Amid the wind and snow, a man and a woman in black robes stood facing each other.
"Severus, did you co alone?" Bellatrix stood on tiptoe, trying to peer past Snape's back. "No one else?"
Snape sneered. "Soone else? Who exactly do you expect?"
Bellatrix tilted her head at him. "Perhaps Harry Potter? Or Dumbledore?"
Snape raised his wand, pointing it directly at her. "Bellatrix, I'm beginning to suspect Azkaban has made you even more foolish."
"A man whose head is full of honey."
"A boy with the surna Potter."
"You think I would bring them here? What for? To host a Snape's Greatest Enemies Reunion?"
Bellatrix's face hardened, and her tone beca serious. "Severus, watch your tone. Don't forget who you're speaking to."
"To a stray dog who just crawled out of Azkaban?" Snape countered without backing down. "Bellatrix, you are not who you were ten years ago, and neither am I."
"Snape." Bellatrix raised her wand as well.
With a slight flick of his wrist, Snape caused the snow beneath them to explode. Several thick vines shot up, coiling tightly around Bellatrix before she even had ti to react. She was instantly bound, her limbs locked in place.
"I rember you used to be a smart woman." Snape strode forward, tilting her chin up with his wand, his tone mocking. "So why, after ten years, have you beco so much dumber?"
"Bellatrix, dear Bellatrix."
"Did the Dentors shove sothing into your head?"
"I told you—you are not who you were ten years ago. And neither am I."
"Recognize the situation."
Bellatrix stared at him in shock.
This speed—this level of spellcasting—this was nothing like the Severus Snape she had once known.
"Take to see the Dark Lord." Snape flicked his wand, and the snowy vines shattered. Bellatrix fell hard onto the ground. "Potter and Dumbledore have told many things. Now, the Dark Lord needs ."
Bellatrix bit her lip, not nodding, but lifting her wand instead.
"Now, Severus, swear to that you did not bring anyone else here."
Snape did not hesitate. His wand clashed against hers. "Of course, I swear it."
Their magic intertwined, forming a pillar of light that surged upward.
"Severus, swear to your loyalty to the Dark Lord."
Snape laughed coldly. "Bellatrix, have you already forgotten what I just said? Even a troll can rember sothing for a minute, yet you cannot?"
"My loyalty is for the Dark Lord to judge."
"Can you speak on his behalf?"
Bellatrix took a deep breath, silent now.
She locked eyes with Snape.
Those cold, ebony eyes—perfectly in tune with the winter surrounding them—bore into her, invading her mind, making her instinctively fearful.
Her impression of Severus Snape began to shift.
The sullen, misanthropic young man fresh out of Hogwarts was gone.
In his place stood a formidable and terrifying presence.
The youngest Potions Master in history.
No wonder the Dark Lord had once praised him as the most talented of his Death Eaters.
"Severus, you've changed." Bellatrix inhaled sharply.
"No kidding." Snape spat. "Even a troll would change after ten years—so of course I have."
He lowered his wand.
The mingling magical energy between them slowly dissipated.
"This is no ti for delays. Take to see the Dark Lord."
Snape gazed down at her with the sa detached look he would give to the jars of wriggling, grotesque creatures on his potion shelf.
Bellatrix took another deep breath before pulling herself up from the snow.
Stepping aside, she raised her wand and tapped lightly against the invisible barrier. Magic rippled outward, revealing a decrepit manor, its exterior buried under layers of snow.
"Go on in," she said, gesturing him forward.
Snape stepped through.
He moved through the courtyard, into the grand hall, and up to the second floor, stopping before an ornate door.
"The Dark Lord is inside," Bellatrix murmured after knocking softly.
Snape pushed the door open and entered.
He had been to Malfoy Manor many tis, but never to the master bedroom.
The room did not resemble a bedroom at all.
There was no bed.
Instead, at the center of the space was a large, white porcelain basin, filled with a pitch-black potion.
Voldemort lay inside it, only his handso head visible above the surface.
Hearing the door, he opened his eyes.
"Severus." Voldemort's tone carried a hint of pleasant surprise. "You arrived so quickly. That is good news."
Snape stepped forward, kneeling at the edge of the basin. He pressed his lips to its rim.
"My dear Lord, upon hearing your call, I naturally rushed here at once."
"You seem loyal." Voldemort closed his eyes again. "But my dear godson, Barty Crouch Jr.—the very one who orchestrated my resurrection—claims that you cannot be trusted. What do you think of that?"
Snape nodded. "Clearly, he has a brain."
"In matters of great importance, all unstable elents must be eliminated."
"And obviously, I am an unstable elent."
Voldemort nodded slightly. "Is that so?"
"But I am furious," Snape continued calmly. "Because he dares to question my loyalty to you."
Voldemort said nothing.
Snape went on, "Of course, my loyalty is for you alone to determine."
A slow, thin smile spread across Voldemort's lips. "Your hand was severed by Potter. Why haven't you reattached it?"
Snape responded without hesitation. "I am awaiting your grace, my Lord. My left hand bore the mark you bestowed upon . Potter destroyed it utterly. Reattaching it carelessly would be a disgrace to your honor."
"For all these years, even while under Dumbledore's wing, you have remained loyal to ?" Voldemort lifted his remaining hand from the basin, resting it on the edge. "You are very loyal, Severus."
Snape's expression remained unchanged. "Is it not the duty of a servant to be loyal to his master?"
"All these years, I have never forgotten you."
"I am willing to give you everything."
Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Then kill Potter for !"
"My Lord, I already am," Snape said softly.
Voldemort's gaze snapped toward him.
"Dumbledore and Potter trust ," Snape explained. "They allow to tutor Potter privately. Under my guidance, he no longer drinks ordinary potions. Instead, he consus a stronger, more effective variant—one with significant side effects and long-term damage."
"From this mont onward, even if he stops drinking it, he will not live past twenty-five."
"If he continues? His death will co even faster."
Voldemort arched a brow. "A special potion?"
Snape nodded, pulling out a vial from his robes. It was an improved version of the Thunder Potion. Uncorking it, a volatile scent filled the air, and the violent surge of magic within made even Voldemort's expression shift slightly.
He could tell how destructive this potion was—how much damage it would inflict on the human body.
"A potion like this... Potter actually drinks it?" Voldemort asked.
Snape shook his head imdiately. "Of course not, my dear Lord. This is not poison—it is simply a more powerful potion. Last year, Potter used it to easily slay a dragon."
"And Dumbledore?" Voldemort asked, voice sharp.
Snape replied coolly, "Dumbledore is far smarter than Potter. He would never drink sothing like this."
"Does he not suspect you?" Voldemort pressed.
Snape tucked the vial back into his robes. "Of course not. This was Potter's request. He craves more power, more effective magic. He hungers for strength."
"My Lord, you know how empty-headed Gryffindors are—re trolls in wizard's robes. And Potter, being Jas Potter's son, has inherited everything from his father. His looks, his eyes... and his brain. So talent, but a foolish and arrogant Gryffindor."
Snape paused slightly, slowing his speech.
"This is all I can do. After our last duel, Dumbledore has been on guard, wary that I might try sothing against Potter again."
"And Potter... he does have so skill."
Voldemort's tone softened as well. "No, this is enough. You are far more useful than many others. At least, while I was gone, you were not enjoying life—you were still planning for my return."
"My dear Severus, I must apologize on behalf of my godson. He should not have doubted your loyalty."
Snape lowered his head. "My Lord, not everyone can maintain your level of wisdom at all tis."
Voldemort rose from the dark potion bath, his bare body exposed before Snape.
"Now, Severus, take a look at my wounds. I trust in your skill as a Potions Master."
Snape swept his eyes over Voldemort.
So wounds were real, so were not.
Without a word, he took out a set of potions and placed them beside him. Then, he waved his wand, dispelling the more obvious false wounds without acknowledging Voldemort's test of his perception.
By nightfall—
The poison had been cleansed from Voldemort's body. His complexion was no longer deathly pale but had taken on a healthier, almost ruddy hue.
He led Snape into the grand hall and summoned the remaining Death Eaters.
There were not many—only a dozen or so.
But Barty Crouch Jr. was not among them.
This... was not all of the Death Eaters.
"What are you looking at, Severus?" Bellatrix narrowed her eyes and shrieked, "Are you counting heads?"
"I'm rely looking for Crouch—the one who slandered my loyalty," Snape replied bluntly.
Voldemort waved a hand dismissively. "My dear godson has other matters to attend to. He is preparing a grand surprise for —a great gift."
As he spoke, he cast Snape a aningful look and said softly,
"After Christmas, at the start of the new term, I plan to make a move against Hogwarts. Severus, as the Head of Slytherin House, you will assist when the ti cos."
"Of course. Your will is my life."
Snape bowed deeply and answered with solemn devotion.
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