

Rolling his eyes, Severus tossed the letter onto his bed and went to find his "best robes". They happened to not be very nice at all, especially not by that posh sod's standards. But it would have to do.

By "at your earliest convenience" Malfoy meant that very moment, or he would have waited until at least the sun was above the horizon to summon him.

Why he, of all people, was needed at the ungodly hour of one in the morning was beyond him. But he belonged to the Knights of Walpurgis now. He no longer had a say in how he lived his life.

Severus ghosted down the stairs, his socked feet making no sound on the hardwood floor. He grabbed his boots from by the front door before heading into the den to Floo to Malfoy Manor. He thought of it, but didn't bother leaving his mother a note; she was smart enough to figure out where he went.

He lit the fire with a non-verbal Incendio and then threw in a pinch of Floo powder, allowing the simmering green flames to sweep him away to the Pureblood's manor.

Severus stumbled out into a dimly lit room, and was met by several wands shoved in his face. He could see that the wands' respective owners were all masked.

Gruffly, a voice: "State your name and business."

Severus slowly raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender. "I am Severus Snape. I was asked here by Heir Malfoy."

The wands were immediately lowered, much to Severus's surprise.

"Come. You're expected." A different wizard said. He turned and started stalking across the floor.

Severus was quick to follow, and kept his head down and his mouth shut. He knew these were dangerous witches and wizards who didn't need a reason to cast a curse. He wasn't about to give them a reason to hex him by talking out of turn. His blood status was provocative enough.

Before he managed to leave the room, a stinging hex was shot at him, hitting the side of his face. He staggered slightly, a hand going up to cradle his rapidly swelling face on reflex.

There was a chorus of cackling. Severus knew better than to do anything in retaliation. After all, this was practically an everyday occurrence for him in the Slytherin Common Room.

Severus kept following the masked Knight down an equally dim hall, and it wasn't long before they stopped at a room. The Knight knocked on the door, with slight trepidation, Severus noted.

A voice sounded from within. "Enter."

The door opened, and the Knight shoved Severus in, shutting the door behind him. The same ominous darkness filled the room. Eerie shadows on the walls were cast from a gilded fireplace beyond a wingback, clawfoot chair.

"Severus," the voice said, as the source itself rose from the chair. He could barely make out the silhouette of a man not much taller than himself. "I apologize for waking you so early."

Severus opted for silence.

The voice continued. "However, it has come to my attention that I have run out of an important potion. Rather than buying from a trusted source, as I usually do, I thought this to be an excellent opportunity to test your talents, no?"

Realization of who was in the room with hit Severus like a ton of bricks; he didn't know what to do. He dropped – rather painfully – to a knee in a low bow, eliciting a chuckle from Lord Voldemort.

"You seem surprised to see me, young Severus. Did Lucius not mention it was for me that you were summoned?"

"Ah, no," Severus said, keeping his head down, before he hastily added, "My lord."

His body involuntarily tensed in preparation for the hex the Dark Lord would undoubtedly send his way, Idiot! You dunderheaded fool!

The Dark Lord chuckled again. "Rise, Severus, and worry not. This is your first time meeting me in person, after all, and can't be expected to know the proper etiquette for addressing me."

Severus scrambled to an upright position, but kept his head respectfully bowed. "Thank you, my lord, you are most gracious."

"You have permission to look at me as well, young Severus." He didn't think it possible for a person to sound more amused than Lord Voldemort.

He also didn't think it was possible for him to screw up his first meeting with his lord any more than he already had. It was mortifying.

Severus looked up and his breath caught in his throat.

This… is not what he was expecting the Dark Lord to look like. A sinfully handsome man stood before him. A charming smile that didn't quite cover the electric danger that practically hummed from just under his skin rested easily on his face. His dark eyes were raking over Severus, making him feel oddly exposed as Voldemort walked towards him.

He was unable to help his tongue flicking out to nervously lick his lips, which brought the Dark Lord's attention to his own face.

The transformation in the Dark Lord from charming and welcoming to threatening and foreboding was instantaneous, making Severus's heartbeat dip and then speed up.

Voldemort reached out and grabbed his youngest recruit's face with a strong grip, tilting it this way and that to get a better look at it.

"Does your face always look this way, Severus?" He asked coldly.

Severus was at a complete loss for words. Was this concern for him? Or was this anger at him for having the audacity to show up with a face scorched by a Stinging Hex? How did he answer? Lying was out of the question as he wasn't suicidal, but ratting someone out on his very first night in the Dark Lord's service didn't seem like the best option either.

"Um, no, my lord, it doesn't – not usually. But, it is of no concern – I am a half-blood, I have grown to expect this."

Rage flooded Lord Voldemort's face as his magic flared out, causing the temperature of the room to spike. He maintained a hold on his chin, the grip becoming brutal. Severus was certain he would end up dead, either from the acrobatic feats his heart was executing or by the Dark Lord's hand.

"You are one of my Chosen," he hissed. "They should know better than to mark you so. You will point out who did this to you, Severus and they shall pay."

Severus blinked at him in shock. One of his chosen? What did that mean?

"It – uh – isn't necessary, my lord. I have dealt with worse."

With a snarl, Voldemort forcefully released Severus's face, causing the teen to stagger back, and began to pace, his magic now a heavy, thrumming presence in the room. The teen was certain that if he weren't so accustomed to Dark Magic, he'd be struggling to remain standing under the weight of it. He had heard whispers of the Dark Lord's power, but they did not do a justice to its scope; he was a personification of Ryedeam itself, the Name of Power that wizards have followed and worshiped since Merlin's time.

"I normally do not allow my followers to question me, Severus, but I shall let it slide just this once." Voldemort stated harshly, his dark eyes glinting angrily. He then hissed in warning: "You will do well to never do so again."

He came to a halt and glared the teen into submission before saying again, "You will point out who did this to you, and they shall feel my wrath."

"I, I do not know who hexed me, my lord, the room was dark, and they all were wearing masks…" he trailed off, unsure of what would happen next.

The Dark Lord reigned in his magic abruptly, causing Severus to stumble towards him. He threw the door open with a resounding bang, sweeping from the room. Severus followed, bewildered and more than a little afraid.

They ended up in the room that Severus had arrived in first. After a moment, another door swung open and the Knights arrived. They held their heads high, not daring to look down on Severus in disdain as they normally would in the Dark Lord's absence.

"Which of you did this to young Severus's face? Don't be shy now." Voldemort asked, his voice deceptively calm while placing an arm around Severus's shoulders, bringing him in closer.

It was with that simple act that the Dark Lord's Knights knew one among then had made a grievous mistake. No one was brave enough to step forward, especially not the one who cast the hex.

Severus was more confused than ever. Why was the Dark Lord making such a big deal out of this? It was common practice for those of less than pure blood in Slytherin to be targeted and hexed, he hadn't expected it to be any different with the Knights of Walpurgis.

"Am I to take it that Severus did this to himself, then?" Voldemort snapped, growing impatient, removing his arm from Severus to pace in front of his Knights. "I'm certain your memories will prove this to be true, as none of my loyal followers would dare hide the truth from me…"

Before any of them could step forward in confession, Voldemort began launching vicious mental assaults on them one by one. He went down the line, each Knight left pale and shaking once he was through with tearing through their minds.

It wasn't until he got to the sixth Knight that he found what he was looking for.

"Lestrange," he said, his eyes flashing. The man fell to his knees, cowering before his ruthless lord.

Voldemort glared at the rest of his Knights. "Leave."

They were quick to obey the order before Voldemort could change his mind.

As soon as the door was shut, the Dark Lord snarled the Torture Curse – Crucio – and watched with a gleam of amusement as the head of the Lestrange family writhed and screamed at his feet.

A moment later, the screaming ceased, and the Dark Lord spoke. "I hate that it comes to this, my old friend. But I trust you shall never raise your wand to one of my guests again, especially not Severus."

"N-never again," the man rasped, rolling back onto his knees.

"And you shall make sure your sons will heed this order as well, will you not?" Voldemort pressed. He had gotten the impression from the man's mind of an old smugness that was associated with the current state of Severus's face. As Lestrange had never met the teen before today, it had to come from hearing about what his twin boys had done to Severus.

The man's head snapped up, fear plain on his face. "Of course, my lord."

An uncomfortable silence reigned supreme in the room. "You may go, Llewellyn, my friend. Do not let it happen again, or else I will not be so lenient."

"Thank you, my lord, thank you." Lestrange gasped as he rose to his feet. He gave a bow and quit the room, leaving the two men to their thoughts.

Looking at the door Llewellyn had just scampered through, Voldemort thought of what he'd inferred from Llewellyn's mind and what he knew of Slytherin House. All students with less than a pure lineage placed in Slytherin suffered, just as he had his first few years as a student. But it seemed Severus endured more than the average Mudblood as a group of Gryffindors continuously bested him. They likely thought him to be weak and a shame to Slytherin House for this losing streak. Voldemort knew better. Severus had to be hiding abilities. There was no conceivable way those blood-traitors could truly beat the teen, with the OWL scores he'd received – better than his own! He let a smile stretch across his face. He could hardly wait to train him.

Severus, however, could think of and do nothing but stand in mute horror from behind an impassive mask – what had his mother gotten him into?


Edited by Chrysanthemum247!