"Now class, who can tell me what would happen if a herd of roan, horned cattle were to cross over to a low field with heather and thyme at sundown?"

"Will ye go, lassie go ..." Seamus sang softly, and the others fought not to laugh as he continued a few bars of "Wild Mountain Thyme."

"Let's see," Dean whispered to his comrades. "It means Farmer Brown left the gate open again."

The laughter was getting harder to control. "Nah, too easy," Seamus said. "It means that ..." he thought for a moment. "It means that one of cows was an Animagus, and wanted a change of scenery ... and the others followed."

"No way," Harry said as he tried to stifle his mirth. "It means that this class will make sense when the cows come home, but when they've wandered that far off track ..." The others started sniggering uncontrollably.

"Nuh uh. Still too mundane," Ron said, then whispered an imitation of the Divinations Teacher, "if a herd of roan, horned cattle were to cross over to a low field with heather and thyme at sundown, then the oceans will part, dark clouds will roll overhead and drop little spotted fanged frogs, lightning will flash, traffic will come to a standstill, and Snape will be socked with a happy charm and be a nice wizard forevermore and give Gryffindor 200 points, and take away 500 points from Slytherin."

That last line made the group lose it entirely. They were laughing out loud, attracting disgusted looks from Parvati, Lavender and Trelawney.

"Imagine Snape ... giving Gryffindor points!" Dean gasped out.

"Do not scoff," the Divinations teacher called out. "Severus Snape ... Severus Snape..." and she gazed just above her enormous crystal ball.

Harry's skin began to crawl. This was the way she started to look the last time when she went into her fugue, when she correctly predicted the return of Voldemort.

"Severus Snape," Trelawney continued, dreamily, "Will be pardoned, and in his true love find forgiveness." Her eyes started rolling, and her tone became more harsh with the next few lines. "But when this comes to pass, Hogwarts as we know it will cease to exist and a new era of fear will begin, for nowhere will be safe. The Dark Lord will attack all the high places, and be victorious in all save one because of the traitor in the ranks.
"In the last great battle the dark forces will be driven back and scattered with the aid of the last remnant of an ancient light. But evil will regroup after this defeat, as it did in ancient days, and hope will be extinguished anew if the Dark Lord's heir is not turned to the light in time. And a new generation will be lost in darkness... just as he is.

"Do you know who you are? Do you know who you are? The third time you have answered this question you will finally be ready for the battle that lies ahead, child of darkness and light. Remember your promise on the day of reckoning, for if you cast your life away before the final confrontation, then there will be no hope of preventing the cycle of darkness from beginning all over again. The key to your soul is the key to lasting peace, but the fate of the future will not rest on your decision alone."

By now, several of the students were panicking. The end of Hogwarts? The Dark Lord attacking? You-Know-Who's heir? Cycle of darkness? And who was the child of darkness and light? Several students, notably Parvati and Lavender, shot curious, fearful looks at Harry, who tried to ignore the stares.

"It figures," Ron whispered to Harry, half joking, but he was creeped. "Snape falls in love, and the world comes to an end. Wonderful. Why am I not surprised?"

"Well, maybe we are safe," Harry whispered back. "I mean, who would he fall in love with? And who would love him back? Can you even imagine ...?"

"Ummm... let's not go there," Ron replied, reassured a little. But the whole experience left him with goosebumps. "I'm already nauseated by the overpowering odor of incense."

Trelawney suddenly seemed to come back to the present.

"Oh my," she said, startled. "Did I fall asleep? What happened? What were we talking about?"

"We were talking about ... cows," Neville managed to croak out.

"And the end of the world ..." Seamus muttered.

"Shhh..." the others hissed, warningly, but Trelawney had already returned to discussing bovine behavior, and how cows could be used to predict their future, as if nothing had happened.

****

"OK, admit it!" Dean hollered at Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who were trying to ignore them. Everyone was on their way to the Great Hall for lunch, and Ron, Dean and Seamus were having a ball teasing the two girls, who were devout supporters of Trelawney.

"Admit what?" Lavender said loftily, but her expression was uncertain. "If Professor Trelawney says Snape will fall in love, then it will happen."

This statement brought more hoots and jeers from the other Gryffindors who had just been in the class. Parvati and Lavender ducked their heads and practically ran into the Great Hall, shoving passed the heckling gauntlet of their peers. Only Harry stood aside, lost in thought.

"Oh man," Ron said, chortling. "I don't see how they can take Trelawney seriously now. Who would that greasy-haired git fall for? And who would fall for him?"

"What's going on?" Hermione said. She was getting out of Arithmancy, and was now rejoining the rest of her classmates.

In fractured spurts, the rest of the Gryffindors told Hermione of Trelawney's class. By the time they were finished, Hermione had tears streaming down her cheeks from laughing so hard.

"Can you just imagine?" Hermione gasped. "I mean, who would go for him, a hag?"

"Maybe a banshee?" Seamus said.

"Or a warthog."

"Maybe a troll."

"Or a vampire."

"Or a wraith. Similar personalities there."

"Or, maybe he has his eye on the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dean said, giving Ron a poke in the ribs.

"He had better NOT!" Ron lashed out. "She's too good for that ...."

Hermione suddenly clasped a hand over Ron's mouth, and looked over his head in horror. For Snape seemed to suddenly appear out of nowhere, and was fixing the group of students with an icy gaze.

"If you do not have better things to do than stand around and gossip, then I am sure I can fill your free time with other useful chores, such as washing out the hospital bedpans, or cleaning the trophy room, polishing the cauldrons, cleaning the bathrooms or raking out the animal stalls. Shall I do that, so your lives are more ... productive?"

The students shook their heads "no" in unison.

"Then get inside. Now!" Snape hissed.

The Gryffindor students couldn't move fast enough into the Great Hall to escape Snape's black gaze. But once inside, Harry pulled Ron and Hermione aside.

"Listen," he whispered, and he looked out the door to see the swirl of a black cape disappearing around the corner. "I know everyone else thinks what Professor Trelawney said was a bunch of rot, and, well, given the prediction she made, I suppose I sort of agree. But the way she said it ---" He reminded them about what happened two years ago, when he saw the Divinations professor go into a fugue state, and what she predicted.

"Harry, stop! You are creeping me out," Ron replied after Harry had finished.

Hermione looked skeptical, but only slightly. "Well, she got lucky. It was bound to happen. You throw enough hexed darts at a target, one of them will eventually hit something."

"You know," Ron said. "Did Dumbledore tell you what the first prophecy was? Did it come true?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know," he replied. "But after lunch, I'm going to see if I can find the headmaster. He did ask me to let him know if this happened again."

****

Harry didn't need to seek out the headmaster after lunch, however. Dumbledore found him.

"Harry," Dumbledore called from behind just as Harry had left the Great Hall and was turning to go down the hall. Harry turned, and Dumbledore smiled on the teen. "My dear boy. I heard there was a rather ... interesting incident in your Divinations class. Do you have a moment?"

Harry nodded. "Actually, sir, I was looking for you. To tell you about it. But it looks like the news reached you before I could."

Dumbledore nodded approvingly and without another word headed towards his office, Harry close behind.

"Canary Cremes," Dumbledore said when they reached the statue that stood in front of the entrance to his office. Harry stifled a laugh. Canary Cremes were a Weasley Wizard Wheezes item that momentarily turned anyone who consumed them into a fluttering, yellow canary. The statue moved aside, and they walked in, and Harry heard the statue swing shut behind them.

They both sat down. Harry looked around Dumbledore's office, always a curiosity no matter how many times he had been up there already. The pictures of the former headmasters, who were talking quietly amongst themselves. The cabinet full of books, and the pensieve he had seen a year ago. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, was napping on his perch.

"Now, what happened?" Dumbledore asked. "Did Professor Trelawney make another true prophecy?"

Harry shrugged. "I ... think so. She went into that same fugue state, and her voice was funny, harsh. But ...." Harry stopped and bit his lower lip, trying to figure out the most polite yet honest way to put his opinion of Trelawney's prediction to the headmaster.

"Well, what did she say?"

Harry told Dumbledore the prophecy word for word, having remembered it quite clearly. Dumbledore sat for several minutes, lost in thought, his expression worried after Harry had finished.

"Interesting," the headmaster said at last, breaking the silence. "Interesting that she should make two of these predictions within less than two years. And yes, I believe that this is a true prophecy. I know you are skeptical, and I don't need to guess why. But this prophecy ... it ties in with the first one."

"What ... what was Trelawney's first prophecy?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore regarded Harry for a moment before speaking. "The first prophecy was made four years before you were born, before Voldemort reached the peak of his power. It concerned Voldemort ... and it concerned you. I did not realize it at the time, but she had predicted that you would bring about Voldemort's downfall."

"But this prophecy is a little more vague then the last one I heard," Harry said. "Last time she said that the servant would rejoin the master, and she was obviously referring to Peter Pettigrew. But this time, the only thing she said that made any sense to all of us was what she said about Sn...Professor Snape. The rest didn't make any sense at all. For example, who is Voldemort's heir? Was she talking about me? And who is the child of darkness and light, and why do they have to answer the same question three times? And what did she mean by the last remnant of an ancient light?"

Dumbledore smiled, and his eyes twinkled merrily. "Oh, I think I may know what she is referring to on that last one, but more than that, I cannot say. As for the rest, I can only speculate."

"Do you ... do you think this prophecy means Hogwarts might ..." Harry stopped, unable to continue the thought.

Dumbledore looked away, the laughter gone from his light blue eyes. "I'm not sure, Harry. I'm not sure. I know Hogwarts will be changed over the next few months, but you don't need a prophet to see that. With everything that has happened, and could happen ... the school can't help but change. Change, my boy, is the only thing we can rely on to be consistent."

"Well, look what has to happen first," Harry said cattily, then wished he hadn't. It was generally not wise to speak ill of other professors in front of the headmaster, even when the headmaster was more than inclined to agree. He hoped that Dumbledore would not be angry with him for being a little too open in his contempt for Snape.

But Dumbledore merely looked back at the teen and smiled. "You never know what strange powers can move the heart. Love is a funny thing, striking at the strangest, most bizarre and unexpected moments, on even the most unlikely candidates."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Do you know something that I don't, sir?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I most certainly do. I know many things you don't know, due to the benefit of my senior years. But when you get to be my age, you will know things that I never knew ... and some things you wish you didn't know."

Dumbledore sighed, and Harry had a feeling the conversation was over. He got up to leave.

"Thank you for telling me this Harry," Dumbledore said. "And don't forget ... impossible things sometimes happen."

"Yes sir," Harry said uncertainly, and he headed quietly out the door.

After Harry left, Dumbledore rose from his chair and retrieved his penseive from his cabinet. He placed the pensieve onto his desk and started adding the memory of this latest prophecy to his collection. Then he stared into the pensieve, wanting to pull the memory of the first prophecy. He needed to review it, to check it. And the pensieve, picking up on his desire showed him what he wished to see.

Dumbledore himself had heard the first prophecy, a year after the Divinations teacher had started at Hogwarts. He had made the journey up to her classroom in the east tower to join her for tea (with a tea-leaf reading afterwards, of course!), when she suddenly froze ... and began to speak, her voice strange, harsh:

"The youngest of the marked ones shall break faith, and shall serve both light and dark, yet belong to neither," a voice from the pensieve whispered. Trelawney's face could be seen within the strange silvery liquid in the pensieve, her expression trance-like. "For his is a dual nature; and he will ever be divided against himself.

"The Dark Lord shall be felled by a newborn star, a lightning bolt escaping from the cloud of death and war. After 10 years have passed, that star shall emerge from a hidden place and shine for all to see.

"When the ashes of the Ancient Evil One's defeat kindle a new bonfire of his rage, he who forsook the darkness shall be bound for a time, and he shall be made to choose whether to be counted as servant of darkness or light. And his choice shall shatter the age-old cycle of evil, or doom all life to a new darkness. Either the Dark Lord's heir or the Child of Light will be doomed by his choice."

After he listened to the prophecy, he put the pensieve away and went back to his chair, lost in thought. Dumbledore hadn't understood much of it then. But after the rise of Voldemort, and as the years wore on, the prophecy became ever clearer. And this prophecy fell into the category of things that he wished he knew nothing about.

****

Snape Apparated and took a look around the Riddle property. He did a quick head-count as usual. Thirty-two so far and more arriving. They'd lost a few tonight. Snape had no idea how many, and wouldn't know until Voldemort told the group later when he went into his inevitable fit of rage about the casualties. The battle had been a disaster for the Death Eaters. Of that much Snape was certain.

The attack was supposed to have been a complete surprise. The Death Eaters should have been able, at the very least, to set most of the prisoners free, maybe even capture the fortress tonight, with the help of the Dementors. But nothing had gone according to plan.

To begin with, the Ministry had been expecting them. When the Death Eaters had flown in on their brooms and hippogriffs, accompanied by dragons, wyverns, vampire bats, and other assorted flying beasts, it was the prison defenders who attacked first. The defenders had been ready and waiting for them, and some of the attackers had been blown out of the sky before they ever had a chance to spew a single blast of flame or cast a single spell. Furthermore, the prison guards had all armed their crossbows with very expensive, but lethally effective magical bolts, such as broom-burning firebolts, ear-piercing screamers, armor-piercing manticore stingers, and the most dreaded ammunition of all, the "bludger bolt". (Bludger bolts were so-called because they were made of enchanted steel, were invulnerable to most elemental spells, could easily pierce most light armor, and they homed in on their targets and attacked relentlessly until they'd scored a hit.) The caliber of spells and ammunition unleashed on the Death Eaters and escorting creatures tonight was definitely not standard-issue, and smacked of a set-up. Also, there had been at least sixty Aurors among the defenders on the ground. The flaming swords were a give-away. All Aurors carried them. Azkaban was usually patrolled by ten, not sixty Aurors. There had also been Aurors and dragon-slayers riding brooms, dragons, hippogriffs, and winged horses, forcing the attackers to divide their attention between ground and aerial threats.

To make matters worse, the Dementors had not done their part to distract Azkaban's ground-based defenders. They had silently watched the conflict, but they had done nothing to help Voldemort's forces. Thus Azkaban's defenders were able to give the invasion force their full attention. It would have been a total massacre had Voldemort not reluctantly given the order to retreat. As it was, the Death Eaters had taken a very severe beating.

And tonight's disaster was mostly Snape's fault. He had warned Dumbledore and Hyran about the attack, had told them the numbers and types of creatures to expect, what spells, weapons, and armor the Death Eaters would most likely be using, the most likely avenues of attack once the Death Eaters Apperated or flew in. In short, he had betrayed one set of friends in order to help the other, and it was at times like this when Snape quite thoroughly hated his life. More so than usual. The idea of being a double-agent might seem glamorous, but the reality of it.…

The reality of it was a never-ending nightmare.

Snape sighed and painfully limped over to take his place in the circle. He'd taken a bludger bolt through his left calf, but miraculously the arrow had missed the bone. The bleeding had mostly stopped by now, but the wound still throbbed, and walking was painful. He was extremely fortunate that the arrow hadn't been tipped with a manticore sting or coated with a nasty, fast-acting poison. He also had a nasty slash across the back from a very close encounter with the flaming sword of one of the hippogriff riders. If he hadn't whispered the password to the Auror who'd knocked the wand out of his hand and cut him, he would probably be shark food floating on the chill and pitiless waves of the North Sea right now. As it was, he had barely had time to summon the dropped wand back to his hand before he saw the second bludger bolt heading his way.

Black Phoenix indeed, Snape thought with a snort. If I don't get back into the habit of practicing aerial combat every night after teaching, it will take more than a password the next time to keep me from meeting a fate similar to Sir Nick's. I fought as poorly as an apprentice tonight. I hope his Vile Eminence was too distracted to notice.

Snape was dismayed to discover that even with the losses from tonight's battle, the circle was still growing in size with every meeting. So was Voldemort's power. The battle at Azkaban may have been a failure, but that wouldn't stop the Dark Lord from trying again later, when he'd recovered from this devastating set-back. And in the meantime Voldemort was going to be very suspicious of his own, unless Snape could find a way to talk him into believing that he'd merely timed the attack badly. Otherwise.…

Otherwise there would be more casualties tonight.

The Death Eaters were complaining about the battle in small scattered groups as they waited for everyone to arrive or to finish tending to their injuries, and they were beginning to grow impatient for Voldemort to begin the meeting. Snape listened intently, attempting to tune in to individual voices and conversations. Behind him he picked up the sneering voices of the Lestranges dazzling a small group of newcomers with tales of their cruel and evil deeds that had landed them in Azkaban. And somewhere off in the shadows Merlin Mulciber was complaining rather loudly that the Death Eaters hadn't taken any captives for him to torture. Hmm ... so the attack hadn't been a total waste, Snape thought. Apparently the Dementors had taken advantage of the confusion during the attack and let some of the prisoners slip away in the chaos. Snape had not heard this part of the plan as he had been in the main assault force, the diversionary force, as it appeared. So ... perhaps Voldemort hadn't intended to take Azkaban yet, merely spring some of his more powerful and loyal followers? And while he was at it, he may as well give his enemies a false sense of security by letting them win the first skirmish?

Snape grew worried as the implications of this began to sink in. Voldemort had never been capable of this kind of clever, manipulative deception before, and he had never kept this kind of information from the circle in the old days. Did the Dark Lord already suspect a traitor in his ranks prior to the battle? Would he enlist the loyal newly-freed Azkaban endurers to help root out the spy? Were the Potions teacher's days numbered?

There, a few yards away, a completely unscathed Malfoy was whispering something about their attack having been expected, about someone having tipped off the Ministry. Snape limped over and butted into the conversation without preamble. "Yes, and that someone must have been a real dunderhead with a very big mouth and a very small brain, to think that they could get away with it, now that the Dark Lord is already suspicious. Maybe it was you, Lucius, since you certainly fit the bill. What do you think, shall we share a little drink of Veritaserum and chat about ... old times?"

Malfoy glared at Snape through his mask and became silent. Voldemort did not know even half of what the Malfoys had said to the winning side about him in his absence. And if he ever found out, Lucius would have a great deal of explaining to do. It was nice having a few wands to hold over Malfoy's head to shut him up once in a while, Snape thought with a malicious grin.

But the presence of the Lestranges worried him. They had gone to Azkaban for Voldemort. They were ultra-loyal, cruel, ambitious, intelligent, and manipulative. They knew how to play the game, what to say to whom, and when to keep their mouths shut. Snape didn't have any dirt on them where Voldemort was concerned, and likely never would. And if anyone had reason to hate and resent Snape and Malfoy and some of the other Death Eaters for their years of freedom, Louis and Carlotta most certainly did.

Voldemort ignited the bonfire with a wave of his hand, and all conversation quickly ground to a halt. The groups broke up and the circle began to form. Snape sighed to himself and took his place among the now fifty or so assembled. I hate this, Snape thought bitterly, shuddering a little with mixed anticipation and dread. I like this too much.

"Hail Lord Voldemort, our leader and master! Hail Lord Voldemort reborn!" shouted the Death Eaters.

Snape repeated his lines with as much false enthusiasm as he could muster and tried not to think about how much he was missing the good old days before Harry Potter's enrollment at Hogwarts and Voldemort's return. Not so long ago he had been just a teacher with a checkered past who had a grudge against just about everyone who crossed his path, but did nothing much about it other than to grumble and sulk and look intimidating. Now he wore a disguise everywhere he went, chose every word with fear and caution, and he wondered how much longer it would be before he was killed or at the very least, driven mad.

"Vukulaktah'eh khe'zorannonos. Thue'lazh khezemak!" Voldemort chanted as he tossed the powder into the flames.

We got lucky the last time, but at a terrible price, Snape thought gloomily. And now he has come back stronger than ever. How can we possibly stand a chance of defeating him again ... permanently?

When the Necro-imperium cloud rolled out, the gathering began to take a decidedly darker turn from all the others Snape had been to since Voldemort's return. The fire was not comforting this time, nor was it anything close to pleasant. It was harsh, painful, cruel.

"There is the stench of guilt here tonight! One of you has betrayed us!" Voldemort shouted, and a frightened hush fell on the group. Snape could hear a Death Eater gasp clear on the other side of the circle over the crackling bonfire. Voldemort apparently heard it too, and he whirled on the lackey in question. "Step forward, Elias Emmerson, and repent, and perhaps I will be lenient and let you live," Voldemort invited.

The Death Eater hesitated out of fear, and it was his undoing. Voldemort raised his fist and muttered a word of command, and the young fool finally obeyed. He had no choice, of course. No one resisted the power of Lord Voldemort. Especially not the souls who bore his Mark. The Dark Lord turned his wand toward the trembling Death Eater and asked icily, "Are you the one who betrayed me? Did you tell the Ministry I was planning to attack Azkaban tonight?"

"N...no my lord," the Death Eater stuttered in terror.

"You lie!" screamed Voldemort, and many cloaked figures around the circle shivered.

"Please, my lord," the young Death Eater wailed, "Have mercy! I warned my father not to go to work this week because he is one of the guards, but I did not tell anyone else!"

"Young fool!" sneered the dark lord. "You were the source of our difficulties tonight! Your father obviously went to the Ministry...."

"No! I did not tell him why he wasn't to go...."

"Silence! Your loyalty is obviously to your father, not to me. And I do not tolerate divided loyalties." He raised the wand, and roared out the death curse, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

A brilliant green light shot forth from Voldemort's wand and enveloped the Death Eater, and he fell without a sound. He was dead before his body hit the ground with a soft thump.

Snape felt sick. That could very easily have been me, he thought fearfully.

Voldemort whirled, wand raised. "Does anyone else have anything they wish to confessss?" he hissed.

A tense and palpable silence fell upon the assembled black-robed wizards, as Voldemort eyed each of them individually with anger and suspicion.

Snape closed his eyes and willed the fear away as the Dark Lord's gaze swept past. The fire was less painful now, barely a twinge. And Voldemort's anger suddenly seemed very far away, as if muted by a dense fog. It was a very useful ability, the ability to douse one's feelings as quickly as one put out a fire or snuffed out a candle. In fact, it was a life-saving ability if one happened to be a spy in Lord Voldemort's circle.

But there was a price....

Feelings had a way of coming back at inopportune times in uncontrollable ways, and with compound interest for the time they been put on hold.

Voldemort's gaze swept around the circle again, but no more Death Eaters fell to his wand. They were learning fast, the new initiates, learning the same way Snape's students learned quickly how to counter poisons in his classes. They were learning to hide their feelings, trust no one, and keep their mouths shut. They were learning as Snape had learned long before the day Lucius had introduced him to the Dark Lord. Fear, intimidation, and cruelty were excellent motivators. And leaders and fathers often assumed that motivation was all their charges and children needed in life. And they never realized that there was a terrible price, and that the price would be borne out, generation after generation.

Voldemort, meanwhile, was pacing rapidly around the bright bonfire. Nagini trailed behind the Dark Lord, her tongue flicking angrily at the circle of Death Eaters.

"Nine of our number perished because of Emmerson's betrayal. Xylonea Farr. Bennett Diggenbaum. Kamee Alva. Cluny Cobb. Aloysius Farr. Tavis Walkabee. Merce Pelagos. Franchot Gage. Varian Vaughn. Some of our best new recruits, gone! Killed or captured because the enemy was ready and waiting for us."

Snape was again thankful for the mask, for he was worried, and he feared that his eyes betrayed his feelings. Nine! Nine out of thirty two, no thirty-three. It had gone very badly for the Death Eaters indeed! However, if any of them had been captured alive, then perhaps Fudge's people would have no choice now but to face the truth that Voldemort had returned. Perhaps this would be the night Dumbledore would finally receive the Ministry's full support.

But no, he thought despairingly, it would not happen that way. The Dementors would take care of any survivors when the Ministry people tried to bring them into the prison for questioning. Any captured Death Eaters would almost certainly suffer Barty Crouch's fate before the Ministry officials could get any useful information out of them. And the Death Eaters lost were none of the old crowd, none of the ones from Voldemort's former glory days. All of them were new Death Eaters, young, inexperienced. Rita Skeeter and Lucius Malfoy and their allies would almost certainly downplay this attack as just a group of unruly youths looking to stir up trouble. Snape thought it highly likely that even after this bold attack, Dumbledore was unlikely to be able to win over Fudge and the other ostriches who preferred to keep their heads buried in the sand on the matter of Voldemort's return.

Snape did not know much about the new crowd. They did not mingle with the older crowd, and they never said anything of importance when Snape tried to listen in. But the names of the casualties which Voldemort had mentioned sounded eerily familiar. Snape had a sneaking suspicion that when he checked Hogwarts' records--if he made it back to Hogwarts alive-- he would find a common thread among those names...a confirmation of a terrible gnawing dread.

"And we lost five dragons, three wyverns, and all of the griffins, chimeras and manticores, Macnair!" Voldemort was complaining. "How do you explain the poor performance of your creatures?"

"We were outnumbered and overpowered my lord!" Macnair protested. "They must have sent a special task force to deal with the creatures, because I have never heard of dragon-slayers and chimera hunters being permanently assigned to guard Azkaban!"

"Silence, fool! I don't want to hear any more of your excuses tonight!" Voldemort interrupted, brandishing his wand. "I expect better performance out of the next crop of creatures you are currently training. If I am disappointed again, I shall feed your corpse to the surviving creatures and promote someone else in your place."

"Yes, milord," Macnair responded in a shaky, contrite voice.

"Crabbe and Goyle!" Voldemort barked out. "You were supposed to have provided defense, but you performed exceedingly poorly."

"It was all we could do just to protect you, master!" Crabbe whined.

"We did well at that didn't we, master?" Goyle echoed.

Voldemort snorted. "And it is a wonder I survived. You two were absolutely disgraceful! Worse than first-year students! I think I shall turn you over to Merlin for a little while since he is so desperate for entertainment tonight…."

"No, master!" wailed Crabbe.

"Please!" cried Goyle.

"Lord Voldemort rewards his faithful and punishes the incompetent. Those of you who endured Azkaban for me and have been freed tonight may do with Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle as you see fit after the meeting … only do not do them any permanent harm. Yet. I will give them one more chance to redeem themselves, but tonight they will suffer for the harm they allowed to come to the rest of you by being lax in their duties."

"And Dolohov! What did you think you were doing, a comedy routine? You showed a stunning display of tricks on the broom, but otherwise you contributed absolutely nothing to the fight."

"M...my lord, they were using bludger bolts! I...I was only trying to stay alive..." Dolohov started to stammer.

"SILENCE!" roared Voldemort. "I am not in the mood to hear excuses! You all performed very poorly. A complete disgrace to my name! I wanted the enemy to be overconfident after this battle, not doubled over with laughter during it!"

"And you, Snape! I've seen apprentice Aurors use their wands with more competence than you did tonight! Perhaps you should put your potions expertise to good practice and coat your wand with superstick gel, so that you will be able to hold onto it during a battle! And when you are done treating your wand, then you can apply it to your broom and the seat of your britches next!" Malfoy laughed at that, and even Crabbe and Goyle snickered despite the fact that they were in boiling cauldrons of trouble themselves.

Oh shut up you fools, Snape thought as he winced at Voldemort's criticisms. Apparently his lordship had noticed his poor performance tonight.

"And what happened to the vampires? You were supposed to contact them, tell them to join us tonight!"

"I did master," Snape said, trying to sound humble and hiding his fear. "They sent the vampire bats."

"They sent cannon fodder! The bats were useless! I needed more wands tonight, seeing as how you couldn't hold on to yours!" Voldemort snapped. "Where were they? Why didn't they come?"

"I don't know my lord." Well, actually I know very well, but I'll never tell. "They said they would be here."

"The vampires will pay dearly for this slight. I have ways of getting even, and they will regret not showing up tonight."

"Malfoy," Voldemort said quietly, as he stalked over to stand nose to nose with the uninjured Death Eater. "I notice that you don't have a scratch on you. I wonder why that is? Could it be because of your skill? Or dumb luck? Or were you, perhaps, holding back, avoiding the worst of the fighting?"

And was it Snape's imagination or did Malfoy actually shudder a little?

"My master, you have reprimanded everyone else for their incompetence tonight," Malfoy protested smoothly, sticking his chin out, "will you not compliment the one servant who showed true skill and loyalty to you tonight?"

Voldemort stared at Malfoy with his cold, red eyes. "I wonder, Lucius Malfoy, just how much loyalty you have shown me these last few weeks," he said softly. "To the public you present one face. To me you present another...but I wonder if your true face is one of naked ambition tainted by cowardice. Are you truly pleased that I have returned? Or are you disappointed because your own plans have been preempted? Have you returned to me out of devotion...or fear? Or have you not returned to me at all? Are you secretly working against me?"

Malfoy said nothing, merely inclined his chin a tad more and gazed down his nose at Lord Voldemort. A few moments of tense silence between the Dark Lord and the aristocratic Death Eater ensued. "My lord," he said at last, "I have done everything you have asked so far to the best of my ability. And as you will recall, I neither gave up the Dark Arts nor turned disloyal to you as some did during your absence."

"Yes," Voldemort stated softly. "You have done everything I have asked, no more and no less. You have not put one single toe out of line since I have returned. And yet for some reason I get the impression that you are playing the same game with me that you are with the rest of the wizarding world..."

"My lord..." Lucius protested in a hurt tone.

"I expect nothing but complete, unswerving obedience and devotion from my servants! Never forget that or you will deeply regret it!"

"Yes my lord..."

Voldemort stared at Malfoy suspiciously for a few long moments, then stalked over to Pettigrew who immediately fell to his knees and began sobbing.

"Please, Lord Voldemort, I tried!" he shrieked.

"You will have to do more than try, Pettigrew. I promoted you, gifted you with a new hand. And you have repaid me with more of your sniveling, inept, cowardly behavior! Your wand produced no more than a handful of spells, and most of those were in defense of your own neck. You avoided engaging the enemy altogether, and not once did you move to help me! I think I shall turn you over to Merlin along with Crabbe and Goyle."

"No! Please!" Pettigrew pleaded, groveling and crying on the ground.

Really, thought Snape, if you wanted to insult me, your lordship, you could hardly have topped this one.

Voldemort stared at Pettigrew with disgust and open contempt. "No? Then perhaps I shall turn you over to the manticores instead..."

"Please...I ... I'm sorry, master. I ... I promise you, I will fight in the future." Pettigrew snivelled, kissing the Dark Lord's shoe.

"You had better," Voldemort sneered. "For if you disappoint me one more time, you will find the consequences most unpleasant. In the meantime, I have another task for you. I will give you a chance to redeem yourself for your cowardice tonight."

"Yes, my lord, anything!" Pettigrew whispered. "You are too kind my lord."

"The giants, my once staunch allies, have chosen to ignore my signal and my entreaties to them. This disturbs me greatly," Voldemort said. "I had counted on having their support by now. I certainly could have used their help tonight. I need to know why they have refused my summons, and believe me, they had better have a very good reason. Else they shall suffer as the vampires shall suffer for their insubordination. Therefore I am sending you as my personal emissary to the giants, to speak with them, to question them as to why they have refused to answer my call. Crabbe and Goyle, since you also have disappointed me greatly tonight, I am sending you as escorts with Pettigrew on his journey. Return to me along with the giants and I will pardon you for your incompetence tonight. Fail, and you will die a very painful and excruciating death.

"Pettigrew, you are to begin preparations immediately. You will depart within a week, or else you better have an acceptable reason for the delay."

Snape could hardly believe his good fortune. Voldemort was sending Pettigrew away to the cold, distant and lonely lands where the banished giants dwelled. And with only those two inept oafs to serve as bodyguards. This was the opportunity Snape had been waiting for. Preventing the alliance with the giants was only a tangential benefit as far as he was concerned.

After fifteen long years, the time for revenge had come at last!

"My lord, I will not fail you," Pettigrew simpered.

We'll see about that, Snape thought gleefully with a smirk on his face.

"All of you are dismissed," Voldemort hissed. "Except for Crabbe and Goyle. You two have an appointment with Mr. Mulciber and the others who showed unswerving loyalty to me these last fifteen years..."

Snape's smirk grew even wider as Crabbe and Goyle shrieked and wailed pitifully.

Voldemort turned a deaf ear to their pleas for mercy as several of the Azkaban escapees stalked menacingly toward them. Instead he pointed a beckoning finger toward Snape. "Come here Severus...we need to talk," the Dark Lord commanded softly, his tone icy.

Uh oh, Snape thought nervously, as his smirk vanished behind the mask. Those were not good words to hear from any wizard, least of all Lord Voldemort. Snape tried not to wince as he limped over to stand before the Dark Lord. He badly wanted to return to Hogwarts, as his injuries were paining him, and Madame Pomfrey would almost certainly have something on hand to soothe them. But thoughts of Hogwarts and comfort would have to wait.

More immediate was the question of his very survival.

"Yes, master?"

Voldemort grabbed Snape's jaw with a spidery hand and stared into his eyes for a long excruciating moment.

I really hate it when he does that, Snape thought acidly.

"On the night of my rebirth I asked you a question, do you remember?"

"Yes, my lord," Snape replied, struggling to hold the gaze. It was harder this time. Much harder. And Voldemort's grip was stronger, much stronger, and more painful.

"I ask you again, and you had better answer me honestly. I will know if you are lying to me."

"Yes master," Snape replied flatly.

"Are you hiding something from me?"

Hyran's face floated before his mind's eye...then Dumbledore's...then Lily and James Potters'. "Yes my lord," Snape admitted reluctantly.

"Well?" Voldemort prompted angrily. "What is it this time? The students? Harry Potter again? Dumbledore?"

"It is becoming difficult to hide my absences from the school, my lord. I am under a great deal of suspicion. If I return tonight in this condition they will almost certainly know that I was involved in the attack on Azkaban. The gash from that auror's sword will not be easy to explain away."

"Then do not go back to Hogwarts tonight. Stay here at the mansion until you have recovered your strength."

"My lord, your offer is greatly appreciated, but I must return tomorrow. I have classes to teach. And I dare not cancel them. That will raise even more suspicions than my injuries."

Voldemort stared hard at Snape, red eyes to black. "I wonder, Severus, if you are a little too eager to return to Hogwarts..."

"My lord, I have aided you as much as I am able. I have given you full reports on the defenses around the school and the strengths and weaknesses of all the students and instructors loyal to Dumbledore. I have kept you informed of his plans, of how he is trying to counter your brilliant strategies. But it is becoming more difficult to get information from his people. They don't trust me as much anymore. I have to work harder just to..."

"Silence!" snapped Voldemort. "I have heard enough of your pathetic excuses. I think your long years there may have muddled your loyalties. You may think that you can lie to me with your lips and get away with it, but your eyes are telling me a very different story."

The Potions master was floored. This was the last thing he had expected the Dark Lord to say. He blinked quickly and whispered, "My lord, I am not sure I understand...?"

Voldemort snorted and drew his wand with his free hand. The other stayed clamped around the Potions master's jaw. Snape swallowed and tried to keep the fear out of his eyes as the Dark Lord turned the wand toward him. "I am your master! I own you! You sold yourself to me twenty years ago. Never forget that! Now tell me. Lord Voldemort commands you to speak. Who do you serve?"

"You my lord," Snape replied quietly, fearfully. "Only you."

"Hmm..." Voldemort murmured, fingering his wand. "Fifteen years ago I would have accepted that response without a second thought... but now...I know better, having been abandoned in my hour of need by those whom I trusted. Tell me, Severus, tell me honestly and perhaps I might decide to forgive you. Why did you abandon me when I needed your help? Why did you go over to his side?"

Snape blinked a few times, thought quickly, but nothing came to mind. Any made-up explanation at this point would sound hollow and phony. "I was angry with you then, my lord," he replied at last, thinking that it was probably the most honest thing he'd ever said to the Dark Lord.

"Why?" Voldemort queried, his eyes narrowing to slits.

"You said that you would live forever. You promised never to abandon us. And then you left. Just like my father…."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed further. "So, is that why you went over to him?"

Snape said nothing. He was angry with Voldemort for a great many reasons, but he did not think that it would be wise to mention the rest of them.

"And now?"

"Quite honestly, I don't care anymore. I will not insult your intelligence by feigning affection for you. I do not care whom I serve so long as I am granted a small measure of authority and independence. Any feelings or affections I might have felt for anyone or anything died a long time ago."

"Oh, is that sssso?" Voldemort hissed. "Then prove it. Leave Dumbledore's council. Leave Hogwarts."

Snape swallowed. He hated it when someone called his bluff. "When my lord? I will need time to prepare..."

"Prepare?" Voldemort queried with a condescending sneer. "Whatever is so important to you that you must prepare for your departure? I thought you didn't care about anyone or anything anymore?"

Snape leveled a cold gaze at Voldemort and put every bit of menace he could muster into his voice. It was almost frightening how convincing he sounded, he thought offhandedly. "My lord, there are things I will need to bring with me if I am to leave my place of power permanently. My cauldron, certain ... supplies. You must understand...."

"Oh, I understand," Voldemort replied acidly. "I understand perfectly well. Hmm... perhaps I ought to leave you where you are for now. You could become a major inconvenience here, and I will have more than enough of your kind to deal with shortly if all goes according to my plans. And after what happened during the last war, I do not think that it would be wise to have the likes of you hanging around here any more than necessary."

"You are too kind my lord," Snape spat with undiluted sarcasm.

"Do not take that tone with me, you monster. I know how to deal with your kind, and you will greatly regret it if you test my patience any further than you already have."

"So, are you sending me back to Hogwarts permanently, or shall I begin making preparations to leave tonight?"

Voldemort said nothing for a moment, merely studied his reluctant subject skeptically, like a bug under a microscope. "I am not quite sure what to make of you," he said at last. "You always seem to say the right thing at the right time to stay my hand. You never fail to have a convincing alibi or excuse for your absences and failures. Sometimes I look at you and I still see the angry bitter youth who was consumed by lust for vengeance and power when you came to me so many years ago. Sometimes I think that you are as much of a danger to me as the likes of Albus Dumbledore and Brice Hyran, and that I ought to kill you before I end up regretting my decision to keep you on such a loose tether."

Snape said nothing, merely returned the Dark Lord's gaze coolly and unflinchingly. Go ahead and kill me, the look said. I don't care.

"Other times I think that you are far too useful to kill in spite of the fact that I really don't trust you." He paused, studied Snape for a moment. "But do you want to know the biggest reason why I haven't killed you already?"

Oh, I am breathless with suspense milord, Snape thought acidly. I can't wait to hear this.

"You are like me in so many ways. Abandoned by your parents, left for the most part to raise yourself..."

I am not you, thought Snape. I have principles. I just hide them well.

"You don't trust anyone, and you don't care about anything except power. You are very good at playing the game like your friend Malfoy, but you must know that the game is now over. I control you now, and I always will. I will never abandon you again, my servant. For I cannot be killed. I am immortal.

"Now, I ask you again. Who do you serve?"

"You, master. For I have no choice. No choice at all."

Voldemort gazed coolly at his servant, then finally released him. "Good," he said. "That's better. Never forget that, and I won't have to kill you."

"What are your orders my lord?"

"Go back to Hogwarts for now, and await further instructions. And be ready to pack up and leave at a moment's notice. I will let you know when it is time for you to make your move..."

"Yes master. I will not fail you as I did in the past."

"See that you do not. I will not be so forgiving next time."

What will I do, Snape thought miserably, when I can no longer delay the choice that I must make?

****

As usual, Sirius was there in dog form in their meeting place just beyond the limits of the Riddle Mansion's outer defenses, pacing back and forth and waiting impatiently for him, ready to intervene if things went badly. Dumbledore had been right about one thing, Snape reflected as he landed and waited for Sirius to come running over. Sirius might be an annoying pain in the neck of a watchdog, but at least he was a dependable watchdog.

"Well?" Black whispered as he resumed human form. "That took longer than I expected. What happened?"

"I was followed. I had to Apperate to shake the pursuit and double back."

"Followed?"

"Yes, and I suspect that the others who skipped the grand tour of Azkaban fifteen years ago were followed as well. This is becoming exceedingly dangerous, Sirius! I would advise you to stop following me out here, but I know how well you listen to me -- which is not at all. So if you insist on being my reluctant four-legged shadow, then at the very least, I think we should stop meeting outside Hogwarts like this."

"Things went badly for him at Azkaban, I take it. What happened?"

"Well what do you think?" Snape spat out viciously, crossing his arms to hide the fact that his hands were still shaking a little. "It was a slaughter! We lost nine Death Eaters and about half of our air force. And those of us who survived were reamed out for the failed attack, of course. It is a minor miracle that he only killed one of us as angry as he was tonight!"

"Do you know if any of the ones he lost were captured alive?"

"No. But it is unlikely that the Dementors will let them live long enough to talk if they are taken in for questioning."

"So who bought it? Any of the old crowd?"

"No. New recruits, all of them. Strange thing though...I recognized most of the names. I suspect...no, I will not say until I know for sure."

Let me be wrong, Snape thought. I hope I am wrong. But why else would his lordship let me return to Hogwarts alive? Why else would he have suddenly begun asking about the students in August? He used to be concerned about Dumbledore and his adult allies, but he never cared about the students before.

"So who did he kill?"

"Another kid. A fairly new recruit named Elias Emmerson. Stupid kid made the mistake of talking too much. Sort of like me, but I got lucky. I'm still alive." And I'm still wondering why.

"So what does his lordship plan to do now that he's taken his first serious beating, eh?"

"The Dark Lord mentioned something about getting revenge on the vampires for not showing up, and he's sending an emissary to the giants."

Black stared hard at the Potions master. "There's something else you aren't telling me. What is it?"

Snape snorted angrily. "The next time someone says that to me I swear I will introduce them to the business end of my wand!"

Black's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Why are you so testy tonight? Is Voldemort getting suspicious?"

No, you stupid mongrel, he was the flick of a manticore's stinger from killing me. He's not the least bit suspicious. "Mind your own business, fleabag," Snape snapped aloud.

"Severus, your safety is my business!" Black growled. "I may not like you, but I have an obligation..."

"I don't care how you feel about me. And you can find another obligation that doesn't involve me! I don't need you. I don't need anyone!"

Before the canine Animagus could reply, Snape summoned his Nimbus, mounted and soared into the chill October sky, leaving Black far behind.

He hasn't killed me because he thinks he knows me, Snape realized as the cool night wind clawed at his sable cloak and stung his black eyes through the ever-present mask. He looks at me and sees the kid who used to be awed by him. He wants to believe that I still want to be like him. He suspects, but he does not want to believe that I started hating him long before he vanished.

Perhaps he is hoping to bully me into being another Barty Crouch, because he needs a Barty Crouch. But I am not Barty. I never was that blind and never will be.

When he realizes that, will he turn his greedy, manipulative gaze to Draco Malfoy? Or is he looking for another?

And when he finds that one, will he decide that I am no longer useful to him?

****

"Professor Dumbledore? You asked for me?"

Dumbledore looked up from his stack of scrolls at the petite Defense teacher, who stood within the doorway of his office. The dawn sun shone through his window and cast a yellow-orange aura around the Defense teacher. "Yes, Aurellia. Please, sit down."

Deveroux strode into the room and settled into one of the chairs in front of Dumbledore's large desk.

"So, what is it, headmaster? Am I doing adequately in my teaching? Or is this about the Peace Preservation Act?"

Dumbledore smiled. "My dear, I think you have exceeded everyone's expectations as a teacher and a legal expert. Except mine of course, and Remus'. We knew you would do well."

Deveroux smiled at the compliment.

"And the Ministry has quieted down, for now, on the Peace Preservation issue. I hope we have heard the last of it. However, there is another matter that we need to discuss ... the second reason why I asked you to come here," Dumbledore continued, and the smile vanished from the Defense teacher's face.

"Oh ... that," she said, scowling.

Dumbledore ignored the look. "Aurellia, there was an attack on Azkaban last night ...."

"I had seen something in the papers about it, but I thought it was that media hack ... excuse me, assistant editor ... Rita Skeeter spreading her venom. Are you telling me that it was more serious than Skeeter let on? That it really was Voldemort, not just a group of teenage Neo-Death Eaters stirring up trouble?" The headmaster nodded and the defense teacher looked away, sadness etched into her doll-like features. "The ones who perished...they were all so young. My age and younger."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "Voldemort won many such ambitious, angry, misguided youths to his side in the last war, and in that respect, unfortunately, his methods have not changed. Skeeter's rendition of the events, while skewed, is mostly accurate. While she downplayed the seriousness of the attack and conveniently left out the fact that the slain youths bore the mark of servitude to Voldemort reborn, the rest of the story is true. We won -- this time -- and won quite handily with no loss of life to our side. However, I am deeply concerned about what happened at Azkaban because the victory was almost too easy. Voldemort does not usually retreat so quickly unless he has some other plan in motion. It was almost as if Voldemort let us win this one.

"On the other hand, I may be worrying over nothing. It may only be that we won so easily because we were prepared. Severus tipped me off a few days before the attack. I was able to get word to Doc Hyran, a good friend and trusted ally, so we were ready when Voldemort's forces came. Nonetheless, I suspect there may be a price down the road.

"That is why I have asked you to come here to teach and to Watch. Severus was involved in the attack last night, and he was fighting on the Death Eaters' side. I don't need to tell you that he is lucky to have survived the battle, and you may have noticed him limping around earlier. He was cut up pretty severely during the attack. He hasn't said much to me or Sirius about what happened during Voldemort's meeting afterward, but I am very worried about him. I fear that he is under a great deal of suspicion and that he may have to go to greater lengths and take greater risks in the future in order to allay those suspicions. Now I know you two haven't exactly seen eye to eye, but I hope you begin to see his importance in our battle against Voldemort."

Deveroux's dark look softened somewhat -- but only a little. "So, you need me to take the Vow and prepare, in case Snape has to go on another chicken run with Voldemort and his merry men."

Dumbledore gave a small chuckle despite himself, but he sobered quickly. "Yes. I couldn't even send Sirius to help him in this expedition. I fear that there will be many more 'chicken runs' as you put it. As our most reliable connection to what Voldemort is planning, I want to give him every protection possible. I need for you to begin Watching as soon as possible."

The Defense teacher sighed. "All right, I will prepare. But don't get your hopes up. Watching is difficult, even for the trained. And I'm certainly no expert."

"I know that, Aurellia, but you were not formally trained to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts either, and you are doing remarkably well at that," Dumbledore replied. "Do your best ... that's all I can ask for. And I think you will prove yourself up to the challenge, as you have with teaching."

End of Chapter 7

Author's note: Louis and Carlotta Lestrange are the equivelant of Bellatrix and Rodolpho Lestrange. As I've mentioned, most of Part I was written about a year before OoP came out, and we don't find out their first names until then.
Also, the part about "Voldemort's Heir" in the prophecy is more a reference to whom will succeed Voldemort should he disappear again; not an heir in the biological sense; we know in canon Voldemort has no "heirs" in that sense. For those wondering if Voldemort will even "stoop" to picking a successor since he plans to live forever -- you are right. But as Snape says later, "It's a little more complicated than that." Stay tuned!