Why We Fight

Part 20:
Potential
(Sunday, September 4, 1977 – Continued...)

It was an ancient place. Anyone would be able to tell that easily. The walls were lined with torches filled with verdant flames. Every once in a while, the monotonous marble walls would open into great gaping mouths of infinite darkness formed by archways. In the center of the room was a raised dais and on it was a throne of red marble. In the weak light of the torches, the marble shimmered and shifted like a liquid...like blood.

In the throne sat a man with black hair, his temples were graying. He was a handsome, aristocratic man with long fingers. His eyes were a brownish red color like dried blood, cold as death, shining with madness and power. He was a sight to behold. Before him stood eight cloaked figures, and kneeling at his feet was the Dark Lord's ninth Death Eater.

The Dark Lord stood, and the one in front of him shivered. "Severus," the man said in a cold, wheezy voice. Two of his fingers lifted the young man's chin and forced Severus's obsidian gaze to meet his eyes.

"My Lord," Severus murmured.

"My servant Rastaban has told me a great deal about you, young Snape," the man spoke. "You are supposed to be quite powerful."

"I am, My Lord," Severus stated.

The Dark Lord's lips curled into a frigid smile. The piercing maroon eyes left Severus to settle on one of his followers. "Rastaban, come forth," the Dark Lord stated.

A figure stepped from the circle and removed his death's head mask, revealing shoulder-length black hair, a chiseled face, olive skin, and dark brown eyes. "My Lord," Rastaban Lestrange murmured, nodding his head at the Dark Lord.

"Interesting disguise," the Dark Lord stated. "I always knew it would be useful to have a Metamorphmagus as a follower. What is the name you go by at Hogwarts?"

"Damian Faust," Rastaban stated.

"Ah, yes, Damian Faust," the Dark Lord answered. "Do you stand for Severus?"

"I stand, My Lord," Rastaban nodded.

"Do any others stand?" the Dark Lord said.

"I stand, My Lord," a second voice came and a second man stepped forward. He pulled back his hood, revealing brilliant platinum hair in a ponytail with cold and calculating gray eyes.

"Lucius," the Dark Lord murmured. "Do any others stand?"

"I stand," a third voice came.

"Rosier," the Dark Lord spoke. Evan Rosier gave Severus a smile.

"'Salright, old chum, the fun's just beginning," the brown-haired young man said in a Cockney accent.

The Dark Lord silenced Rosier with a glare. "Do any others stand?" he demanded.

"I stand, My Lord," a fourth voice came. Preston Wilkes nodded toward Severus, nervously tucking a strand of his honey-colored hair behind an ear.

"Do any others stand?" the Dark Lord asked.

"I stand," a fifth voice came. A slight figure stepped forward, and removed the death's head mask. Heavy-lidded acid-green eyes met the Dark Lord's. Long black hair framed a pale, angelic, aristocratic face with a coldness that Severus had only seen in the Dark Lord. The seventeen-year-old knew the Black family characteristics by heart and the Dark Lord didn't even need to say the woman's name for Severus to know who she was. She was Bellatrix Black-Lestrange, Narcissa's older sister.

"Bella," the Dark Lord's thin lips formed into a cold smile as he examined the heavy-lidded woman.

"Five stand for you, Severus," the Dark Lord stated, his tone put a chill into Severus's spine and he tore his gaze from Bellatrix. "Five of my loyal Knights of Walpurgis believe that you should become one of us, a Death Eater." He began to circle the sallow-skinned youth. Like a vulture, Severus mused. "If you turn against me, your life is forfeit."

Severus swallowed hard, his dark eyes darting toward the gaping arches surrounding the room, searching for a way out. The Dark Lord placed his hand on Severus's forehead. "Legilimens," he murmured. Visions clouded Severus's sight. He saw himself stepping between his parents as they fought and his father performing the Cruciatius Curse on him for his trouble, zapping flies off the ceiling of his bedroom to try and block out their yelling, being suspended in midair by Potter, Hermione de Lioncourt.

Severus fought the Dark Lord's Imperius Curse, determined not to let him any deeper. "Do not fight me, Severus." Severus broke the link and the Dark Lord seemed amused. "Very well. You may stand."

Severus stood up shakily. "Your left arm," the Dark Lord stated. Severus pulled up the sleeve of his robe, revealing the pallid skin of his arm. The Dark Lord placed his wand to the flesh of Severus's forearm. "Morsmordre." A coldness unlike any that Severus had felt before seeped into his arm before becoming a burn, it was as if the Dark Lord had put a hot poker to his arm. Severus gritted his teeth, determined not to scream at the intense pain. Soon, the Dark Lord removed his wand from Severus's arm.

Severus stared at the red mark on his arm: a snake slithering from a skull's mouth. He had now become a Death Eater. His arm still had twinges of pain but Severus bowed at his new master. "My Lord," he murmured. The Death Eaters: Igor Karakoff, Lucius Malfoy, Rastaban Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix Lestrange, Evan Rosier, Daniel Travers, and Preston Wilkes applauded the newest member.

The Dark Lord extended a hand toward Rastaban. "Rastaban tells me that there is a girl attending Hogwarts with much potential to be a powerful Knight," the Dark Lord stated. "Do you know this girl, Severus?"

A flash of the honey-haired girl in question popped into mind. "Hermione de Lioncourt, Slytherin. She just transferred from Agnitio Academy of Magic, My Lord," Severus stated.

"And she can produce a Paladin," Rastaban added.

"A Paladin, you say?" The Dark Lord smirked. "Hermione de Lioncourt...Hermione of the lion's heart, interesting. A Slytherin with the heart of a lion," he said.

"Are you certain that she is good enough, My Lord? She's dating a Gryffindor," Lucius stated.

"This does not matter," the Dark Lord stated. "I want all those with connections to Hogwarts to keep an eye on this girl. She has great potential."

His cold eyes examined Lucius, annoyed at Lucius's House loyalty. Trivial things such as one's House did not matter in the great scheme of things. Having followers from Gryffindor was a great asset to the Dark Lord. It was almost expected of the ambitious Slytherin, and possibly from the intelligent Ravenclaw...but who would ever expect a loyal Hufflepuff or a brave Gryffindor to follow Lord Voldemort?

And, after all, there had once been a time when the Sorting Hat had been torn between assigning a young Tom Marvolo Riddle to Slytherin or to Gryffindor, and Lord Voldemort had chosen well. Being a Slytherin had tried him in ways that being a Gryffindor could never have. He had proven himself...not as a piteous half-blood, but as a true wizard.

---

Hermione Granger chewed the end of a sugar quill as she looked over her journal. Her curly hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

September 4, 1977

It's been a very long, eventful day here in the past. I went to Dueling Club and I ended up fighting Sirius. I used Infucatum Ostrinus on him, and he spent most of the day purple. Then I ended up in a Patronus duel with Lucius Malfoy (he's always around here), and my otter became a Paladin. Apparently, a Paladin is a surge of power that makes your Patronus corporeal. My otter bit off the head of Lucius's cobra. It was interesting.

Harry, Draco's become really good friends with your father, Remus, Sirius, and Peter. And, for his trouble, he spent last night in the infirmary due to a fantastic Quaffle toss from Remus. It knocked Malfoy straight off his broom. I'm sure you would have enjoyed the sight. I hope to be back soon.

Love,
Hermione