Originally posted by H. S. 6
Snape dared not move—he scarcely breathed. He stared at the floor, waiting for further instruction from his master. It didn’t take long.“Your arm, Severus,” ordered Voldemort. As a second thought, he waved his wand in an arc beside him. There was a slight hissing noise, and Lucius’s motionless body disappeared, leaving behind no trace that it had ever been there.
Silently, Snape held out his left fore-arm, pulling back the sleeve of his robes, revealing the tell-tale mark of the Death Eater—a snake protruding from the mouth of a skull.
Voldemort touched his wand to Snape’s arm. The mark burned a dark black, searing into Severus’s skin. He grimaced at the pain.
Voldemort didn’t notice.
Habitually, Severus raised his hood over his head and dropped to a knee. There was silence for several seconds, and then the familiar pop, pop, pop of wizards Apparating filled the room. Each Death Eater bowed before their lord as they appeared.
After several quiet moments, the room was filled with the Dark Lord’s followers. He surveyed them for several moments, and finally spoke, “You’ve escaped Azkaban,” His voice remained a cold drawl. “Very well. Even I could not touch my followers there. Too many Aurors, you see… crawling around the place. Rats.” His tone was conversational, and yet still dangerous. “Of course,” Voldemort added, “none of you have done anything worthy of my efforts to free you.”
Somebody in the circle spoke up. “Sir… you’ve helped free us?”
Voldemort whirled about, his cloak following his movements in the air. “Naturally… The Dementors were very willing to help out an…” He paused a moment, searching for the right word. “old friend. You see, Alecto,” continued the Dark Lord, referring to the Death Eater that had spoken, “the Dementors are truly no different than any other animal on this planet. They only wish to be fed.” He let the last sentence hang in the air a few moments. “Even now, they gather around this very house in search of a meal.”
“Pettigrew!” Voldemort barked suddenly. A short robed figure threw himself at his lord’s feet.
“Yes, my lord?”
“The Dementors await their payment.”
“Yes, my lord.” He nodded in understanding, and Disapparated with a crack.
“But my lord…” began the dumpy looking cloaked figure of Alecto, who had since taken off his hood to reveal a lopsided face. “The Dementors never showed up at Azkaban. We overran the Aurors just a few hours ago…”
There were several whispers—or perhaps groans—of agreement. Voldemort spoke again, a trace of frustration present in his tone. “My dear Alecto, the Dementors are useful in more than one way. Just because you did not happen to see them with your rather blind eyes doesn’t mean they were not there.”
This time, Alecto remained decidedly quiet.
Once more, Voldemort began to talk. “It is important you understand why I’ve summoned you here. All of you are aware of what transpired only a couple of months ago at Hogwarts—” He let the details of that night return to his followers for a moment. “Draco Malfoy failed to kill Albus Dumbledore, an assignment that he had willfully accepted at the beginning of his sixth school year.”
“Fortunately, Severus was able to make up for the boy’s failure, and… carry out the plan. You may also know that our dearest Draco hasn’t shown his face to myself or any of his fellow Death Eaters. Regretfully, his time is up.”
At this time, Voldemort turned to face one of the Death Eaters. Snape glanced up and recognized immediately who the Dark Lord was now looking down on.
“Bellatrix.”
She pulled back her hood, revealing pale skin, a bony face, and heavily-lidded eyes. She nodded, but kept her eyes glued to the floor.
Voldemort moved swiftly over to Snape’s position in the circle. Snape could feel his lord’s eyes upon him, even with his hood up.
“Severus.”
Snape responded by pulling back his hood. He kept his head down.
“You were the last to see Draco. Go with Bellatrix. Find him.”
The flames in the fireplace burned ever lower. Shadows threatened to control the room, and yet the light of the flames fought back with an unyielding perseverance.
Aside from the nigh-inaudible crackling of the fire, there was complete silence.
“Find him,” repeated Voldemort. His voice was a characteristically low hiss. “And kill him.”
* * * * *
“Are you going to ask Professor McGonagall?” asked Ron. Harry, Hermione, and he were seated at one of the tables set up outside for the wedding party. The band continued to play, the dance floor was filled with various guests of the wedding, and groups of chatting witches and wizards flowed around the tables and collected in small eddies before moving on.
“I suppose I should,” responded Harry. He glanced around at the crowd, and noticed the new Headmistress of Hogwarts talking to Hagrid. “What’ll I say?”
Hermione’s brow furrowed in thought. “I’d come right out with it. Ask her if there were any Order members that should have been Disapparating from the Burrow the other night.”
Harry turned to Ron for a second opinion. Ron shrugged.
“Right, then,” said Harry, standing from the table.
He maneuvered his way around the collection of wizards and witches, and finally came to Hagrid and McGonagall. McGonagall, whose back was facing Harry, continued to talk to the half-giant, in what Harry thought to be a rather low whisper. They also seemed to be standing fairly far away from the other attendants.
“Well hello there, ‘Arry,” boomed Hagrid’s great voice, noticing Harry. Harry nodded and smiled.
“I was wondering, Professor, if I might have a word with you?”
McGonagall shot a furtive glance at Hagrid, who took the clue, gave Harry a weak grin, and shuffled away, muttering something about some more “punch.”
McGonagall grasped Harry by the arm and pulled him even further away from the crowd. “What is it you want to talk about, Mr. Potter?”
Not knowing how to begin, Harry said flatly, “Erm… Professor, was there anyone Disapparating from the Burrow on Tuesday night? An Order member, maybe?”
Her eyes searched Harry’s for a moment, as if she was looking for an answer there. “I don’t believe so,” she finally answered. “Of course, there might’ve been, but I couldn’t tell you why. Why do you ask?”
“I thought I heard someone… the other night. I s’pose it was nothing,” he finished.
“Right.” McGonagall’s reply sounded unsure. To change the subject, She asked off-handedly, “Will you be coming to Hogwarts this term? I assume you’ll have received your letter, at any rate.”
Glad now to have gotten away from the previous topic, Harry nodded his head. “I think so, Professor.”
“Good. Well, you know, Harry.” She paused. “Anything Hogwarts can provide you, or the Order—it’s yours. You know that.”
Harry nodded.
“Well, I must be off, Mr. Potter.” Suddenly, her attitude was very different. She became the brisk, stern Professor McGonagall Harry knew so well. “I expect to see you on the 31st with the other seventh years.” With that, she turned and Disapparated right on the spot. Harry was left briefly by his lonesome.
As he was getting ready to return to the party, something brushed up against his leg, like a cat yearning affection. He looked towards the ground, expecting to find Crookshanks or some other feline slinking by his shoes. Instead, he found only overgrown grass. All at once, one word rang clear in his mind.
Behind.
Whirling about, he searched frantically around him. He wasn’t alone. Something told him he wasn’t alone.
The world had turned off. The party music that had been drifting to him from the gathering only twenty yards away became muffled and distant. Silence enveloped him like a thick blanket on a hot summer’s day.
“Who are you?” he shouted. What else could he do? “I know you’re here.” His heart rate quickened, breath became shallow. “Show yourself!” Automatically, he reached for his wand.
The eerie quiet remained for several moments longer before it evaporated completely, as if it had never existed. Harry was left once again by himself, utterly bewildered. Completely at a loss, he returned rather hurriedly to the reception.
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So, a year later, and I'm still writing. (Just to let you guys know, this is the longest I've ever written a single piece of fiction.)
A quick thanks to everyone who's been reading and supporting me over these many weeks and months. You're the ones who've kept me going (not that I don't love writing this, it's just forcing myself to sit down and actually start to write). Thanks to you all, and here's to more frequent updates!