"What is evil?"
"Killing is evil, lying is evil, slandering is evil, abuse is evil, gossip is evil."
"And what is the root of evil?"
"Desire is the root of evil, illusion is the root of evil."
Gautama Siddhartha
Spinner's End | Cokeworth
19th of September, 1979
At the very end of Spinner's End, beneath the decrepit exterior of an unassuming home at the end of the lane; within a hidden room that was cloaked in complete darkness save for the light of a solitary candle, Severus Snape stood beside a waiting cauldron. Shadows danced across shelves lined with jars of rare ingredients and dusty tomes, and the acrid scent of potions permeated the air.
The young wizard's eyes, sharp and dark in the dim lighting, were however fixated upon the many vials on the table before him as he carefully and meticulously measured out the ingredients he would need for his latest creation; his mind ablaze with determination and secrecy.
It had been several years since the nineteen-year-old had pledged his allegiance to the Dark Lord, and in that time, he had risen through the ranks of Death Eaters and loyal followers alike with a surprising efficiency; his skills in potions-making and cunning intellect earning him favour among... most of his peers. And now, tasked with a new and secretive mission from his Master, Severus was concocting a brew of unparalleled power - a Polyjuice Potion infused with Dark Magic and capable of granting Voldemort access to the very essence of his enemies.
Pale hands moved with the practiced grace of a Potions Master, each motion deliberate and precise as he double-checked measurements before lighting the fire under the cauldron. The standard recipe for Polyjuice lay before him, its instructions well-known and well-documented. But Severus had no interest in mere mimicry; seeking to delve deeper - to unlock the very secrets of the soul itself.
The dim fire cast shadows that danced across the walls of the hidden chamber, and with each measured ingredient he added, the teen felt the weight of his allegiance pressing down upon him; a constant reminder of the path he had so willingly chosen.
Yet, as the cauldron bubbled and hissed, Severus consulted his tattered textbook - Advanced Potion-Making, its pages filled with the cryptic annotations of the one and only Half-Blood Prince; his most prized possession and very testament to his relentless pursuit of knowledge and power. And with a quill dipped in ink as dark as his intentions, the wizard began to transcribe his modifications to the standard Polyjuice recipe.
His additions were not for the faint of heart, the substitutions potent as they delved into the folds of magic few would dare to tread. But the nineteen-year-old was undeterred, his mind focused despite being ablaze with the endless possibilities before him.
First, he noted the substitutions he'd made with the standard ingredients; replacing the printed words with their far more potent counterparts - mandrake root infused with the venom of a Hungarian Horntail, powdered moonstone harvested under the light of a full moon, and a dash of slivered bicorn horn obtained through... clandestine means.
Next, Severus then detailed the incantations and rituals required to imbue the potion with Dark Magic; a series of whispered words spoken in the language of the ancients, accompanied by a single drop of blood from a willing sacrifice - freely given thanks to his service to the Dark Lord.
But, perhaps, the most significant modification he made, was the addition of a rare and unique ingredient; a single sliver of obsidian rock, its surface etched with ancient runes of unparalleled power. This, Severus knew, would be the very key to unlocking the potion's true potential, granting its drinker access to the very memories of their chosen form. And with each stroke of his quill, the teenager felt a thrill of anticipation course through his veins.
As the potion continued to bubble and hiss, its surface shimmering with an otherworldly glow, the teen allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction. He had managed to do what others had deemed impossible, pushing against the very boundaries of magic itself to service to his cause, and a sense of exhilaration wash over him. Severus knew that this... this would be his masterpiece, his legacy - all but a testament to his ultimate genius, his ambitions, and his unwavering devotion to his Dark Master.
For, within that hidden room located at the end of Spinner's End, amidst the flickering candlelight and swirling shadows, Severus Snape had managed to unlock the very secrets of the soul itself; something that he knew would come to forever change the course of wizarding history.
Severus' incoming apparation brought him to the very doors of the Dark Lord's lair, naught but a chilling and foreboding manor hidden deep within the English countryside. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and decay, and as he entered the grand hall, flanked by silent and hooded Death Eaters, he felt the oppressive weight of their gazes upon him.
But Severus' focus remained unwavering as he approached a throne-like chair and the seated form of Lord Voldemort.
"Master," he greeted, bowing deeply before revealing a velvet pouch and extending it to the Dark Lord. "I have completed the task you set before me. The potion... it is ready."
Voldemort's eyes gleamed with interest as he took the pouch from Severus. His long, pale fingers; fingers of which almost looked to taper off into claws, deftly opened it, and he withdrew a crystal vial, its contents swirling and bubbling with an otherworldly sheen. "You have done well, Severus," he hissed, his voice cold and sibilant. "Though tell me, what makes this potion different from the standard?"
Severus straightened, barely able to keep his lips from curving upwards into a smile as pride - the very chance to speak of a subject he did so love - filled him. "My Lord, this potion will not only allow the drinker to assume the form of another, but it would also grant them access to their memories and thoughts. The obsidian sliver, etched with ancient runes, is the key to this power."
Voldemort's eyes narrowed with interest, a claw-like finger coming to rest atop the cork sealing the potion in his grasp. "And how do you know it will work as you say?"
This time Severus didn't try and stop his lip from twitching, his amusement clear for his Master to see as he admitted with no little shame, "I have tested it on... lesser subjects, my Lord, and each trial was successful. The potion is ready for your use."
A sinister smile curled the Dark Lord's own lips. "Excellent, Severus. And now, I shall see for myself," he said as, with a twitch of a finger and but a flicker of magic, the cork was removed from the vial.
Severus' curiosity piqued, something of which showed in the raising of his eyebrows. And the question couldn't have been stopped from passing his lips if he had tried. "If I may, my Lord, but... whose hair did you intend to use?"
His master's smile only widened; revealing sharp, white teeth as he replied with two words - four syllables - that had the teen's blood running cold.
"Yours, Severus."
"M-mine, my Lord?"
"Yes," Voldemort affirmed, his voice naught more than a low and dangerous purr. "You have shown great loyalty and skill, and I think it is only fitting that you be the first to demonstrate the true power of your creation."
Before Severus could protest, Voldemort reached out with a swift, almost casual motion, plucking a single hair from his head. He dropped it into the potion, which immediately began to froth and change colour; turning from an unnatural and otherworldly glimmer to a deep, shimmering black.
Severus watched in horrified fascination as the Dark Lord then raised the vial to his lips and drank deeply, his heart unsure whether to race its way to an early grave or to just stop then and there and give out completely. The transformation was, as the teen knew it would be, instantaneous - and utterly unnerving as Voldemort's form began to ripple and blur; features melding and changing until, sitting before Severus, was an exact, identical copy of himself.
But it was more than just a physical transformation, something far more horrifying and unexpected as the wizard suddenly felt a strange and invasive presence probing at the walls protecting his mind - walls that had been built to protect him from the very world and did hide his deepest secrets and darkest fears.
Those walls, however; no matter how strong Severus may have wished they'd been, were no match for a creation that had been birthed from his very mind, the Dark Lord's presence slipping right through like a thief in the night and-
Severus' heart did stop then: as his thoughts, his memories, his very essence was laid bare before Voldemort. He could feel the wizard rifling through his mind, sifting through his memories with cold, clinical precision.
And then, like a dagger to his heart, Severus felt Voldemort's awareness settle on a memory he cherished beyond all others - of the very day he had realised his feelings for one Lillian 'Lily' Evans.
Cokeworth
Summer - 1974
It was a rare, idyllic day as the sun hung low over the worn streets of Cokeworth; one of those fleeting moments where the grime and the weariness of the industrial town seemed almost beautiful. And by the only lake in Cokeworth, one that no-one dared to swim in, two figures sat side-by-side, their voices echoing across the rippling water.
Severus Snape, lanky and awkward; with his greasy black hair hanging over his pale face, watched as his best friend tossed another pebble into the river. The water continued to ripple, catching the sunlight and sending a cascade of shimmering reflections back toward the pair as the stone skipped across the surface, but this was missed as Severus instead remained focused on Lily as she turned, her emerald eyes sparkling with joy and her red hair a fiery halo in the afternoon light.
"Did you see that one, Sev?" she questioned, her voice music to his ears and filled with such a brightness that it seemed to make the whole world a little better for just hearing it.
Severus nodded, despite not having paid the slightest attention; a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You have a knack for it, Lily," he still told her, shaking his head as he admitted, "I can never make them skip more than twice."
Lily laughed at his mock disappointment, a sound that was both sweet and achingly beautiful to the young wizard's ears. It was a laugh that had come to haunt his dreams, a laugh that had come to fill the void left by the darkness of his home life and the bullying he endured at school. And here, by the river and with his best friend, Severus felt a peace he found nowhere- with no-one else.
"Maybe it's all in the wrist," she teased, demonstrating with an exaggerated flick of her hand.
Severus could only roll his eyes. "Or maybe it's just you," he said with a put-upon scoff. "You're a natural at everything you do, Lils."
Green eyes glanced in his direction, Lily's expression softening. "You're too hard on yourself, Sev. You're brilliant. You know more about magic than anyone else our age."
"I just... I just want to be good enough," the wizard murmured, ducking his head and dropping his dark eyes to his hands that were stained with ink and potions ingredients, feeling his heart swell with her praise; a warmth spreading through him that he wished could last forever.
Lily's smile faded slightly as she caught sight of the slight pinkening of Severus' cheeks, however; replaced by a look of gentle concern as she misinterpreted the meaning. And she reached out, placing a hand on his, startling Severus enough that his eyes snapped back up to her, widening with his surprise.
"You're good enough, Severus. You're my best friend. Don't ever forget that."
As obsidian-black eyes met emerald-green, Severus sensing the depth of emotions that swirled within, the depths of Lily's concern for him, he suddenly wanted to tell her everything - to confess his own feelings of how his heart ached terribly when she wasn't around, and his legs felt like jelly when she touched his hand, his arm - even his bloody fingers as she passed him a drink from her thermos.
But the words stuck in his throat, fear and doubt once more holding him back.
How could he dump all that onto her, dump his own feelings onto his best friend when she'd never shown even the slightest sign for more, seemingly content with their friendship - his companionship - just the way it was?
Severus just nodded silently, deciding to instead just savour what Lily was willing to gift him; savour the very simple yet rare touch of her hand on his.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the gentle lapping of the lake and the distant hum of the town. Severus wished he could freeze this moment in time, bottle it like a potion and hold onto the rare happiness he felt in Lily's presence.
"I love days like this," Lily breathed, her gaze on the horizon as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the lake. "It feels like anything is possible."
Again Severus nodded, though his mind was far away; lost in thoughts of a future he both yearned for and feared. He wasn't to be someone worthy of Lily, to rise above the squalor of his upbringing and the darkness that had forever threatened to consume him. But he also knew that the path he was on, the choices he had made - or not made - were leading him further away from the very light she represented.
"Lily," he suddenly said, his voice trembling slightly. "Do you ever think about the future? About what will happen to us?"
"All the time," the redheaded witch replied, looking back to Severus with eyes wide and earnest. "But I know that as long as we have each other, we'll be alright," she added animatedly, as if she truly believed her words with all her heart.
Severus could only swallow, his own heart aching with the weight of unspoken questions - unspoken words. "Promise me something," he uttered quietly, his hand turning so it could tighten around Lily's for but a heartbeat before releasing. "Promise me you'll never change. Tha-that you'll always be you."
Lily's smile returned, soft and full of affection, as she replied. "I promise, Sev. And you promise me you'll never change either. You're perfect just the way you are."
"I promise," Severus promised with a small, bittersweet smile; knowing full well that it was a promise he may not be able to keep. But in that moment, with Lily by his side and her hand in his, it felt true.
The memory played out in vivid detail: Lily's bright smile, her emerald eyes, the way she laughed - a laugh that still did haunt Severus' dreams. And as Voldemort watched it with a twisted glee, the nineteen-year-old felt a sharp sting of vulnerability, knowing that his most cherished moments were laid bare before the Dark Lord - that his most secret and treasured memories of Lily's laugh, her touch, and her promise - all of it was now exposed, a dagger to his very heart and wielded by the very man he had pledged to serve, yet of whom currently wore his features.
What had he done?
Obsidian-black eyes, so familiar yet not, snapped up to Severus, glinting with malicious glee. "What have you done, indeed, Severus," Voldemort uttered, the words stolen from his follower's very mind.
Severus' heart pounded with dread. "My Lord, please-"
"Silence!" Voldemort snapped, his voice slicing through the air like a whip - and something of which had Severus taking a step back as the Polyjuiced Dark Lord rose from his throne; the wizard realising with an unnerving fascination as to just how terrifying he could be even at nineteen - the reason as to why Lily had been so adamant that he was naught more than a Dark Wizard in the making.
"I see now as to why you are so devoted, why you strive so hard for approval. You seek to prove yourself worthy, even though you know you are not."
"My Lord, I-"
Severus felt as though the very ground had been ripped out from under him.
"But you are useful to me, Severus," the Dark Lord continued, his tone dangerously soft as he raised a Polyjuiced hand; stroking borrowed fingers ever so lightly over their owner's cheek and smirking when he felt the teen shiver. "And I have use for your talents. This potion, it will serve us well. But mark my words-" his hand suddenly dropped, those same borrowed fingers wrapping around Severus' throat and forcing him to meet his own dark gaze. "-your secrets are now mine."
Like a rag, Voldemort tossed Severus away, his hand still held out before him, watching in fascination as the limb slowly reverted to its original. And raising it to his own face, he could feel the Polyjuice Potion fading as his skin bubbled and stretched before smoothing out once more.
With a click of his fingers, the Dark Lord conjured a mirror, double-checking that there was nothing amiss with his appearance. And only when he was satisfied did he turn back to Severus, who hadn't dared move from where he'd landed.
"Go now, Severus," he ordered. "And remember, I know all that you are."
The nineteen-year-old bowed deeply, his forehead kissing the floor even as his mind reeled with the implications of what had just transpired. "O-of course, my Lord," he managed to utter as he pushed himself to his feet; scrambling to do as his Dark Master did bid - trying to ignore the heaviness of his heart, as well as the tempo of fear and dread that it now beat to.
To be continued...