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The Great Snape-Deveroux Grudge Match - Part I: The Parvenu vs. The Potions Master by Pigwidgeon [Reviews - 3]

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How many will be brave enough to come when they feel it...?

While Aurellia Deveroux was reminiscing about her rather painful and rocky road to Hogwarts and the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, at the other end of the castle, among the cold damp walls of the dungeons, Severus Snape was also up late brooding about his life and about how he did not like where it was taking him these days.

In particular, he was thinking about something considerably less benign than a Hogwarts faculty meeting. The mark was burning again, and that meant another summons, another midnight meeting with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, another night of questions and suspicions and blending lies and half-truths. Another night of walking that increasingly fine line between light and shadow, between sanity and madness, between life and death.

Snape pulled up his sleeve and rubbed with annoyance at the Dark Mark, debating what to do. If he stalled it would only grow more painful, more insistent until he either had to go or drug himself into insensibility until Voldemort stopped calling. And if Snape went late, Voldemort would be angry because he did not tolerate tardiness very well, not even when there were good reasons for it.

But oh, the Potions master wished so fervently that he did not have to go tonight! He worried increasingly with each meeting that he would never come back again, or that he would come back ... no longer himself. Yet as much as he hated the gatherings, he was becoming addicted to them. And that frightened him more than anything else he'd ever seen or experienced in his life. For it meant that he was in danger of losing control ... again.

And Snape did not like it when he lost control. Very bad things had a tendency to happen during such times.

Driven by discomfort, Snape jumped up and began pacing around the office. He thought about how Dumbledore had reluctantly asked him to put his neck back on the chopping block for the cause, and about how he had even more reluctantly agreed. It wasn't as if the former Death Eater had much choice though, bearing the mark as he did, and suffering from it as Dumbledore could never know, could never begin to understand.
Snape had made a poor choice once, many years ago, and the consequences of that choice would stay with him for the rest of his life. And at the rate things were going, the rest of his life would be a very short time indeed. Playing both sides was slowly killing him.

He thought about that first meeting with the newly returned Voldemort, only hours after the fake Moody had been revealed as Barty Crouch, Voldemort's servant. That night, that meeting, was the first time Snape began to realize just how deeply he was in over his head and how dangerous his life was becoming....

"Severus Snape!" Voldemort greeted angrily. "Give me one good reason not to kill you where you stand! You took your time getting here. You missed my rebirth! Why did you not answer my summons immediately?"

"My sincere apologies, my lord," Snape said silkily. "It is not always easy to leave Hogwarts without ... attracting attention. If Dumbledore ever begins to suspect even a hint of my disloyalty, I will be missing a great many gatherings in the future due to the fact that I have met with an unfortunate and untimely death at the business end of his wand."

Voldemort grunted and seemed only slightly mollified. "Very well, your tardiness is noted and excused ... for now. I expect you to do better in the future. Now, tell me what happened to Bartemius Crouch. Why isn't he here?"

"The headmaster, in one of his rare moments of wisdom, figured out the truth about your servant's clever disguise as Moody, and administered the Veritaserum on him," Snape replied evenly. "Crouch was loyal to you until the end."

"The end?" Voldemort hissed menacingly. "What do you mean, the end?"

"When that buffoon Fudge came in to question Crouch, he brought in Dementors," Snape replied, trying to stifle a shudder. "The Dementors attacked Crouch and administered the Kiss. The boy's soul was removed. I'm afraid he is of no more use to us."

"A pity," Voldemort said. "Truly a tragedy. I had such high hopes for him. So, is Dumbledore aware, then, of my return?"

"Yes, my lord," Snape said. "I heard that by incredible ill luck, Harry Potter made it back to Hogwarts alive. He told Dumbledore everything."

"Do you know what they are planning to do?"

Snape shook his head. "It is early yet, my master, and Dumbledore sent me away very quickly. I took advantage of the opportunity and came straight here. I only hope that no one there goes looking for me while I am here. My absence, if it is noticed, especially in light of all that has happened tonight ... might raise some suspicions."

"Are you hiding something from me, my servant?" Voldemort queried icily, grabbing Snape's jaw with a deceptively powerful spider-like hand and staring him straight in the eyes, crimson to black.

Snape swallowed, struggled to hold the gaze. "I am...mistrusted by some of the students, especially Harry Potter. It is nothing I cannot handle, but my situation could very quickly become precarious. Not all are convinced that I have given up my old Death Eater ways."

Voldemort laughed at that. "And well that you have not my destroyer, my Demon of the Night, my former right hand! I am pleased that you have returned." He let Snape go, and Snape restrained himself from rubbing at his jaw. Voldemort liked inflicting pain, but he did not appreciate any resulting displays of weakness.

"I am pleased that I do not have to kill you after all," the Dark Lord decided as coolly as if he were deciding what to wear to the meeting. "Well, the others are waiting. Put on your mask and remember who you are and whom you serve. Put Hogwarts and its headmaster behind you, and I will try to forget some of the disturbing rumors I have heard about you lately. Let us begin the Com'nhuru Axatl and get down to the business of world conquest, shall we?"

Snape nodded mutely, donned his mask, and pulled his hood over his head. There was a certain cold comfort in retreating, like a greater armored night turtle, back into his sinister shell. Will anyone care, he wondered bitterly, if I never come out again?

But the thought had no sooner crossed his mind when it was replaced by another. The memory of Filch rattling a key in the lock, then bursting through the door of his office looking angrier than Snape had ever seen him before or since.

"Severus, what the hell do yeh think yer doing?" he had shouted, and a fifteen-years-younger Snape had found himself unable to meet the fury in the old caretaker's eyes. And then Filch had stomped over to the Potions master, pushed him out of the way and went to the black cauldron in the fireplace. Filch had thrown his shoulder against it, upended it and dumped its lethal contents all over the fire beneath it. And there had been that long and uncomfortable staring match while the Blacklotus Nacre coated the floor around the fireplace in a scalding pool of sable venom.

"Aw fer god's sake lad, pull yerself tagether. Yeh think yer the only one who's ever lost someone? At least yeh got somethin' to be grateful about. It's all over now, and it weren't in vain what ya done. Now get on with yer life. Yeh got more to do than sit around in yer damn dungeon sulkin' all day and makin' wizardin' poison. Yeh got a generation of young witches and wizards ta train up, and yeh got a life-debt ta repay someday. And yeh ain't gettin' out of it so easily. And by the way, Dumbledore is payin' a lot more attention to order forms and the owl delivery manifests now, so ya better not be thinkin' about making any more o' that floor polish."

Filch certainly had a gruff, no-nonsense way of getting his point across, Snape thought with a smirk. But they had reached an understanding that night, an understanding that Potter was not the only one the Potions master owed a life-debt to, and that friendship often came in the most unlikely forms.

And yet, Filch had been wrong on two very important counts. It wasn't over. And it was in vain what Snape had endured. For Voldemort had returned. Fifteen years ... they had only had fifteen years.

The circle again.

Complis'aohn khe nhuruke axatl. The Circle of Shadow and Flame.

The bonfire snapped and crackled deliriously, shooting scarlet sparks into the oppressive, sultry late June sky. The Death Eaters formed a ring around the fire. Voldemort strode to the center of the circle as the flames leapt and twisted behind him. Lucius Malfoy -- Snape recognized him by his build and stance -- shot a cold stare and an even colder curt nod of greeting through his mask across the circle, and Snape returned it in like fashion. Malfoy had always been jealous of Snape's favored position, but not brave enough to try to do anything about it. Not since that night when Snape had taught him a lesson.

The Death Eaters bared their left arms and displayed their marks, the symbol of their allegiance ... and enslavement to Lord Voldemort and the darkness. A sudden tremor of dread ran through Snape as he remembered the number of times he'd been through this ritual before, and how he had come away each time feeling both empowered and curiously drained. He wondered with an internal shudder just how much of his soul was chipped away, poisoned, shredded, burned to ash each time he went through this. He had already been through one war and dozens, perhaps a hundred or more meetings like this, and he had nearly lost his sanity toward the end of it when the Potters had been killed. And he wondered just how much more of his life he could take before it either destroyed him or he became as evil and as remorseless as Malfoy and Voldemort.

"Hail Lord Voldemort, our leader and master!" the Death Eaters shouted, raising their fists, raising the mark of Voldemort's ownership over their heads. "Hail Lord Voldemort reborn!"

The Death Eaters then lowered their marked arms and linked, each placing his right hand over the mark on the left arm of his neighbor. Nagini circled round and round the flames, her tongue flicking in and out at the gathering. Voldemort raised his arms over the fire, murmured a few words in a strange tongue, and cast a powder into it. Greenish smoke rolled out in billows and engulfed the area in a thick blanket of sour-smelling fumes. Necro-imperium incense, Snape deduced with one sniff. Voldemort's eyes blazed with hunger and hatred and craving for control and domination of his servants, and for the absolute mastery of all he surveyed.

Some things never change, Snape observed bleakly. And some wars never end....

"We are the circle of power," Voldemort declared.

Albus, why did I let you talk me into going back to this? Snape wondered bitterly. It will only be that much harder when I have to choose...

"We are the circle of power," the Death Eaters echoed. "We serve Lord Voldemort, master of darkness."

The fire was flowing now, out of the dark mark and through his veins, through his very soul ... what was left of it. Snape closed his eyes and tried to fight the rush. It was imperative that he not lose sight of why he was here. But the fire was comforting and pleasant, like a long-lost friend, like a gentle caress, like the touch of a woman's hand....

"We are the brotherhood of fire and shadow, of might and craft, of knowledge and greatness. We are the masters of life and death! We fear nothing!"

Snape felt himself beginning to drift, beginning to be drawn into the raging fire, and the scent of the incense was intoxicating, and the heat of the flame within was like the thrill of the hunt, the capture, the kill, the trickle of warm blood....

"We reject the weak, the infirm, the impure. We will purge the world with fire until it is cleansed! Until it is pure! Until it is ours!"

I can't do this! Snape thought desperately, dancing on the cusp of the flames, I like this too much....

"We are the Death Eaters, servants of the Great Lord Voldemort reborn, master of darkness, conqueror of all who resist his mark!"

I can't go through another war like this! Snape thought, more frightened than he'd been in nearly sixteen years. I must tell Dumbledore when I return to Hogwarts. I cannot do this anymore!

"Good, excellent my servants," Voldemort crooned, "Now that you all have returned to me, we have a great deal of work to do. Pettigrew, come forward." And Snape stared in amazement as a very alive and well Peter Pettigrew pulled back the hood of his cloak, removed his mask, and broke from the circle, and strode to the center to stand beside Lord Voldemort.

So ... what Harry Potter said is true, Snape thought caustically. Wormtail faked his death, betrayed the Potters, framed Black. If he ever leaves Voldemort's side for a single moment he's going to be dead by my wand, or by my teeth at his throat!

Snape shot a murderous glance of pure malice at Pettigrew, but Pettigrew was not looking his way, and probably wouldn't have seen it behind the mask anyway.

"Peter Pettigrew, my most faithful servant, you were the first to return to me. You aided in my rebirth. You have more than made up for your past...waywardness. I have generously decided to forgive you for your weakness and to promote you as a reward."

Voldemort shot an icy look at Snape, and Snape couldn't help giving an internal shudder. Did Voldemort now know that he had tipped off Dumbledore about the Potters? What had Pettigrew told him? It was so irritating and tiresome wondering where he stood, whom he could and could not trust, what to say to whom and how much. The Potions master was quite weary of always feeling as though he were balancing on the edge of a scalpel.

"You have sacrificed your hand, shed your blood, and endured great pain and hardship for me. So from this night forward you will be my new right hand," Voldemort announced, smiling warmly at Pettigrew as if he'd just adopted him as his son.

Snape at that point was very grateful for the mask which hid the combined shock, disappointment, and fear on his face, but he worried that his eyes might be an open book if anyone could see them.

Lucius Malfoy deliberately turned and gave Snape another barely noticeable nod, while Snape fumed. I guess it is pretty safe to assume where some of the "disturbing rumors" about me have been coming from, he thought. There will be dire consequences if I find proof that he is responsible for this.

"But enough of this idle chatter!" Voldemort boomed. "We have much work ahead of us, and we have little time in which to do it, because Bartemius Crouch was unmasked, questioned, and killed." There were gasps around the circle at that. Snape was the only other one who knew about Crouch's fate. "Albus Dumbledore and his old allies will understand the gravity of the situation, and they will begin moving against me with all haste. Therefore, we must move even more swiftly, and strike first before he begins cutting off our options.

"I am counting on each of you, my servants, to carry out your tasks as I assign them. Each of you have a place in my circle because of your proven loyalty, and your usefulness in your respective areas of influence and expertise. Therefore you will begin operating in those areas, and a few others, until such time as the current vacancies in the circle can be filled with new recruits."

Oh, I am breathless with anticipation milord, Snape thought acidly as a chorus of "yes Masters" and "Yes, my Lords" could be heard around the circle. Snape did not join the chorus, and no one noticed or cared. The stubborn silent routine went wherever Snape went, and he exercised it as frequently in Voldemort's presence as Dumbledore's, when he was fairly certain that he could get away with it.

"I myself will be sending a very clear message to the exiled giants in the north. My own personal signal, that I have returned."

By signal, Voldemort meant the Dark Mark, of course, the symbol of his power and terror. Voldemort and the Death Eaters sent the green snake and skull mark into the sky to claim as their work any lifeless bodies they left behind, or to call all of Voldemort's loyal followers to a place where they were holding a meeting. And if there were any giants left in the cold and frozen Siberian wilderness, they could not miss Voldemort's signal, not even if they were blind. Snape sincerely hoped Hagrid and Maxime would get to the giants first.

"Pettigrew, you will stay by my side and assist me when I need you," Voldemort said.
"Thank you, my lord," Pettigrew simpered, and Snape felt his blood begin to boil at that whining voice. "I will not let you down."

We'll see about that, Snape thought with pure malice, his thoughts already turning to the 101 ways he could kill the rat.

"Severus Snape!"

Snape started a bit as Voldemort's crimson gaze turned towards him. All thoughts about Pettigrew instantly fled as the potions teacher became more preoccupied with listening to Voldemort's instructions.

"You will see to it that our old allies in Transylvania are informed of my return. You are to remind them of my expectations, and warn them of the consequences if they ever fail me again."

Snape nodded silently. The vampires had at first sided willingly with Lord Voldemort last time. But later, when Snape secretly began helping Dumbledore, one of the things he did was to sow suspicion and mistrust between the humans and vampires in Voldemort's camp. No one ever found out about Snape's involvement in the dispute that led to the breakup of the circle, but the results had been most satisfactory. Just before Voldemort's fall, two thirds of the vampires had packed up and fled Voldemort's holdings and returned to the dark caves and forests in Transylvania and the other smaller, lesser- known colonies. The other third were either killed, driven into exile, or imprisoned in Azkaban after Voldemort disappeared. The circle of power quickly splintered into hopelessly divided and ineffective warring factions which the Ministry easily dispatched.

"Then you are to return to Hogwarts, learn their secrets and stratagems," Voldemort was saying. "I hold you responsible for obtaining every detail, no matter how insignificant, about their new defenses and whatever plans they may have of defying me. You will plumb their strengths and weaknesses and advise me how best to undermine their plans ... as you did in the past. Also, my servant, I want you to keep a close eye on Harry Potter. I have a plan for him, but it will take some time before I am ready to set that plan in motion. I would, of course, prefer to capture the boy alive and to have the pleasure of tending to his destruction personally ... but if he becomes a threat, destroy him. I trust your judgment on this matter. Do not give me cause to regret it."

"Yes, my master," Snape replied as humbly as possible. Why do I have the feeling that this is not going to go well for me, he thought.

"Also, if Igor Karkaroff shows up at Hogwarts, you are to kill him on sight," Voldemort said, his crimson eyes fixed onto Snape's black ones. "I do not forgive betrayal such as his, and I consider his destruction a high-level priority." Then Voldemort turned his gaze to the group as he raised his voice in a blood-curdling shout.

"All of you are to listen and look for signs of Igor Karkaroff's whereabouts, is that clear? I want his miserable carcass dragged before me soon, dead or alive! The reward for whoever brings him to me will be great. If he is not dead by the last day of July, however, there will be dire consequences for all of you. Is that understood?"

The chorus of humble assent resounded again from the throats of Voldemort's yes-wizards, and Snape curled a lip in disgust. Mindless sheep, he thought caustically.

"And one other thing, Severussss," Voldemort hissed, returning his gaze to the reluctant Death Eater. "Watch for potential recruits among the students. I will let you know when it is time to make a move to draw them into my grand army."

"Yes, my lord," Snape replied, hating how disgustingly meek he sounded. Baa, baa, Snape thought bitterly.

"Lucius Malfoy," Voldemort continued. "With your high position and fair public face, you are charged with gaining the confidence of Cornelius Fudge. Avoid using the Imperius unless you have no other choice. My enemies have developed a means of countering or at least detecting the presence of that curse, and it would be better for my control of the Ministry to remain more subtle and undetectable. I want them to vainly place their hopes in that fool of a minister for as long as possible, until you are ready to take over. Then you may do with him as you see fit. You also are charged with keeping an eye on the Weasley, Greggs and Diggory families and any others that might pose a problem. Find out about the defenses at Azkaban, and find out if the Dementors may be relied upon to serve me, as they did in the past. One of my first priorities is to free my loyal servants within."

"Yes, my lord," Malfoy replied with a nod.

"Avery and Nott," Voldemort continued. "You are to re-establish contact with our old friends in high places, beginning in Bulgaria. Karkaroff was once reliable and skilled in that capacity, but he has turned traitor and fled from my sign. Malfoy must remain where he is currently in the Ministry and keep up his benevolent appearances. Therefore I charge you two with dividing up and taking on Karkaroff's old duties.

"Now, then, Macnair, how are the creatures coming along? I know you have been busy the last four years preparing for the eventuality of my return, ever since you, Quirrell and I had that little chat...."

"Twenty dragons of assorted breeds, fifteen griffins, five chimeras, and three manticores are currently at your command my lord, and there are approximately equal numbers due either to complete their training or at least to reach full maturity in the next six months to a year."

"Excellent," crooned Voldemort. "And the ministry suspects nothing?"

"No, master," the Death Eater replied. "However, one of the secret training camps was discovered and raided during a crackdown two years ago."

"What a waste," the Dark Lord spat. "You should have been more careful."

"Yes, master. Tragic loss to be sure. However, the other projects are proceeding smoothly. Hogwarts' Queen of Serpents may have died an ignoble death, but at least she left behind a very useful legacy. The Ministry thinks my crew and I destroyed the eggs we discovered in the Chamber of Secrets. They could not be more wrong, of course. You will very shortly have a brood of basilisks at your command. And there is a ranch with some fifty hippogriffs in Arabia that I run in secret. I have a complete list of the quantities, types, breeds, and locations of all creatures currently at your disposal, if you wish to see it."

"Good," praised Voldemort, "Yes, I wish to see this list. We will discuss this further after the meeting."

"Very good my lord. I also have a list of quantities and types of useful hides, horns, hooves, teeth, claws, scales, and other products confiscated from creatures I was sent to exterminate over the last fifteen years. I think you will be most impressed at the quantity and quality of my stores."

"Excellent Macnair. You have done well for yourself in my absence."

"All that was mine is now yours my lord. I live to serve."

Spare me, thought Snape. Everyone here knows that you live to serve only yourself, but you're afraid of what his lordship will do to you if you try to keep anything back for yourself.

"And now let us begin the initiation ceremony for the two newest members of my army. I am creating new positions in the circle for these two, because this time, I intend to use many tools besides force and terror. Come forward, Rita Skeeter, mistress of bias, rumors, lies and propaganda."

Snape's eyes widened in alarm as he saw the reporter, dressed in black robes. Her purse and ubiquitous Quik Quotes quill were nowhere in sight, but the Potions master would bet that she had them close by. Skeeter strode eagerly towards Voldemort, a small, smug smile on her face.

Will she still be smiling after the ceremony? Snape thought with malicious amusement. For he had been through this ritual, and it was most unpleasant.

"Come to me Ludovic Bagman, errand-runner, panic fomenter, and chaos-spreader...."

Bagman?? Snape thought incredulously. Wasn't he on the run from the whole world's goblin population for gambling debts? What did the Dark Lord want with this pathetic fool?

The bonfire was suddenly snuffed out, seemingly by an invisible hand. The flames were replaced by a more sinister ring of sickly green light. It was as if the very ground had been defiled here and a great maw of destruction and corruption had opened up out of it and hungered for new victims. Even from his position in the ring of Death Eaters, Snape could feel the pulsating heat and power of this vile and evil ring, which encircled where the fire had been and shot several feet up towards the sky. It was whispered that this was the place where Tom Riddle had performed his first Lajskaii E'nhuruk ritual after killing his father and grandparents. Snape didn't doubt the rumor. Not only was it possible, but knowing Voldemort, it was entirely likely.

Voldemort stepped into the center of this ring, unfazed by the potent heat and defilement radiating from it. He himself seemed to give off a corrupt and sinister greenish aura, as though he and the ring were inseparable and indistinguishable.

"Come forward, my new servants," Voldemort purred, and the ground seemed to tremble at his voice. Perhaps it was only Snape's imagination fed by the still-potent mist of Necro-imperium incense, or perhaps even the ground here had submitted itself to the will of the Dark Lord. Funny he had never really paid much attention to the vile feeling of this place before, Snape reflected. Perhaps fifteen years of bitter reflection had awakened his senses to something he had once accepted as normal, and ignored.

No slave can truly loathe his enslavement until he has had a taste of freedom, he thought.

Rita Skeeter stepped forward first. She gasped audibly and bit her lip as the green light encircled her, and her face wrinkled with pain. She was obviously making every effort not to scream at the top of her lungs. Bagman trembled with fear and swallowed several times as he watched Skeeter suffering silently.

Voldemort stared malevolently at Bagman and held up a threatening hand.

Ludo got the message, and he reluctantly approached the Dark Lord as ordered, step by slow step. He was whimpering by the time he reached the wall of light. Snape saw Bagman squeeze his eyes shut as he stepped into the circle, heard the yelp of pain. Clearly this one was just barely Death Eater material, if at all. Why had Voldemort chosen him? Wasn't one Wormtail bad enough?

"Tsk, Bagman, you will not survive long as my servant if you are this weak," Voldemort sneered. "This is only the beginning."

Yes, it was, Snape thought. Only the beginning ... of many bitter regrets, you fool. You would have been better off falling into the clutches of the goblins. One day you will realize that ... if there is yet any hope for you.

Meanwhile, the new initiates appeared to be gasping for air. Voldemort held out a spidery, white hand to each of them, and they robotically took one hand each. The three suddenly seemed to be connected by another ring, this one a blood red that ran down both of Voldemort's arms and across the arms and backs of the two initiates.

All three of them levitated several feet into the air, as the hushed Death Eaters watched gleefully. There was a certain ... twisted pleasure in recalling the day they had each received the mark. Even Snape felt it ... revolting though it now seemed after his years of freedom from its power.

"You have crossed the barrier to join me. You have left the light and joined with the darkness." Voldemort said, his voice thundering around the circle. The three of them started to rotate slowly. "Now ... Suzkehk'ha, khe'lajkeoten!"

Skeeter and Bagman looked at Voldemort, almost hypnotically.

"You shall forevermore be bound to me by the Dark Mark," Voldemort intoned. He moved his hands from their grasp and wrapped his fingers firmly around their left arms. "Vnee iick schenten zuklihn! Peeritahk'dur, eskii rievek nohtle xexcriat hai ...."

Snape shuddered a little as he heard those strange words. He had heard them repeated many times in the past, of course, when Voldemort was in power before. He had no idea what they meant, and he did not think that he wanted to know. They were part of some ancient black spell language, more ancient than Voldemort, more ancient than Hogwarts, perhaps as ancient as the earth itself.

The initiates' left forearms started to glow red, and Bagman once again cried out in agony. Skeeter clenched her jaw against the pain and swallowed several times. That arrogant smirk of hers from earlier was now long gone, but she was taking it rather well, considering. This was the worst part, Snape remembered, the burning of the mark. And the physical pain was only the smallest part of the torment of this moment.

"Thuene'lahz knhene'lajkeot! Thu'liet uniiverhn complis ohnii! Uniivr'ohniihan!"

"We belong to you," Skeeter and Bagman intoned. "We belong to the circle. We are one."

The trio slowly lowered back onto the ground, and the green wall of light vanished.

"Welcome, Rita Skeeter and Ludovic Bagman," Voldemort purred. "You are now bound to me. Now and forever.
"Welcome to your new life."

Welcome to hell, Snape thought bitterly.

The circle began to break up as some of the Death Eaters moved to welcome and congratulate their two newest members, while others approached Lord Voldemort to discuss plans for the future. Macnair seemed especially eager to present Voldemort with several scrolls' worth of information on his personal stash of illegal creatures and goods. Malfoy, interestingly enough was hanging back, studying the group with crossed arms and a stiff, angry stance. He was obviously not happy that his Lordship had returned, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. Malfoy had grown used to his independence and freedom from Voldemort's control, and had developed ambitions of his own ... ambitions that would now have to be put on hold.

Both of the new initiates looked pale. Rita clenched her jaw and strode forward bravely to take her place among her new colleagues, but Bagman went off by himself, to nurse his wounds. Snape couldn't resist the impulse to entertain himself at Bagman's expense, and he followed the whimpering Bagman.

"So, how much was your soul worth, Bagman?" Snape asked with a sneer, sidling over to the new initiate and deliberately rubbing salt into his sore arm. "Last I heard you were in debt to the goblins some twenty thousand galleons?" Bagman actually had tears in his eyes, Snape noticed to his complete and thorough disgust.

What a wimp, Snape thought contemptuously. Sure, it hurts like the devil, but you ought not to cry about it like an infant! Save your tears, you fool! Save them for the more painful things you will experience long after your skin has grown accustomed to the touch of his malice.

"Hey, I know you!" Bagman exclaimed, cradling his freshly marked arm. "You're that teacher I met at Hogwarts. Snape, isn't it? What on earth are you doing here? I thought you were one of Dumbledore's people!"

"I have never forgotten where my loyalties lie," Snape replied with a cold laugh. "And you had better never forget where yours lie now that you are indebted to the Dark Lord for bailing you out. Otherwise..." he stepped closer and lowered his mask to Bagman's unmasked face, so that they were eyeball to eyeball. "Otherwise you may wake up and find my teeth at your throat one day," he whispered menacingly. "Do we have an understanding?"

Bagman's head nodded in a quick blur of motion. "Yes sir, Mr. ... uh ... Professor Snape, sir! Not a peep to Dumbledore or anyone at Hogwarts about this! Gotcha!"

The Potions master rose back to his full height and towered over the frightened Bagman for a moment, then he sniffed condescendingly and strode away into the shadows as silent as a wraith. Either he is as good at acting as I am, or Voldemort is desperate for recruits these days, Snape thought with a scowl. But after Quirrell, I wouldn't bet on the latter. What are you planning, your Vile Eminence, Snape wondered, shooting a glance toward Voldemort and Pettigrew, who were now chatting quietly with Macnair and Avery. Why is that idiot worth twenty thousand galleons to you?

And why am I suddenly out of the loop?


There was a quiet but firm knock on the office door. Snape stopped pacing for a moment and snarled testily, "Is that you, Albus?"

"Yes, may I come in, Severus?" came the mild reply.

Snape went back to pacing, thought for a few moments. "All right," he assented at last, pulling his wand out and commanding the door to open with a quick Alohomora.

Dumbledore strode in wearily, his years seeming to lie more heavily on him tonight than usual, Snape noted. Then again, the same could be said for all of them since Voldemort's return. The strain of fear, preparation, and secrecy ... and dread for the future was beginning to have an effect on all of the members of Dumbledore's inner circle, especially Dumbledore, and Snape himself.

"So, have you come down from your cluttered office because you were getting dizzy watching me walk in circles in your little scrying basin, or did you just happen to be in the neighborhood?" the potions teacher greeted acidly.

"I made it a point to come directly here for a visit after I located you. We have not exchanged more than a dozen words in over a week," Dumbledore stated, studying Snape with grave concern. "Quite frankly, I'm worried about you."

"Oh, really?" Snape replied venomously. "And why ever would you be worried about me? I can't imagine! Surely it has nothing to do with the fact that I will most likely get myself killed one of these nights fetching precious information for your little war!"

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the tone and harshness of Snape's words, but he said nothing for a few moments, merely stroked his beard and watched as Snape began pacing again.

"Severus, you haven't been yourself for several weeks now," Dumbledore finally observed mildly. "You've only been pretending to be yourself. Do not think for one moment that I have not noticed the difference. That is why I am worried, and that is why I am here. What is going on?"

Snape whirled furiously, his eyes flashing with anger. "Nothing is going on you nosy old mother hen! I'm fine! Do you hear me? I'm fine! No go away and tend to your war, and let me handle my life by myself. I don't need or want your interference. Do you hear me?"

Dumbledore watched as Snape absent-mindedly scratched at his left arm, the arm with the mark. Putting two and two together Dumbledore turned a penetrating gaze on the Potions master and said gently, "Then what is all this pacing about? You are not this restless without good cause. Is it the Mark? Is he calling you right now?"

Snape looked ready to boil over into rage, his breath quick, angry, harsh, his eyes narrowed slits of fury.

If Dumbledore had been worried when he had first walked in, he was doubly so now. "Am I losing you, Severus? Are you going over to them?"

The Potions master turned on his heel and stomped away toward his unlit fireplace. It was too early in the year for the necessity of a fire even in his chill domain, but Snape rarely used the fireplace even when it was bitter cold outside. He rested his arms on the cold mantel and faced the stone wall, then stuck his chin on his right arm, the arm without Voldemort's stamp of ownership.

Dumbledore waited patiently for an answer. It took several moments for the agitated Potions master to calm down. "Yes, to the first question," Snape said quietly, his breath slower, more normal now.

"And you do not want to go tonight, is that it?" Dumbledore queried.

"Yes ... and no." Snape replied, his back still to Dumbledore, his face to the cold stone wall.

"And my second question?" Dumbledore prodded.

"I do not know," Snape replied in almost a whisper after several long moments of silence.

"Has something happened? Are you in trouble? Talk to me. We used to be able to talk..." Dumbledore said in a hurt tone.

"I do not wish to talk anymore," Snape replied bitterly, lowering his head and resting his forehead against the mantel. "I am tired of talking. It does not do any good. I'm in this too deep, and I can't do it anymore. I can't keep holding the pieces together! I can't keep walking this line or I am going to fall, and right now I do not know which side I will fall on!"

"Then do not go tonight. Do not go back to him, Severus. Stay at Hogwarts where he cannot get to you, where you will be protected, safe."

"Nowhere is safe! I have to go!" the Potions master snapped angrily, "He will be furious with me if I miss a meeting!" He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and turned back to face the headmaster.

"He may have some hold on you, but he doesn't own you. Don't let him convince you that he does, because it's a lie!" Dumbledore said fiercely, his white-hot aura of power flaring momentarily around him at the emotion and forcefulness of his statement.

Snape snorted, crossed his arms, said nothing in reply.

"Don't go tonight, Severus," Dumbledore pleaded. "Do whatever you need to do to stay here, but do not go to him tonight. I will announce at breakfast tomorrow that you are ill and that your classes are canceled. I will enlist Poppy's assistance in the charade, and I will go about looking worried and concerned. Heaven knows, that part will be sincere enough. I know that Voldemort has spies among the students, and that they'll take the news to him."

Snape shifted his weight from one foot to the other, closed his eyes in silent conflict.

"All right," he said at last in a voice barely above a whisper. "Agreed. I will stay. Do whatever you think is best to provide a cover story for my absence tonight. But Albus...."

"Yes?" the headmaster said, taking a step toward Snape and making a motion as if to lay a hand on his shoulder.

Snape recoiled and snapped testily, "Touch me tonight and you will regret it, Albus. I mean it."

Dumbledore's eyes widened with surprise and hurt as he took a hasty step backward.

"There will be other summons after this one. And I must either go or risk jeopardizing my standing with them. The time is quickly approaching when I may no longer be able to play this game. I will have to choose if the choice is not already made for me by then."

Snape sighed, then concluded, "I ... give you my word, Albus ... and you know that my word can still be trusted, at least for a while, even if I leave your service. I will let you know where I stand...when the time comes."

****


Deveroux, after finishing her task of grading her students' essays, headed to her chambers, located in the magically hidden Teachers' Wing. This was one of the few areas students were forbidden from entering, and even the Weasley twins knew nothing about this secret wing. The professors -- with the exceptions of Hagrid, who had his cabin just outside the castle, Filch, and Snape, who never seemed to leave his dungeon (unless, of course, he was spying on her!) -- each had their own quarters in this wing. The rooms there were the professor's strictly private territory, their homes during the school year.

Deveroux's chamber was decorated much like her office -- filled with plants, Shimmer lamps and cut crystal hanging from the window. Trophies ... mostly Luk's, some hers, decorated the two cherry wood bookshelves which stretched from the floor to the eight-foot high ceiling, the windowsill in the back of the room and on the fireplace mantle. A few of the shelves were lined with pictures of herself with Luk or Remus. There were two pictures of her parents, Jeorges and Marie Deveroux, and one or two favorite candid college snapshots. A small fire crackled merrily in the fireplace on the right wall.

But as she started heading to her small bedroom on the far left corner, a separate room from the larger living room area, she was startled by a tapping on her window. She peered outside, and recognized the heart-shaped, feathered face of Gremlin. Lupin had already sent a reply!

Delightedly, she threw open the window to let the owl in. Gremlin flew in and landed at the edge of a two-tiered table, and stood next to a non-moving picture of Deveroux and Luk hugging, the Atlantic Ocean in the background, taken two months before his death.

She offered Gremlin a dish of water, which he lapped up gratefully. She carefully removed the parchment paper from the owl's leg and read the letter in anticipation.

"Poor Ari! Sound like you've had a rough couple of weeks!"

Deveroux thought with a smile that she could almost hear Remus' sympathetic tone coming through the written words. She read on.

"Don't worry too much about the other professors. McGonagall seems stern, but she has a good heart. I'm sure she's probably over the incident already. She's not one to hold a grudge. Ask her to help you with your Transfiguration work -- I know you were struggling with that a bit! There is nothing a dedicated teacher like her enjoys more than teaching a willing student. If you casually slip in your opinion about Divinations, you'll have a staunch ally: Minerva and Sybill have never seen eye to eye. And don't worry about Trelawney - she has surprisingly thick skin, and no one takes her very seriously anyway.
"Professor Flitwick is a dear soul, and tougher than he looks. I'm sure he's gotten over the shock of you voicing your 'radical' Yankee ideas by now. Ask him about his days as a champion dueler (he excelled at dueling in his youth!) and you'll win him over completely. Just make sure you have a couple of hours to dedicate to this, because that's how long it will take for him to describe all of his youthful derring-dos!
"Professor Sprout might be a bit tougher, but stop by her greenhouse sometime and inquire about your plant. Coax her into giving you some tips of the trade -- and unless I miss my guess, it won't take much coaxing. Hyacinth is another 'dedicated teacher.'
"Hagrid is a good man, although I agree with your assessment about his 'pets.' I've never seen Fluffy and have no desire to. Sirius told me "Blast-End Skrewts" were something Hagrid created for the Tri-Wizard contest last year. Nasty brutes -- I guess Madam Pomfrey had to treat more than a few burns because of them.
"As for Snape, you are on your own there! The only word of encouragement I can give is that if he's only condescending towards you, then at least he probably doesn't hate you, because he's like that with everybody, even his pet students. This is good to know, considering the second reason why you are at Hogwarts.
"I'm greatly puzzled about him watching your classes, although I'm not as ready to jump to the same 'spy' conclusion that your students have. I never had that problem -- he always tried to avoid me when possible. Perhaps he has a secret crush on you, and doesn't want to admit it? That should really make your 'second job' easy -- you won't have to Watch him very closely if he's making such an effort to 'Watch' you ... ha ha.
"Just kidding, luv. Seriously, I can't imagine Severus loving anything besides gaining power, and maybe getting back at You-Know-Who (no, I don't mean Potter) someday. I'm not even sure he likes himself all that much. Although as a younger lad, he had a reputation for being a sucker for a pretty face." [Lupin, you are incorrigible sometimes! Deveroux thought, and she shook her head in amusement] "Most of the girls wouldn't give him the time of day when he approached them, and the few who did always wound up decking him for ... well, various things. Mostly for being a creep. I remember hearing that Dumbledore jumped on his case a few times for brewing up love potions just so he could coerce girls into going to the school dances with him. Heh. So if you do wind up trying to choke him, take some comfort in the fact that you will be far from the first!
"Don't forget to send a note to your parents soon. Send anything you want mailed to them via one of the school owls to me, and I'll make sure it gets to the Muggle post. If you need stamps let me know. I'd rather not do any personal deliveries -- you know the judge and I don't exactly get along [Boy, is that an understatement! Aurellia thought ruefully] and I don't think he'd enjoy seeing me at his doorstep, even if it were for your sake.
"And hang in there, Ari! You'll do fine! Things will get better ... Love Remus."

Deveroux neatly folded both notes from Lupin and put them in a safe box on one of her shelves.

My dear "big brother," she thought with affection. I knew I could count on you for support. She turned to face the sleepy-looking Gremlin.

"No more notes for tonight," she told the barn owl. She gently kissed the owl on top of its head, and Gremlin took to the air again. He circled her office once, then flew out the window. The barn owl soon disappeared into the night sky.

Author’s note: The first line "How many will be brave enough to come when they feel it...?" is from "Goblet of Fire."

The Great Snape-Deveroux Grudge Match - Part I: The Parvenu vs. The Potions Master by Pigwidgeon [Reviews - 3]

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