9Sweat beaded on the sallow skin and a tremble wracked the prone body of the man lying on the floor. Lids slowly fluttered open to reveal black eyes gazing unseeing at the white ceiling. His chest heaved as he took in a shuttering breath and his mind began to return to itself as the visions he had just witnessed attempted to process through his muddled mind. A sharp pain pulled him to his senses and he jerkily grabbed at his forearm, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. He was being summoned and from the way the mark burned he had taken too long and the Dark Lord was beyond pissed at his tardiness.
He uncharacteristically scrambled to his feet, his unsteady legs threatening to give out beneath him and he had to grip the armchair to prevent a tumble back to the ground. The intensity in the mark increased exponentially and he hissed through his teeth. Hurrying to his closet, he grabbed his plain black robes and the white bone mask, donning them quickly before turning on the spot.
He reappeared in a cold room, sconces adorning the walls in intervals, every other one lit. Shadows threw themselves upon the imposing figure seated in the only seat, a throne, and ruby eyes glittered in the sparse lighting. Severus quickly made his way to the bottom of the steps that the throne stood at the top of, bowing with grace. A soft hissing made his eyes dart up and a chill go down his spine. No matter how many times the Dark Lord spoke in the serpent's tongue, it never ceased to put him on edge.
Voldemort's long spidery fingers massaged the top of his familiar's head as her tongue flicked out, tasting the scents in the air, namely that of one potion's master kneeling before them.
$He ssssmellsss confussed and frightened.$
Voldemort nodded, sensing the same emotions through the bond of the Dark Mark. $Yesss.$
Looking at his follower he felt some of the rage diminish but not leave completely. He still had the urge to curse the man for taking so long to answer his summons and his hand itched to raise his yew wand and crucio him. He wasn't a fool, he knew Severus Snape was a highly intelligent man and had successfully played spy to both sides, no doubt due to his insanity over the years causing him to lose faith in his first Master. If he hadn't performed his rituals then he knew that he wouldn't have hesitated to cast the killing curse at the man, presumably before he had even outlived his usefulness.
"My lord?" Severus' voice broke the internal musings. To anyone else, they would have assumed he was assured in his question of why he had been summoned, but Voldemort could feel and see through the façade, the man was beyond exhausted and was fearful of a torture session for displeasing him.
Holding his face in a mask of indifference and barely contained rage Voldemort leaned back in his throne, his hand idly twirling his wand between his fingers. "What, dear Severus, was so important to risk my wrath?"
Snape inhaled a bit deeper than necessary and wiped any emotion from his mind, quickly calculating if he could successfully evade the question from the truth. He had no doubt that he was running on fumes, his mind hadn't had the chance to process what he had seen. He knew the Dark Lord's powers were growing, he was much stronger than when he had first rebirthed but he was also a bit calmer now. He noticed, though he doubted many others did, that he didn't torture needlessly as much as he used to, even before he had been torn into nothing more than a spirit. There also seemed to be a calculating glint in his eyes more often, something that Severus hoped meant that he was becoming saner. If he continued on the same track of mind he had been, then he hoped that his suspicions were true because he missed the charming, powerful man he had been proud to follow. Watching his decent into madness and obsession had hardened him to the fact that he had potentially made the wrong choice, making it easier to betray him to follow the old fool. It hadn't helped that he was wracked with guilt at the time either. He knew that the madness had already been there but it seemed to get even worse as time progressed and it came to a crux the moment he spoke the words of the prophecy that had ruined his life.
Steeling himself for the torture that was sure to come with his answer he spoke in a soft tone, his fatigue showing through. "I meant no disrespect, milord. I was testing a new potion and it had unintended side effects." He suppressed the flinch at the thinly veiled anger he saw in those red eyes and quickly tilted his chin back down so that he was staring at the floor, awaiting hearing those words that would make his entire body spasm with pain. He hoped he would make it back and be able to get to his potion to counter the effects before he passed out.
"You tessssted my potion without notifying me of the progressss?" the threat was evident in the silky voice, a lilting hiss showing his anger.
Knowing now what he was thinking, Severus mentally chastised himself. Of course! How could he forget that he was due to report the progress on the experimental potion that had been requested, read demanded, of him. Now he was definitely in for it, since he had been focusing on his own work. "Of course not, milord. I know to not take what is intended for yourself. I was in a stage in your potion that did not require my immediate watch."
Nagini hissed loudly, causing the man on his knees to give a slight jump, expecting the next sound to have been a crucio leaving the Dark Lord's lips. He mentally berated himself for his slip, he knew better than to show weakness in front of this man, he hated those who were weak. Voldemort however was stopped from giving into the unstable part of himself at the hissed words from his familiar. She was right. He needed to stop and process, not just react to his anger, it was too Gryffindorish. He curbed his urge, shoving the emotion roughly behind his Occulmency shields.
"What is your progress on your task and what potion did you deign to place before my own?" his words barely hid the simmering emotion being pushed down beneath.
"I apologize for my mistake. I was testing a potion I invented to find the location and fate of another," Severus refused to look up, not wanting another reason to anger the powerful man before him. He hated feeling so weak and he cursed himself for letting himself be in the position he was currently in.
"Who?" the demand for an answer was hidden behind a question.
Severus swallowed thickly. "Harry Potter."
"Did it work?"
Severus' head shot up at the question, seeing genuine curiosity in those slit eyes. He couldn't hide the shock he felt, it was too encompassing. "I…. I don't know. The visions it showed were jumbled together, it did not make sense."
"Gather the memories in your pensive and return to me when you have finished. I shall see for myself," with that he waved his hand dismissing the greasy haired man. "Oh and Severus, do not test my patience again. Next time I won't be so lenient."
A pop signaled that he was alone with his familiar once more. A low rumbling emitted from his chest, sounding suspiciously like a growl and he ran spidery fingers over his bald head, a dark scowl gracing his serpentine features. He could no longer be considered fully human, if at all, anymore but he would be damned if he let his instincts and emotions control him. Once upon a time, yes he would have and had, but not anymore. Those rituals were meant to give his mind back the control, push away the urges to kill and maim and indulge in fear without considering if it was the best option. Where had his Slytherin cunning gone? It was what he had clung to and proudly used for so many years. He needed that potion done now, it was the only thing keeping him from pushing back and regaining his true self once more, the only thing that could finally give him a truly clear head for days at a time instead of merely hours or minutes. Not that Severus knew exactly what it was for, he had only told him what was needed for him to successfully create the potion and not an ounce of information more. He may have been his spy, but he was the old fool's too and he couldn't chance secrets he'd kill to keep from being leaked.
He would forgive his follower this one time for putting his desires above his own, but only due to the fact that now he was curious. Something told him that the Potter brat hadn't truly perished even though all the signs said he had. After he was given the pensive he would demand his potion become top priority and sped up. He needed it more than ever, especially if the boy was still out there waiting to come for him. It shouldn't worry him but the damn prophecy lingered in the back of his mind. It had worked against him before and he wasn't taking any chances this time.
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Harry sat debating with himself, mentally moving around what he had witnessed and attempting to come to an educated decision. He had seen how his old friends and allies had taken his supposed death and, while he wanted to believe it was all as it seemed, he knew better than to take what was on the surface as fact. He believed that Remus and Sirius were truly mourning him, he believed Hermione and Ron felt some type of hurt over his loss but to his new senses it didn't feel completely genuine, there was something seriously off. Dumbledore… The thought of the man filled him with contempt and an almost uncontrollable urge to rip his throat out. It was all an act, the emotions the man portrayed were like those of an actor making his grand debut on the stage. With all of his new, well newer since he had learned and accepted them ages ago, knowledge of the man's manipulations and deceit throughout his life it was so much easier to see it for himself when he laid eyes on him. He could feel the waves of magic spread out reaching towards those he spoke to make them comfortable and to feel more inclined to believe his words as truth. It was disgusting.
Fragmented thoughts reached his consciousness and he had to push them away with annoyance. Since his return he had known he wasn't whole, that at least one possible consequence of returning to the Earthly plane from where he had been reborn had taken hold. His mind was cracked, though only slightly, it was enough for foreign emotion and thoughts to take hold so suddenly it made his head whirl and took vast amounts of self control to push it back. He had a sneaking suspicion of what was causing it as it didn't fully feel like himself. He knew he had new urges, as the creature he had become was partial to instincts, and he had been warned. In the Nether plane they were like a passing chill, there and quickly forgotten, easy to remedy. Here, however, they would be more difficult to control and if his mind had broken completely, he would have gone mad until he satisfied them, no longer having self-control. But he knew these thoughts of bloodlust weren't it, there was too much anger and rage attached, not the sense of rightness and the persuasive allure of fulfilling the need, the promise of bliss at indulging his nature.
He needed a clear head so the rash actions that he used to be prone to did not once more rear its ugly head. Did he save those of the light and once more return to being their weapon, though he would be more inclined to doing it from the shadows and continuing to have them believe he was deceased. Or did he turn to Voldemort and manipulate or force him to see reason and to follow a less destructive path. Would that even work? Did he even care enough about this corrupt world to fix or save it? Decisions, decisions. He knew he had to first witness the changes he had been told happened to the Dark Lord before he could make a proper decision. No more was he going to go off of someone else's information, even if he did trust those back at what he now considered home. There was always a chance that they didn't have all of the facts, it wasn't like they had witnessed the events first-hand and perhaps the information had gotten skewed along the way. He would have to see for himself.
Glancing at the locket he had safely in his possession, he nodded in silent musings. He would see how his once, possibly still, sworn enemy had changed and continue to collect the Horcruxes. If nothing else, they could be used to tip the scales either way. He didn't feel any remorse over the thought of blackmail and he would not hesitate to use it as such if the situation arose. He had to find the rest. He had been given general areas for them, though if Eritrea was supposed to have given him that little detail he was unsure of, but he appreciated it nonetheless. The logical move would be to gather the dark trinkets first, but he so wanted to sate his curiosity and it was liberating to not have anyone telling him that he couldn't. Everything was his choice now and he was going to start doing whatever he wanted. Screw the consequences, if he was perfectly honest with himself, he was going to have fun seeing what he could stir up with no one the wiser.
A sinister smirk of anticipation plastered itself on his face, and he felt for the tentative bond that he could now recognize, finding easily where Voldemort was residing. Calling the shadows to wrap around him like it was second nature, he disappeared.
A/N: I was intending to have this chapter be longer but I know it has been a long time since my last update. Life, once again, got in the way of my writing. Thank you for everyone who has kept faith in me! Hope you enjoy :)