Between the idea and the reality
Between the motion and the act
There falls a Shadow
-T.S.Eliot
,.-‘’-.,,.-‘’-.,.-‘’-.,.-‘’-.,.-‘’-.,.-‘’-.,.-‘’-.,.-‘’-.,.-‘’-.,.-‘’-.,.-‘’-.,.-‘’-.,.-‘’-.,.-‘’-.
Long shadows cast by the moonlight moved eerily in the silence and an unusually cool breeze flitted through stale July air. The moon was high in the dark night and the sky starless, the earth quiet and still. It was the witching hour “ a time of power and darkness that called to lost souls and tainted innocence: the misled and the broken, the betrayed and the foolish, the ambitious and the feared. It was to them the darkness called and it was they who answered to the darkness. It was the Dark Lord’s favorite time of night.
A figure that seemed to blend into the night suddenly shifted, his robes sweeping soundlessly back as a long pale hand emerged from its sleeve. In the figure’s fist was the long smooth length of a dark wand; he smiled at it chillingly before bringing his wrist up and running it almost lovingly across the marked skin of his forearm. It burned, glowing slightly “ his mouth curling into a sickening smile that spoke of malice.
There would be screams tonight. And pleas for mercy. But he had none to give. For that was the consequence of failure.
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Severus Snape was in the middle of reorganizing his storage closet in the dungeons when a sharp, familiar, burning pain suddenly shot up his arm, causing him to lose his grip on the jar he was currently holding. He watched in dismay as it fell and shattered upon the cold stone floor. Cursing audibly, he whispered a quick Evanesco over his shoulder as he swept out of the room, his left arm clasped tightly against him.
He made his way hurriedly to his private chambers and grabbed three potions from his personal stock to shove in the deep pockets of his long sweeping robes. A Pain-Relieving tonic, a Blood-Replenishing potion, and a phial of Dreamless Sleep were hardly adequate enough to battle the after-effects of a Death Eater revel, but it was the best he could do. The sound of his dark dragonskin boots echoed in the empty chamber as he made his way across the room to his antique wardrobe. Throwing it open, he reached to the very back and felt around till his fingertips brushed the familiar outline of his Death Eater mask. Pulling it out, he stared with loathing eyes at the small object in his hand that had caused so much pain in his life.
The mask was white and its surface cool and smooth except for the deep groove that ran diagonally across the surface from a Sectumsempra curse gone astray. The empty eye holes of the mask seemed to stare into his soul; he hastily shoved it in his pocket and made his way out of the dungeons.
Snape scowled as he pushed open the great doors of the castle and hastened across the hilly grounds. He could only imagine what the Dark Lord had in store for tonight: a little torture to remind them of their place, or perhaps he would go into one of his maddening rants as he prowled the circle looking for weaknesses, or, perhaps worst of all, he might have acquired entertainment for his Death Eaters. Snape’s hand clenched into a fist; those were the nights where self-loathing threatened to drown him and he honestly questioned whether it was all worth it.
It was only the hope that he might save one unfortunate Muggle girl, one innocent child, one nameless face, from the horrors that happened within that circle that kept him returning to the Dark Lord’s side. He hoped it was enough.
Upon reaching the outskirts of the Hogwarts boundaries, Snape quickly pulled out his wand and tapped it lightly on the burning tattoo that marred the pale skin of his forearm. Almost immediately the world seemed to spin and Snape found himself pulled from the school grounds and thrust unceremoniously forward. He stumbled only a step before he gracefully regained his footing and eyed his surroundings.
The landscape was remote and uninhabited, the grass dry and brittle with a couple sparse trees littering the area. Pulling his mask from his pocket, he vaguely noticed the glow of a town in the distance and the faint sound of rushing water far to his left. He spied the Death Eaters already formed in a circle near a stand of trees and quickly stalked over to take his assigned position within the ring of the Dark Lord’s followers.
The air was thick with apprehension and as Snape neared he saw why; the hunched figure of someone unknown was lying twisted and mangled among the dirt. The Dark Lord was standing over him with his wand raised.
The alabaster face of the serpentine man rose as he noticed his latest arrival and his face twisted into a malicious sneer.
“Ah, so the spy has returned to us,” the Dark Lord hissed softly and Snape unconsciously checked that all his Legilimency blocks were in place as a shiver ran down his spine.
“Yes, my Lord,” he said, his head bowed in reverence, “the blocks surrounding Hogwarts are as troublesome as ever. I beg your forgiveness for my tardiness.”
“Granted,” the master hissed back and Snape felt his skin crawl in response, “but do so again and we shall be listening to your screams.”
Snape nodded his understanding and bowed low. “You are too kind, my master.”
The Dark Lord ignored him and turned back to face another member of the circle. “Lucius, clean up this piece of filth,” he commanded, indicating the twisted heap of flesh before him. The Death Eater obediently stepped forward to take care of it and the Dark Lord began walking slowly around the circle.
“This is the cost of failure,” the Dark Lord said softly, his voice carrying in the silence. “I feel I have been too lenient in these past weeks. That time has now passed; I will not tolerate failure. Failure is weakness and there are no places in this circle for the weak!”
His declaration was met with silence.
“Remember what fate befell your brother, and remember what fate shall befall you,” he said, his voice laced with venom. “Do not fail me.”
A murmur of ‘yes, my Lord’ swept down the circle and the Dark Lord turned away. “I need only my chosen ones. The rest of you get out of my sight.”
Almost at once there was a myriad of small popping noising as the members of the outer circle fled the revel, Apparating away to safety. Snape almost scoffed under his mask, They thought that was terrifying? They had not seen the Dark Lord terrifying.
He remembered a time when he had been young and petrified at his first few gatherings; and then the Crucios had become second nature to expect, the pain only a reminder that he was still alive. They would learn that the dead did not feel pain, and then they would be thankful for it. Shaking off reminiscence of the past, Snape stepped forward to meet with the rest of the inner circle. Masks were removed to reveal Malfoy, Lestrange, Nott, Goyle, Dolohov, Pettigrew, Rookwood… the list went on to include a collection of scorched and charred souls.
“Severus,” the Dark Lord hissed, “I hear you have some news to report.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Snape replied, his voice one of the obedient subordinate as he dropped into a low bow. “Dumbledore recently came to me requesting the use of my skills as a Legilimens.”
The Dark Lord cocked his head in interest.
“I believe this is one of his final tests, my Lord,” Snape continued with mock enthusiasm. “The old man wishes for me to teach the Potter boy Occlumency. I am almost assured that after I complete my task he will finally allow me entrance to the Order.”
Voldemort seemed to consider this for a second, his hand slowly caressing his forearm as he pondered the implications of his spy’s report.
“Then you will teach him, Severus,” he said slowly. “But tell me, has the boy any natural aptitude for the art?”
The Potions master didn’t bother to suppress his snort of cold amusement. “As always, the boy is hot-headed and lacks self-control. I have no doubt the lessons will only further weaken his mind and spark his temper. Dumbledore continues to coddle the boy into thinking he is powerful, yet the truth is that he will not stand a chance against you””
“I have no need for you to tell me what I already know, Severus,” the Dark Lord suddenly snapped. “You have answered my question, now be silent.” Snape inwardly sighed in relief as his master turned away to address Lestrange.
“Have you gathered the information I require?”
Lestrange paled abruptly under the Dark Lord’s gaze. “M-my Lord,” he stuttered, and dropped to his knees to kiss the hem of Voldemort’s robes. “P-please, please forgive me”the Order, it is well hidden, no one knows where it is, I have searched my Lord, used every resource I have, I””
“Crucio.”
Snape’s outward appearance didn’t even flinch as the sound of screams filled the air. He could tell that Lestrange was fighting the pain”it was the body’s natural instinct to fight it and Snape almost pitied the poor fool. The trick was suppressing the instinct to resist the curse and instead allowing the pain to flow through you; Snape had mastered the skill when he was twenty years of age.
The Dark Lord broke contact from Lestrange’s withering form and allowed the gasping man a break as he lay weakly in the dirt.
“Get up, you filth,” he spat before turning away to address the circle once more. Lestrange pulled himself unsteadily to his feet to return to his spot.
“Lucius,” the Dark Lord called and a tall, lean figure detached itself from the circle to bow before him. “Have you found any ways to hurt the Order? I trust you, one of my most trusted Death Eaters, have at least something to report.”
“Indeed, my Lord,” came the confident drawl of Lucius. “I have been observing the Order closely these past couple of weeks, and while their location still remains hidden, their weakest links are often left wide open for attack.”
“And what might that be, Lucius?” the Dark Lord sneered.
“Their cubs.”
Snape felt a prick of alarm go through him.
“While they are not necessarily children anymore,” Lucius continued, “the Order’s newest recruits are young”impulsive, hotheaded youths who do not think before acting. It would be quite easy to lure them into coming out from the Order’s protective shields””
“They why have you not done so?,” the Dark Lord snapped.
“The Mudblood.”
Bollocks, Snape thought.
“Explain yourself, Lucius,” the Dark Lord demanded.
“Potter is the golden boy of the little group, their power. Weasley is their loyalty and strength. But Granger is their logic, their rational. Without her, they would be reduced to a bunch of hotheaded teenage boys; she balances their irrationality with reason. It is my proposal, my Lord, that we throw off the balance.”
The Dark Lord’s bloodless lips twisted into a sickening smile and Snape felt something like panic rise in his chest. They were going to go after Granger.
“Granger,” the Dark Lord purred and turned back to face Snape. “Tell me, Severus, is the little Mudblood pretty?”
Snape’s stomach involuntarily turned and he fought to keep his voice even as lewd snickers filled the air of the circle.
He gave a disgusted sneer. “The insufferable know-it-all? I suppose she is common at best. Bushy hair, buck teeth, and a loud, shrill voice are not exactly desirable traits.”
Lucius interjected. “Severus, you’re remembering the image of an eleven-year-old girl.” He turned to face the Dark Lord and raised his wand. “If I may, my Lord?”
Voldemort nodded.
“Remembro,” Lucius murmured and a grey mist shot from his wand to hover in the air above the circle. Soon an image appeared reflected in the silver mist. Snape realized it was actually a still image from Lucius’s memory of the battle at the Department of Mysteries. Granger stood captured in the mist, her clothes rather askew and her hair wild as she pointed her wand at Lucius. Cocking his head to the side slightly, Severus tried to look objectively at the girl before him.
Not a girl, he realized, his eyes sweeping down her plain t-shirt and Muggle jeans, but a young woman. It was painfully difficult in the snug Muggle clothes to ignore the delicate curve of a woman’s body, the subtle brush of firm breasts against the plain cotton of her shirt, the small defiant tilt of her chin as her caramel eyes blazed.
So this is what regular men see, he thought, ruefully admitting that the obnoxious wand-waving chit had long transformed into a rather comely young woman of sixteen. Stray wisps had escaped the rather severe bun to tease the column of her neck and the color, Snape realized, but not one of brown as he had long ago written off, but of beaten gold and copper mixed in with strands of light chestnut. Her mouth was pursed as if she were about to curse Lucius into oblivion and Snape found himself hoping that whatever spell she had unleashed, it had found its mark.
“You see, Severus,” a voice suddenly said, pulling Snape from his reverie. “Not quite the shapeless first-year you once knew.”
Snape shrugged indifferently. “Far be it for me to deny the obvious fact that she has matured, but that incessant mouth of hers will be enough to wish you’d killed her on the spot.”
Lucius sneered cruelly and his eyes sparked with malicious intent. “Don’t fret, Severus, I’m sure we could fine something to keep those pretty lips of hers busy.”
Something snapped inside Snape and he was sure his body was rigid as a board as he fought to keep his temper in check. You will not ever touch her! his mind screamed and he balled his hand into a fist.
“I’m sure you could, Lucius,” he managed to say tersely.
“I applaud your plan, Lucius,” the Dark Lord hissed, a cold grin appearing on his face, “you will be in charge of finding a way to remove her from the picture. I don’t care if you abduct her, kill her, or simply break her emotionally, but you are to find a way to isolate her and keep her away from Potter and his foolish friends.”
The tall man bowed. “It would be my pleasure, my Lord.”
“And Severus,” the Dark Lord continued, “you will help your fellow Death Eater in any way necessary. You know the Mudblood, therefore, you know the best way to hurt her.”
Snape bowed stiffly and muttered softly, “As you wish, my Lord.”
“Perfect,” the Dark Lord murmured softly. “Now, you all have your assignments. Be quick, be silent, and do not show weakness, my Death Eaters; I will not accept failure.”
With a final hiss and the glint of maddening anticipation in his eyes, the Dark Lord Voldemort vanished into the cool night. Similar sounds of the Death Eaters Disapparating sounded around the circle till only two lone figures remained in the darkness of night. Snape watched as Lucius finally removed his milky white mask and tucked it fondly into the pocket of his Death Eater robes. Following suit, Snape removed his mask and came to stand near his long-time comrade.
“You asked to speak with me, Lucius?” he asked without preamble. “What is this about?”
“You heard the Dark Lord, you will assist me with my task.”
“I am neither deaf nor dumb, Lucius,” Snape replied, his voice icy with impatience. “I heard. Just tell me what to do and I’ll be there.”
“Very well,” Lucius replied, and then turned to look Snape directly in the eye. He could feel the brush of Lucius’s mind as it probed his awareness and he stared unblinkingly into Lucius’s cold blue eyes. Apparently satisfied, Lucius broke eye contact and continued. “I have been watching the Order for weeks, specifically watching the shift changes for the guard that watches the Mudblood’s parents””
Snape’s stomach rolled sickeningly.
“”the plan is to kill off the mother. According to our sources, the girl is closer to her father, and use him as bait to lure her out from the protection of the Order. The Order’s member’s are spread thin, and the house is usually unguarded for about ten to fifteen minutes. The plan is to disable the wards--that’s your specialty--Stun the mother, grab the father, and set the house on the fire before the replacement guard shows up. A magical fire shouldn’t take more than ten minutes to eat up their pathetic excuse for a house, so there’s no chance of the mother escaping. After that, it’s just a matter of sending the little twit a picture of her father and sitting back to wait.”
Snape swallowed hard. He had to warn the Order and get Granger’s parents to a safe house immediately. There was no question in his mind that the little Gryffindor princess would run right into Lucius’s hands in exchange for her father. She might be the brightest witch of her age, but she was also a typical, self-sacrificing Gryffindor. No, he couldn’t let Lucius get to her parents first.
“When are you planning to act?” he asked, hoping desperately it was at least a couple weeks from now. They’d need time to smuggle the Grangers out of the country and set them up in a safe house, and at the moment the Order was indeed spread thin. They needed time.
Lucius smirked. “I have the location of the house, the time for the guard switch, and an outer circle team on standby simply waiting for my command. There is no time like the present, so how about tonight? What do you say, Severus?”
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REVIEW!!!
P.S.- Snape is lying about not being admitted into the Order, we all know he's already a member but Voldemort doesn't. Hopefully if that was confusing it's sorted out now.
IMPORTANT! I uploaded this beginning chapter almost three months ago before this ridiculous 'author fee' was created.
The policy, in my opinion, is a huge sellout and I was sorely disappointed in the management of this site.
Since then, I have moved this story over to FanFiction.com (it's nearly on the thirteenth chapter) because I refuse to post on this site any longer.
I hope you all will continue to read despite the obvious inconvenience, and I'm sorry to those readers who were looking for more on this site. See you over at FF.net!