A Reflection of Himself

Perhaps the first thing Snape felt when he arrived so unexpectedly in the Dark Lord's presence was the sudden drop in temperature. It was a late summer's night, yet it felt significantly cooler than was normal for that time of year. Looking around himself, Snape noticed he was standing in some kind of cavern, probably hidden away from civilization in the mountains somewhere. The chilly air sent a tingle up his spine, and trying to keep his composure calm and nonchalant, Snape regarded Voldemort, bowing formally.

Voldemort smiled wickedly down at Snape's thin form, his mouth twisted into a truly grotesque smirk. His red eyes emitted a dull glow in the darkness, a stark contrast to his white, serpentine skin. The other Death Eaters were standing in a ring around Voldemort and Snape as the Dark Lord addressed them.

"Welcome, my Death Eaters," he hissed. "It has been too long since our last meeting. It would seem our dear Severus here has decided it would be amusing to arrive late," he finished pointedly.

"I apologize, my lord," Snape said quietly, looking at the ground. "It shan't happen again."

"Again?" Voldemort sneered. "One time is unexcusable enough. Crucio!"

Jolts of excruciating pain spiralled mercilessly through Snape's body as he fell down to the ground, cringing helplessly. He had experienced the agony of the Cruciatus curse many times in his life, so this was hardly anything new to him, but that never made suffering the pain any easier. He would suffer the pain over and over, though, if it would one day mean that Voldemort would be defeated permanently. His nerves felt shot, but Snape wouldn't cry out. He learned long ago not to fight against the pain but to just allow it to do its course and be done with it. After a few moments, the worst of the pain had subsided, leaving Snape limp on the ground.

"Well, that was fun," mused Voldemort, sneering. "Now get back into line where you belong!"

The snake that was Voldemort firmly kicked Snape in the lower back, and Snape bit back the urge to protest. He crawled into line with the others and stood silently watching the Dark Lord, waiting for him to make his next move. Voldemort slowly paced back and forth among the ranks, glaring at some of his followers, ignoring others, and muttering obscenities under his voice.

"You lot are a disappointment to everything I stand for," he finally hissed. "You claim to be my loyal followers, and yet, a whole year has passed since my great return, and what have we to show for it? You gave yourselves to me to do my bidding, and my bidding you will do. That run-in with Dumbledore and his faithful little army at the Ministry back in June was a pitiful attempt, my minions. The new school year is nearly upon us, and I will tell you now that there will be more deaths this year. You must be and you will be ruthless. We will reclaim our place in the wizarding world in honor of Salazar Slytherin, and to do that, it will be as it was years ago. Surely you all remember those days. The murders, ah, yes... the bloodshed... the destruction of whole families and their homes... The Muggles and the Mudbloods must all be done away with, and we shall start with those who are closest to Harry Potter."

He silenced himself once again, allowing his words to sink in. Voldemort continued to pace the ground, then stopped right in front of Snape.

"Ah, Severus, tell me, my spy, what has our old friend Dumbledore been planning at Hogwarts?"

Snape put up his best front for Voldemort and looked him squarely in the eyes, saying impassively, "The old fool thinks his army still has a chance, but we all know that is rubbish. He knows nothing of what you are planning, my lord, and no one in his pitiful Order of the Phoenix has any real leads. They are clueless as can be."

"Good, very good," cooed Voldemort silkily. "That is why I keep you around, I suppose. You are the snide one, Severus, but you get the job done."

Snape said nothing, leaving Voldemort to continue with his preaching of world domination and their rightful place in the wizarding world and such nonsense. He listened carefully, however, never once wavering from taking in all the details, for Snape knew that Dumbledore would want a full report upon his arrival back at Hogwarts, and he would only then have to reiterate himself at the next Order meeting. Before too horribly long, Voldemort stopped speaking and sighed, shaking his head.

"Well, my Death Eaters, the hour grows exceedingly late, and even I need my beauty sleep. Go from my sight now and do my bidding. Remember, I shall be checking on you!"

The Death Eaters disapparated one by one from the scene, and lastly, Snape disappeared himself and found himself reappearing outside the gates to Hogwarts. He said the proper password and began his long trek back to the castle. The night was cloudy and growing rather windy, and Snape thought he smelled rain in the air. The leaves on the trees rustled loudly in the blowing wind, which also blew Snape's black hair in his face. He tried to push it away, but it was of little use. Until he was back inside the school, he was prey to the elements of the weather, just as he was prey to Voldemort.

Every time Snape returned from a Death Eater meeting, he would think about why he had even joined forces with the dark side in the first place. He could blame it on foolish decisions from being too young to know better, pressure from his peers, being an outcast, a rough childhood, a desire for power and recognition, but the final thought was always the same: He had chosen of his own free will to join the Death Eaters, and excuses, no matter what they were or even how true they might have been (and they were indeed all quite true), the fact of the matter was that Severus Snape had chosen that path. Every time he looked down with scorn and anguish at his Dark Mark, the black skull and snake standing out in bleak contrast against the pale skin on his left forearm, Snape was reminded all the more of his past decision and the consequences of it. He oftentimes wondered how Dumbledore could have been kind enough to show him such benevolence and mercy, when in all reality, Snape certainly felt unworthy to the core of it. No one but Dumbledore had ever shown the broken man such kindness in his rather short life, and Snape couldn't understand that sort of kindness. He knew, however, that he owed it to the rest of the wizarding world to make penance for his past crimes, and more than that, he knew he owed it to himself, but then, of course, there was Harry Potter, who had already been named a wonder before he was old enough to speak, yet Severus Snape had been forced to sacrifice everything behind the scenes, knowing that he would probably never receive the recognition he had sought for so long in his miserable excuse for a life (or so he felt it was), but Harry Potter, he had already received it, yet he acted so selfish in Snape's eyes.

Coming out of his deep thoughts, Snape realized that he was now at the front doors to the castle, so he entered solemnly just as the rain began to pour outside. He quietly made his way to Dumbledore's chambers, knowing that he would be awakening the old wizard from his sleep to inform him of the latest news from Voldemort's forces. Snape found himself standing in the Headmaster's office, where Fawkes was slumbering on his perch, and the figures in all the portraits were snoring blissfully in the placid darkness. Snape reached for a small hammer on the desk in front of him and struck the tiny bell on Dumbledore's desk just once, and before a minute had passed, Dumbledore was standing there, clad in purple pajamas that were covered in silvery half-moons. He was holding a lone candle, but with a swift motion with his free hand, several other candles in the room lit themselves, and a fire appeared in the grate.

"Sit down, Severus," he said calmly. "Relax a minute."

Snape only silently nodded and proceeded to take a seat in the same leather chair by the fireplace that he always sat in when he visited the Headmaster. Dumbledore sat across from him, and despite the late hour of the night, Dumbledore conjured up the routine teapot and cups for the occasion. Snape stifled a groan at the little pieces of china on the table before him, rubbing his forearm in a mixture of annoyance and pain. He could still feel the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse and wondered if he would need to take an extra strong sleeping draught.

"The Cruciatus again?" Dumbledore inquired after some time.

Snape merely nodded.

"I see," remarked the old man sorrowfully. "Do you need to see Madame Pomfrey?"

Snape shook his head.

"Well, then," Dumbledore continued, "since you are so talkative tonight, Severus, do tell me the latest."

Snape sighed in consternation and muttered, "More deaths are to be expected this year..."

"Go on," Dumbledore prodded gently.

Snape sighed again and finally gave a recount of the whole Death Eater meeting. Once he had finished, he felt worn to the ground. He looked at Dumbledore, awaiting further questions, but the Headmaster said nothing. Instead, the old man just stared at Snape with something of a mixture between sadness and concern.

"If that is all, perhaps it is best you retire for the evening, Severus," he said.

"Is that all?" Snape asked.

"Yes," the Headmaster replied tiresomely. "You have told me what I have asked, and it grows ever later. You would do yourself well to get some decent sleep tonight."

"If that is even possible," mumbled Snape, standing up.

Dumbledore shook his head and smiled weakly. "Perhaps one day not too far away it will be possible for you to sleep decently," was all he said.

Snape nodded, not speaking a single word, and left Dumbledore to his thoughts. The Headmaster returned to his bedroom, and just before he fell asleep, he thought of all the things he wished he could have said to Snape, but he had tried to tell the younger wizard time and again how important he was to the Order (and to him), trying to convince the broken man of his true self worth: that he was indeed worthwhile and not so hopeless as he believed himself to be.

The rest of the week passed with much less excitement, although there was the business of preparing for the new school year throughout Hogwarts. Teachers made sure they had all the necessary supplies and that their lesson plans were complete and thorough. Filch, the caretaker, was working overtime cleaning the school from the highest tower to the lowest part of the dungeons. Before long, the students would be arriving, and the welcome feast would be underway.

Back at the Burrow, it was now the night before Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny would be boarding the Hogwarts Express in London and heading for Hogsmeade, from where they would take the "horseless" carriages to the school grounds. Hermione had frantically been checking her supplies over and over the whole day, making sure there was nothing she was forgetting. Her obsession with such pristine organization was driving the rest of the household crazy, especially Ron and Harry, who had both decided that a good ride on their brooms would do them good. For once, they were thankful not to have Hermoine with them. After all, Hermione wasn't good at everything. Flying was far from her best ability.

Dinner had passed rather pleasantly, much to the joy of Mrs. Weasley, and the adolescent wizards and witches were now seated on the floor in Ron's room, discussing the new year at Hogwarts.

"Where have the years gone?" Hermione mused. "Can you believe it was five years ago that we were arriving for our very first time and being nervous beyond belief?"

"Yeah," Ron smirked, "and I recall what a know-it-all you were, Hermione. What a minute. What am I saying? You're still a know-it-all."

Hermione, in mock upset, threw a pillow at Ron, who ducked out of the way just in time to avoid contact with the merciless cotton-stuffed projectile. Harry laughed and shook his head at the two of them. He thought that they would be the perfect couple, although for years, neither one of them would admit it. Harry had watched Ron especially become extremely jealous during their fourth year when Hermione was dating Viktor Krum. Admittingly, Harry wasn't any better when it came to dealing with girls. Both Hermione and Ginny had rolled their eyes on more than one occasion when it came to Harry and Ron's cluelessness regarding the female sex.

"Well, you all get to start your sixth year," remarked Ginny, "but I've got to take O.W.L.s this year. Tell me, are they really that bad?"

"No," replied Hermione matter-of-factly, "you just have to make sure you've prepared properly for them, is all."

"Easy for you to say," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "We're not all Hermione Grangers."

"Oh?" Hermione questioned. "And tell me, what is that supposed to mean?"

"Honestly, girl, you should have been placed in Ravenclaw," Ginny remarked knowingly.

Hermione flushed and hmphed but said nothing. Harry was having too much fun watching his friends, and for some reason, his mind suddenly brought up feelings of being at Grimmauld Place nearly a week prior for the Order meeting. He stopped laughing and looked away from the others, feeling like he didn't belong. Every year at Hogwarts had only proven that Harry's life would become more complicated and endangered, and in the back of his mind, the niggling feeling of knowing the Voldemort would no doubt make himself known yet again ate away at the depths of his consciousness.

Noticing that Harry was no longer smiling, Ron asked, "What's wrong, mate?"

"It's... nothing," Harry muttered.

"You keep saying that," Ginny insisted, "but we won't fall for it, Harry. Come on, spill the beans."

"It's a new year, right? Well, I should be happy, but how can I be happy, knowing that Voldemort will only attack again? Cedric died a year ago, and Sirius died this year. Who will it be this year? Next year? How many more people? How many more years?"

The unanswered questions kept flowing from Harry's mouth desperately, but all his friends could do was listen and stare. Concern was etched clearly across all their faces, and all Harry wanted to do was run away. He didn't want to worry them any longer.

"You know we would never let you face him alone," Hermione replied sincerely.

"Yeah," Ron added, "we've been there before for you and with you, and we would do it again... in a heartbeat, mate."

"Harry," Ginny said, looking at him straight in the eyes, "remember how you saved me during your second year?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, that proves that you are stronger than you think. You were only twelve back then, and you had already defeated the Dark Lord twice before, and you did it again by destroying Tom Riddle's diary. Harry, if anyone can do it, you can. You've got to believe that if you believe nothing else."

Harry smiled slightly and simply said, "Thanks, guys. You're the best."

Before long, Hermione and Ginny left the boys alone in Ron's room, and Ron and Harry talked for a little while longer before Mrs. Weasley knocked on the door and told them to go to sleep, saying that she expected them to be up by eight o'clock the following morning. Ron glumly said yes and blew out the candles, leaving Harry and himself in the darkness. Ron wished Harry a good night and went promptly to bed. From the other bed in the room, which was more like a cot, Harry lay on his side, peering out the window with blurred vision. His glasses had been removed and were resting on the table next to the bed, but still, Harry hadn't yet fallen asleep. He watched as flashes of lightning lit up parts of the sky, and as the rain began to fall, droplets covering the window's glassy surface, Harry wondered about his sixth year and what it would bring.