The next morning on Monday, Snape stood glaring in the doorway to Lab 3, where he had been working every week day and sometimes on weekends for the past two months since graduation. He thought he was seeing things--or hoped so.

What the hell were Aurors doing in the Potions laboratory, anyway?

His stomach lurched when the tall man in navy blue robes who had been talking to Jigger, the old and wizened supervisor of his lab, looked up to meet his gaze. Snape scowled and glared back with all the venom he could muster. He hated the nervous tension that built up whenever he met Redwood's hawk-like eyes. Viridian stood like a shadow(or lapdog, as Snape always thought of him) next to his partner and never looked up at Snape's entrance.

Jigger followed Redwood's glance and gestured with one withered hand for Snape to enter. Ancient and shriveled, Jigger hardly spoke if he could help it. He used to be a prestigious Potions professor, and had taught Snape's own teacher, Zabini; he'd been retired, but had come back at the behest of the Ministry when the crises began. Snape had been trying to arrive at the lab earlier than Jigger ever since he began working under him, but never succeeded--he was now beginning to wonder if the old wizard actually lived in the lab.

Snape stepped slowly into the laboratory, never taking his eyes off Redwood as if the Auror might pounce on him any second. He was just crossing over to a worktable at one side away from Jigger, Redwood, and Viridian when Redwood said "Thank you, Mr. Jigger," evidently ending the conversation. He then turned in Snape's direction.

"Could we have a few words with you, Mr. Snape?"

"Agent Redwood." Snape finished his walk over to the worktable and stood before it with his back deliberately turned to the Auror. He checked the five-stage distillation chain that had been distilling overnight. He detached the final receiver and held it up to the light, still without looking at Redwood. "You and I are in different departments, and I am not under your command. I think I may safely assume then, that I am under no obligation to do as you say."

"Yes you are, for my Department's investigation needs." Redwood's voice was hard, a clear warning not to mess with an Auror.

Snape compared the precisely separated phlegm in the final flask with the pure alcohol, satisfied that his idea for automatic stage-by-stage distillation had worked. It was Zabini who had taught him the alchemical methods in potion brewing, and the knowledge was surprisingly useful in the cutting-edge professional world, where impurities and irregularities in ingredient preparation were not tolerated. He was already months ahead of the other new employees who had to be taught alchemy from the bottom up. "I have already given full cooperation on your investigation of my mother and brother," he replied almost absently, lost in thoughts of pure alcohol extracts and plant salts.

He was rudely shaken out of his reverie by Redwood's words: "I know. This time we're here to investigate you."

Snape spun around, nearly dropping the phial of pure alcohol in his hand. "On what grounds?" He hissed. He didn't like the look of this at all.

"You know better than I do. Now, please."

For a moment they stood glaring, eyes locked over the row of cauldrons in the center of the room. Jigger grew visibly more nervous and Viridian stood like stone with eyes downcast. "Mr. Jigger," said Redwood without taking his eyes off Snape's, "You may go. You will be notified if anything unusual comes up."

Snape watched Jigger turn away to leave his own lab. Thanks for all the support, he thought gloomily. He wondered if he was the only one to think that the power of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was far out of hand. It was no wonder Sirius Black had joined it, seeing the indiscriminate power the department wielded. He made his way around the cauldrons to where the Aurors stood, hoping to get this over with as soon as possible before the other workers in the lab started showing up.

"Mr. Snape, have there been any unusual or suspicious persons trying to contact you or solicit information from you lately?"

Not counting you? Snape thought sardonically, but said nothing as he shook his head. It was true, since he had yet to report anything to Rookwood, the Unspeakable. He met the suspicious glint in the Auror's eyes calmly, hoping he could be as calm later on when he would have to lie.

"Any unusual activities on the part of friends or acquaintances?" Redwood went on.

Out of the corner of his eye Snape saw a co-worker of the lab, a small witch whose name escaped him, appear at the doorway. She paused to look at the Aurors and Snape, then headed for a cauldron in the corner.

Snape shook his head, no.

He wondered if Redwood was on firm legal ground to question him this way, then remembered that Redwood was the sort who couldn't care less. Besides, now that the co-workers in the lab were arriving he wanted to keep this quick and quiet.

Redwood raised an eyebrow and Snape saw his eyes follow the witch as well. "And now, Mr. Snape, I'd like to conduct a search of your belongings." Snape could tell the slightly raised tone of voice was partly for his coworker to hear.

"Do you have a warrant?" Snape didn't have anything suspicious with him in the laboratory--he wasn't stupid--but it galled him to let the man search his things without a fight.

"No. Ministry workers are subject to security checks as an Auror of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement deems appropriate," answered Redwood as he crossed over to the worktable where Snape had been checking his distillation chain. Viridian followed him silently, and after a moment, so did Snape. "Perhaps you should have read the employment contract more carefully before joining the Ministry, Mr. Snape."

Without waiting for any further words from Snape, Redwood pulled out a drawer and started rifling through the things inside--neat notes on experiments, a worn auto-recording quill, spare test tubes, an old edition of Potions Monthly, articles torn out of The Modern Alchemist. Next to him Viridian patiently recorded the findings.

The other workers in the lab chose this moment to begin pouring in in earnest, pausing at the doorway to stare at the sight of Aurors standing over the new worker's table, then going about their work with sidelong glances.

Redwood and Viridian went through all the drawers thoroughly, casting the Veriform spell to check for transfigured objects, detection spells of all kinds, and finite incatatem. At one point, at a murmured order from Redwood, Viridian even did a Summoning Charm on Snape's person for concealed objects.

Snape stood, silent and seething, as he watched the other workers of Lab Three pretending to be fascinated with their respective alembics and cauldrons while sneaking glances at the proceeds of the search. By the time the Aurors were done, some of them weren't even pretending to work anymore.

"Finished?" Snape asked, trying to ungrit his teeth.

"For now," Redwood replied as Viridian closed his notepad in the background. "Thank you for your cooperation. Please do not hesitate to inform us of any unusual occurrences in the future."

The Aurors' professional cordiality only served to make Snape feel murderous. He did not stand aside for them as they headed for the doorway, and the navy of their robes mingled briefly with the white of his laboratory robes as they passed. Redwood met his eyes for the briefest second with hard, challenging eyes as he brushed by; Viridian kept his eyes down as if in shame and did not look up.

Snape stood looking at their retreating forms as they disappeared out the doorway and turned a corner. The wheels in his head were turning. Even if they did suspect him they couldn't have been expecting any meaningful results from such a cursory interrogation and search. This little sideshow was clearly meant to send a message. Perhaps you should have read the employment contract more carefully before joining the Ministry. Translation: Get the hell out of here, you don't belong here.

He could feel the furtive stares of the others in the lab like small pinpricks--small for now, but the kind of thing that could press him to leave. Reporting for harassment was not an option, though, for the last thing he needed was to have Redwood trot out all the reasons for the search before an open committee. Of course, the Auror knew that all too well. He and Redwood knew each other knew each other better than either of them cared to, and that was the problem.

Well then, we'll see who will be the one to leave. Slowly, without taking his eyes of the doorway, he brushed off his robes where the Aurors' robes had touched them. He had made a mistake when he helped Redwood get his present job. It was a mistake he would have to undo.

It was after the question-and-search incident that Snape realized why the Death Eater ranks had been so slow in contacting him--Ministry workers were particularly vulnerable to discovery, and it was better for new employees to settle in without any cause for suspicion.

Of course, Snape reflected sourly as he Apparated into the grounds of Snape Manor, the Death Eaters hadn't taken into account Aurors with the persistence of the average leech. After the question-and-search incident in the Ministry he had gone through a temporary suspension of his Apparition license for no reason whatsoever, his experiment application being turned down--and, of course, his automatic distillation chain was dissembled without ever being implemented.

It was obvious who was behind all this, and why--Redwood was so tireless and consistent in his efforts to pressure Snape to leave the Ministry, Snape wondered if he ought not to be flattered by all the attention. He very nearly might have been if he weren't so thoroughly sick and tired of having Redwood on his back through half his school years, and now at the Ministry...and of course, there was the night of his torture...he felt his jaws tighten at the very thought. He quickly reminded himself that all this was futile at the moment; there was nothing he could do against an Auror on his own.

He glanced up disinterestedly up at the gloomy, sagging form of his ancestral home in the failing light. Desolate and unkempt, it had changed little since the sixteenth century when it was first built. Snape vaguely supposed he needed to do something about the derelict mansion, but as of now he had neither the funds nor the time. He made his way towards the gates overgrown with its unseemly growth of ivy.

"Caeco!"

Snape felt his head whirl as the whole world went suddenly and completely black. Loss of balance and instinct sent him heavily to the ground. He tried to open his eyes and look around, only to realize they were already open. The Blinding Curse! Swearing softly, he fumbled with a trembling hand for his wand as he forced himself to be calm. They're right to treat you like worthless rubbish if you panic now. Shape up, you've been through worse. He could hear the dry dirt being kicked up as curses struck the ground around him. Sharp pains shot through his side as one struck, and he lost feeling in a leg when still another hit him. Stranded alone in a lightless world with only pain, the sounds of approaching attack, and the mad beating of his heart, he firmly ignored the fear threatening to overwhelm him and pointed the wand at himself.

"Videre videlicet."

He lay still on his stomach a few more moments as his sight gradually returned to show him trees, sparse grass, and wand-beams striking the ground uncomfortably close to him. He quickly rolled away, the numb leg dragging uselessly along, and sat up to see his assailants--who were wily enough to stay out of Disarming Spell range--for the first time before returning their favor with interest.

The two black cloaked, hooded and masked attackers paused as a few of the hexes glanced close by. This gave Snape time to perform a countercurse on his leg. He stood up so suddenly that his still-numb leg nearly bowled him over, but he somehow managed to fling a few more curses and half-run, half-tumble for the cover of a grove of trees.

He peered out from between two firs as he took deep breaths to steady himself, supporting himself against a trunk. His wand was at the ready. Deterring the masked figures' approach with a few Limping Hexes gained him just enough time to conjure water onto the ground between them and freeze it. Knowing it was only a makeshift defense, he thought hard about his present situation. Why was he being attacked? Much as he would love to think he was important enough for someone to be after him, that could hardly be the case. And the assailants, despite their take-no-prisoners attitude, hadn't just disarmed or stunned him from the start and gotten it over with. Why attack someone so suddenly without taking advantage of surprise with a Stunner or expelliarmus, and why use curses that had countercurses?

Something clicked. As the assailants cleared away the ice and began their approach he saw there was only one answer: He was being tested. The Death Eaters were contacting him, and first they were trying to see what he was made of. A feral smile came to his lips as he saw that his anticipations were finally being realized, if in an unexpected manner. Well, then, he had already shown presence of mind in an emergency and knowledge of curses and countercurses. It was now time to show his cunning.

He watched as one assailant fell back behind a covering of bushes to cover his companion from behind. The other, rather shorter and stouter, came forward making use of what few places of concealment there were. Snape leaned around the tree trunk he was hiding behind and responded to the curses coming his way with his own, concentrating on the one who was approaching him directly. He ducked back behind his tree as a Searing Curse struck away its bark, then leaned back out to fire a Stunner. The shorter one caught it squarely and fell down unconscious. One down, one to go. He now needed the right moment to make the remaining one break cover.

The moment came. When the man was about ten yards from the grove where Snape was hiding, a Stunner grazed the bole of the tree he was standing behind and went past him. Snape, however, gave a short shout and fell to the ground, taking care to have the trees mostly conceal him. With slitted eyes he watched the bush where the remaining assailant was hiding. He waited in the sudden silence.

Cautiously the masked wizard came out from behind the bush to head for him, wand out in front of him. Snape showed no sign of movement at his approach. And then, for one short moment, the masked wizard's wand lowered as he came closer and into plain view.

"Stupefy!"

The assailant gave one startled movement but he had no time to react before he crumpled to the ground in a heap. Snape stayed still for a moment, half sitting up propped on one elbow, the other hand aiming his wand squarely, heart still pounding. It was nearly completely dark now. Very slowly he stood up, wand still aimed at the prone figure. His two opponents had fallen not far from each other and he fired a Stunner at each of them just for good measure.

"Accio," he said, and for the first time realized he was slightly out of breath. He caught the two wands as they flew into his hand and put them in his pocket. Then he approached them warily, never letting his wand waver from them, and kicked first one then the other onto their backs. The blank black masks stared up at him from heads lolling listlessly on the ground. Who were these goons, anyway? He was just about to bend down to tear off the shorter one's mask when his ears caught a faint rustle. It was almost indistinguishable from the natural sounds around him, but he was familiar enough with his surroundings to know it was nothing of the sort. He straightened back up slowly.

"You can come out now," he called into the air. "Did you find my performance satisfactory?"

Then came a sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise after the tension of the past fifteen minutes--a leisurely clapping of hands.

"Quite, Mr. Snape," an amused drawl came from the same direction in the darkness as the applause stopped. "I must say, I am quite impressed. Now if only you hadn't neglected the final moment of caution."

Before Snape could answer the unpleasantly familiar voice, a faint popping sound came from behind him and the tip of a wand pressed into his back. "Don't move," grunted a dull, thick voice.

"Expelliarmus," the first drawling voice said lazily. Snape's wand flew out of his hand in a high arc, straight into the hand of someone strolling into view. White-blond hair gleamed in the moonlight and a pale, pointed face was outlined in the sharp contrast of white moonlight and deep shadow. An elegant cloak swirled in the autumn wind as the figure came to a pause before him.

"Mr. Malfoy," said Snape. He grit his teeth--of course, this was almost to be expected. Malfoy had something of a score to settle with him, after all. This "test" was just the sort of thing an arrogant Malfoy would do, enjoying the sight of an impertinent boy set up against odds, then showing exactly who was in charge if said impertinent boy actually made the cut. Snape keenly felt the wand at his back, no doubt held by either a Crabbe or a Goyle, well-known henchmen for the Malfoys.

"As I said," said Malfoy, clearly savoring the moment of perceived victory, "I was very impressed with your--performance, despite the youthful lack of discretion at the last moment." And with the sneering intonation of that one word, youthful, Malfoy made it perfectly clear that Snape was nothing but a yammering young pup. Snape set his teeth, determined not to give Malfoy the pleasure of showing his discomfiture, concentrating instead on how much Malfoy looked like an inbred Persian cat purring over cream. Trust Malfoy to take his moment of success and turn it into total humiliation.

"As a matter of fact, I believe you are ready to go on your first mission." Malfoy held the younger wizard's wand with one hand and tapped it against the palm of his other hand, still looking extremely smug. "Await further orders--it won't be long. Crabbe, let him go." The wand was lowered from his back, and Snape reflected as Malfoy carelessly tossed him his wand that the world was just full of bastards no matter which side of the fence one looked. The pain in his side, forgotten during the flurry of activity, flared back to become a steady ache.

Evidently finished with him, Malfoy stepped over to where the masked figures still lay. "Crabbe, Goyle, let us wake our dear invigilators." Snape watched silently as the two wizards bent clumsily over and Ennervated his defeated opponents, who came to slowly at first, then scrambled up as if bewildered. They caught sight of Snape and looked away.

Malfoy turned around to look at him and a slow smile came over his face. "Ah, Mr. Snape, you were about to unmask them, were you not?" He then turned to the masked assailants. "Take off your masks," he said. They hesitated, and Malfoy repeated the order. "He would have unmasked you in the first place if I had not stopped him, so it's only fair, my dear associates."

Hesitantly they reached up and untied the cords behind their heads, then slowly lowered the masks while giving each other sidelong glances.

Snape looked at Rosier's face first, and then Wilkes's. "You-"

"We shall leave good friends to converse, then," Malfoy said smugly. "Come along, Crabbe, Goyle." The three of them Disapparated and Snape was left alone with Rosier and Wilkes.

"You-" he tried to say again, but Rosier cut him off.

"We had an order, Severus," he spat. "Don't even start on loyalty or any such rubbish. We had an order and we weren't about to disobey." He glared sullenly while Wilkes started to clench and unclench a hand, a nervous habit.

"An order," Snape said softly. "From Lucius Malfoy?"

Neither of them answered, and Snape drew his own conclusions. Yes, Malfoy would send him the message that he could use Snape's own friends--for lack of a better word--against him.

"And don't think I balked at it, either," Rosier went on. "Evan," Wilkes said in a small voice, but Rosier ignored him. "Let's not start pretending you and I ever liked each other, all right?"

"I won't," Snape said, calmly meeting Rosier's glare. He then took their wands out of his pocket to hand them to the respective owners. "You had your own score to settle. Give it up, Evan--you know you can't beat me, not even using Daniel here as bait." He was satisfied to see Wilkes squirm at this and look at Rosier.

"Keep telling yourself that, Snape." Rosier's voice was heavy with barely repressed anger. "Brag on until you don't have even that." His eyes flashed as he turned away. "Come on," he said to Wilkes. Snape could see Wilkes hesitate for a moment, but he followed Rosier nonetheless. Such was the power of habit, or of insecurity. Some people really were born sycophants, it seemed.

Snape watched them go, then entered the gate of his home. He was finally on his way, and the lessons to learn were not so hard after all.

True to Malfoy's word, it really was not long before the first assignment came. It was Lestrange who told him when the gang met in his house--ostensibly school friends getting together, of course, but they took care of other business in these meetings as well.

"You have an assignment, Severus," he said after dinner and their first game of Exploding Snap.

The others turned to look at him. "What?" Snape asked, looking up from his cards.

"I know it's very soon. It seems Mr. Malfoy has been impressed--very impressed." Lestrange took an old, worn pocketwatch out of his robes, and Snape noted it had stopped at ten thirty-three. "Your Portkey. It activates tomorrow evening at the time the watch indicates." He didn't need to say anything more. Wordlessly Snape took it and put it in one of his own pockets.

As the game resumed he looked around at the discomfort around the table, realizing he must be the first in his gang to be assigned a mission. Rosier looked sourly into his cards, barely taking notice when he mishandled them and set them off in his hands; Wilkes seemed to be in one of his confused, futile tempers, while even Avery lost his slick mask for a moment; Lestrange's lean face looked troubled, and Mei-lin was as unreadable as stone. Malfoy, ever willing to eliminate rivals as well as enemies, could well be trying to disrupt this circle subtly. Snape knew, however, that this was a good chance for him to get a head start ahead of wealthy and well-connected Lestrange and Avery.

The second game ended quickly when Snape lost to everyone hands down, at which even Rosier cracked a smile. "So, do you have any idea what kind of mission it is?" Snape asked Lestrange casually in the slightly lighter atmosphere.

"Not really. Just something about a Snape finishing off the Snapes' job." Lestrange replied. Snape didn't push for details--it was definitely something he could work on to find something for the Unspeakable.

"I do believe your family's sacrifice figured in this," Mei-lin said gently. "Use the chance well, Severus."

Before he could think about this he lashed out in a knee-jerk reaction to irritation. "Have I ever misused a chance, Mei-lin?" He said scornfully. "Perhaps I'm not the one you should be worrying about," he continued, with a derisive glance in Lestrange's direction.

"Look here, Severus--" Lestrange began indignantly, but Mei-lin put a hand on his arm.

"I don't worry about Alan, Severus," she said, looking straight at Lestrange. "I don't have to, because I have complete confidence in him."

Manipulative bitch, Snape thought as he watched Lestrange virtually melt and trying not to show it while Rosier and Wilkes grinned to themselves. Yet there was something about Mei-lin's quiet, unwavering self-possession that kept the group focussed, and which Snape found oddly comforting. He realized now that she had been trying to placate the others when she mentioned his family; if there was anyone else in the group who could look into Malfoy's bowels and see his intentions it was Mei-lin, manipulative bitch or not.

They chatted some more into the evening, the cheery fire warming the tastefully luxurious interior of the living room, glowing golden on spotless walls and the gold-bordered ceiling. After that something about curses came up and it was a troop into Lestrange's magnificent library, navigating around expensive-looking mahogany furniture and staring at the shiny gold-inlaid leather spines of books while Lestrange and Avery launched an involved discussion on the use of adverbs in curses. They shut up, though, when Snape shortly reminded Lestrange that the T at the end of videlicet wasn't silent. He bit back a comment on what a shame it was Lestrange couldn't buy a brain with all that family money--Alan had already proved himself a valuable source of information this evening, and he didn't want to alienate the man. He took his leave amiably(for him) and Apprated home.

Later that night, hunched over his desk in his ill-lit and dusty room, he tiredly pushed away the book of newspaper clippings he had been perusing. Since his third year in school he had kept clippings of newspaper articles of interest, particularly on incidents where his mother and brother had been involved or had probably been involved.

Through the night he had been searching for a job they hadn't finished.

As he thought from the beginning there was only one unfinished job, and that was their very last one. With all the others there were no survivors, dead of curses, hemorrhage, hanging, dismemberment... Juno and Septimius Snape had been competent. Creative, too. It looked like their service had no little to do with his getting an assignment so early, after all. He drew his conclusion--the targets for tomorrow's assignment were among the survivors of the graduation party that the Snapes had attacked two months ago. This narrowed the targets to three families, two wizard families and a Muggle one called the Kosgroves or something. He vaguely remembered Michael Kosgrove, a Ravenclaw in his year, another Mudblood over whom he had clashed with James Potter's Muggle-loving thugs. Most likely the Kosgrove's family was the target here, not the wizard ones, since new recruits on probation usually cut their teeth on some Muggle-killing. That was definitely enough to report to Rookwood about.

Of course, this was a card he would use to his advantage with the Death Eaters as well. The Ministry would no doubt take precautions against the event, but he, knowing this, would prevent the Death Eaters with him from being arrested without letting on that he knew anything. Besides, it was likely that the failure of the mission would be on the leader's head, not on a trainee like himself. No one would be hurt, not even the target family. He smirked, realizing he was already getting into the spy mentality of avoiding confrontation and seeking profit.

He wasn't entirely sure that the Ministry considered him valuable enough not to ship him off to Azkaban if they caught him, which gave him all the more reason to avoid arrest. And at any rate this incident would increase his worth as a spy.

He was well aware that this was a dangerous game he was about to play, but the rewards were all the greater because of that. If anyone could pull this off, he could. He had decided he could use both sides to his profit and that assessment was already turning out to be true.

A slight rustle came from the desk before him, and he looked up to see that the pages of the book of newspaper clippings had shifted to the first page. The photograph had been rather corrupted--he couldn't imagine the real Lucius Malfoy swinging from a banner dead drunk, for instance--but he recognized it as the first newspaper clipping he had made in his third year at Hogwarts. The banner in the image, sagging from the weight of Malfoy in the picture, still proclaimed the founding of the International Society of Wizard Genealogy. It was the article that had first told him of the pending darkness and now he was standing near the thick of it, ready to take the plunge.

There was a movement on the edge of the photograph, and Snape's breath caught in his throat as he saw a face that he, for a crazy moment, thought was his own. "Idiot," he muttered to himself as he saw it was Septimius's image entering the picture, looking just as stiff and arrogant as in life. He watched the figure moving around for a few more moments, then put a hand over the picture as he looked away.

I'll never be like you. He thought as he closed the book, his face still turned away. For someone so intelligent, his brother was a fool for being so completely loyal to one side. Loyalty--a fool's byword, nothing more. Survival and profit would be the only concrete things in the years to come, and Snape had every intention of having both. He drew out a piece of parchment and started writing his first report for Rookwood. A desolate wind was blowing outside when he finally rose and went to bed.

He portkeyed on top of a wooded hill, a small, very neatly kept house standing under him. The shadows of the trees mingled with the black expanse under the canopy of leaves, but he could see the house clearly, lit up as it was against the backdrop of the more distant lights coming from a village or small town. So this family lived apart from the other Muggles. This was good for the task at hand, though a Silencing or Muffling Charm around the grounds might be advisable--

He stopped himself, remembering that there would be Aurors about and that the plan was to escape before completing the mission, preferably before even entering the house. Still there was no harm in planning ahead, he supposed.

"Lumos."

Aiming his wand-light at the ground so as not to risk it being seen, he slowly scanned the gloom around him for the Death Eaters who would also be in on this delightful little night excursion. A black, stooped figure moved into his line of sight, looking as if the night itself had congealed to take form of a man. Snape stood still, right hand holding out his wand, as the figure approached him along the beam of light to come to a stand just before him.

"Severus Snape?" A smooth, oily voice asked from behind a faceless black mask.

Snape nodded silently, suddenly self-conscious at having his face exposed this way. For all he knew this masked man might be an Auror or Hit Wizard. But no, chances were he would already have been picked off for questioning if that were the case.

"Vili Nott. How marvelous it is to meet the brother of one who has fallen for the cause." The wizard put out his left hand to grasp Snape's left forearm. Recalling the salutation from the old days at Snape Manor, Snape gripped the man's forearm back in turn and released the grip a second after Nott did.

Nott put a hand into his robes, then took out a piece of folded fabric. "Here is your mask. Wear it well, Snape, in the Lord's service. Should you be disloyal to him or act to the detriment of the Cause, a wrath such as you cannot imagine shall befall you, and--"

Snape tuned him out as he put the mask on, feeling the unabrasive yet firm feeling of it against his face. In a few moments, evidently done with the melodrama, Nott waved a hand into the shadows from which two more figures emerged. Nott strode forward without looking at them further, and the three of them followed him towards the edge of the woods that covered the hill.

Snape was uneasy about going in this early--he had thought they would at least wait until the lights went off in the house. He looked at the other two whom Nott had not bothered to introduce, probably for security reasons. The one on his left was of a big, brutish build, and the on his right and slightly ahead of him was of average height and build with a lock of bright blond hair spilling out from under his hood. Snape knew he was trying to distract himself from his steadily growing nervousness as he gave the two derisive nicknames in his mind--the Brute and Goldilocks.

It was when they were nearly out of the cover of the woods that Snape spoke up. The oppressive apprehension had been growing in him until he couldn't stand it anymore. The distance before them and the house was about as far as a ward built on short notice could stretch. He blurted out to Nott, though in a whisper:

"Sir, shouldn't we be checking for defensive wards?"

"Defensive wards?" Sneered the other wizard. "Muggles live here."

"Yes, and a wizard," Snape answered, careful to keep his voice respectful. He didn't want to give the impression of insubordinance but he had to insist. He didn't want to get caught in some trap spell and be waiting for Aurors or Hit Wizards to appear.

"Wizard!" Goldilocks scoffed in a low voice. "He's a Mudblood."

But the Ministry would have laid down wards. Sensing things weren't going his way, Snape almost panicked. Curse these fools! Granted, they didn't know about his informing the Ministry, but were they going to barge into a house with a wizard, even one just out of school, without checking for wards? "We have to take precautions. May I remind you that just because he's a Mudblood doesn't mean he can't perform magic."

Goldilocks snorted and started to reply when Nott interrupted.

"All right then," Nott cut in, sounding irritated at the bickering. "Check for wards. You do it, Snape, as you seem so confident of the Mudblood's abilities."

Snape nodded sourly, secretly relieved, and strode a step forward to cast a detection spell. It would be far faster if they all pitched in, but he wasn't complaining as long as he didn't have to land in a Ministry cell with these fools.

The standard detection spells showed nothing. Snape frowned. How could this be? Before the others behind him could say anything he began another detection spell, this time one that simply showed the presence of a spell.

A faint hum from his wand told him that there were indeed traces of magic in the air. He could feel the others behind him tensing, and suddenly Nott stepped forward to stand slightly before Snape.

"I'll take it from here," said Nott pompously, and Snape stepped back, glad that the mask covered the scorn on his face.

Along with the Brute and Goldilocks he watched as Nott cast a visibility charm to visualize the magical presence, and suddenly there was a faint, glowing web of green starting at the bottom of the hill below them, roughly circular with the house in the center of it like a placid spider. Snape's heart sank as he looked at it, however--this simple structure couldn't possibly be the ward the Ministry had set. It was far too vulnerable, an inexpert job like the typical wizard right out of school would do. What then, were the Magical Law Enforcement Squad waiting in ambush inside the house or its grounds?

"An elementary alarm spell," Nott said as he disintegrated the structure of the ward. "It would have inconvenienced us, but not much more."

Sure, Snape thought, trying to forget his apprehension as the last of the green web unraveled. What was the Ministry's plan? Were they lying in ambush inside the house, then? He forced himself to think clearly as he followed the others into the back yard, then up to the door--still without a hint of resistance or alarm anywhere.

In an instant the door was kicked open and they were rushing inside, Snape going last because he wanted to increase the chances of a quick exit in case Aurors started leaping out. Instead, their none-too-genteel entrance was greeted by alarmed voices and the sound of chairs scraping back frantically. Snape had only a moment to glimpse the terrified faces of a middle-aged couple getting up from a table before they were bound by wand-rope and knocked to the floor. Nott stood before the Muggles as they strained against their bonds, their eyes wide with fear and alarm.

"We apologize, Mr. and Mrs. Kosgrove, for this unexpected visit," said Nott, the glee evident in his voice, "But we have some unfinished business with your son."

Just then there was a creak from the direction of the hallway opposite from the door they had entered through.

Quickly, Snape raised his wand and pointed it at the door between the kitchen and the hallway, both relief and tension flooding through him. So that was the Ministry's plan. They weren't content with preventing an attack, they wanted to catch Death Eaters red-handed. He saw his companions tensing as well, and an uneasy silence fell over the small kitchen--

"Mum? Dad?"

Snape froze in shock as a boy's uncertain voice called out, footsteps approaching the doorway...

A voice cut through the tense silence. "MICHAEL, RUN!" Screamed the Muggle man, and paid dearly for it when Nott pointed his wand at him and hissed "Crucio."

And without warning, Snape felt his mind blank out at the sound of the screams that split the air. He saw, as if in a dream, the Mudblood rush into the dining room, wand raised. Goldilocks hurled a curse at the Mudblood--missed--the Brute raised his wand only to have it knocked out of his hand--an impromptu battle was raging before Snape's eyes, yet all he could hear and think about were the screams of agony that tore through his own flesh in remembered pain. He had to bite down hard on his lip just to make sure he was not the one who was screaming. Disjointed thoughts flew through his mind in a haze of confusion.

I mustn't be seen as weak. I am not weak. I swore not to be. I'm not.

The room was moving before him now with a strange sluggishness and unnatural clarity. Perspiration flew from the Mudblood's forehead as he spun around to face Snape, the drops tracing a slow and beautiful arc downward as Nott, Goldilocks, and the Brute were scrambling to gather themselves together. The screams had ceased, and Snape saw that the Muggle's face had gone leaden with black blood trickling from his nose and ears. The Muggle woman was crying openly with fear and grief.

I am not weak. I am not like them. Snape raised his own wand as the Mudblood's mouth opened.

"Expelliarmus!"

The drops of perspiration from the Mudblood's forehead struck the floor. As if on cue, time resumed its normal flow for Snape again. The whole room was filled with a red glow, and the Mudblood's wand came hurtling at him with such speed that Snape snatched it out of the air only on blind reflex. He watched, drained and distant, as the Mudblood was flung back, bowling right into a surprised Nott. The Mudblood attempted to strangle Nott, but was pulled off easily by the Brute. Kosgrove tried to struggle free only to go limp and quiet after a resounding blow on his jaw from the Brute's hammer-like fist, amid the Muggle woman's anguished cry. Goldilocks trussed him up with wand-rope and tossed him down next to his pale mother and dead father.

Nott, recovering himself, finally got up to stand over the Mudblood's prostrate form. The Brute picked up his wand for him, and he pointed it at the Mudblood. "Ennervate."

Kosgrove came to with a violent jerk and struggled wildly against the ropes that bound him, which held firm. "Michael, are you all right?" The Muggle woman whimpered, at which she received vicious kicks from Nott. Snape closed his eyes silently, then forced himself to open them again and look. He would see this through. There would be no Aurors or Hit Wizards--there never were. His warning had been ignored, and now he would watch this from beginning to end.

"Leave her alone!" The Mudblood screamed, helpless in his rage and desperation. "It's me you want--let her be!"

"Ah, so the Mudblood has some bark and howl," Nott sneered, panting slightly from his exertion. He then rolled over the dead Muggle man so that the pallid, lifeless face faced the Mudblood's. "But like any cowardly mongrel, not much more."

Coward! Thought Snape. It took three pure-bloods to overpower this one Mudblood, and you call him a coward? Then a small voice reminded him with clear and cold precision: Four, not three. The Mudblood's wand that he held was heavy in his hand, somehow the heaviest burden he had ever held.

Just then his ear caught the faint but unmistakable sound of a siren. He knew that sound, for had he not associated with a Mudblood himself in his time?

"Muggle law enforcement," he muttered to Nott, leaning closer to the older wizard. "Better make it quick."

"Well then," Nott said mockingly, "It looks like we must say good-bye now, Mrs. Kosgrove. A shame--we could have gotten to know each other so much better." Goldilocks and the Brute went into snorts of laughter at this while Snape felt a tremor in his hand around the Mudblood's wand. Get it over with, he said silently. Nott's voice went on "This would never have happened, Muggle, if it were not for your Mudblood son desecrating our blood with his filth."

There was a short moment of silence while the dry sob of fear from the Muggle woman's throat, the look of fear on her face, were frozen in time. Then Nott raised his wand, and the woman suddenly turned her head to look at her son. Snape flinched at the look in her eyes--it was no longer terror, no longer weakness, but something indescribable.

"Michael," she whispered, "I love you."

The words to the Killing Curse came as if from very far away, and the green light that next filled the room was surreal, insubstantial. It was a wild scream of grief that brought Snape back to his senses.

"Curse you!" Michael Kosgrove--the Mudblood screamed, straining against his bonds so fiercely that there was a smell of blood upon the air as the ropes cut into the exposed skin at the wrists. "Curse you all for all eternity!" And it was at that moment that Snape knew that the memory of this night would never leave him as long as he lived.

Nott laughed, and Goldilocks and the Brute followed his lead. The small kitchen was filled with the sounds of laughter mingling with the Mudblood's cries.

There were lights flashing outside now and shouting, and Nott, as if reluctant to end his enjoyment so quickly, spat at the boy and spoke the Killing Curse: "Avada Kedavra."

There was a green flash and the Mudblood's head lolled listlessly to one side, as if he had fallen asleep, his face blank, dead. Snape watched silently as Not pointed his wand upward and cried "Morsmordre!" The green skull-and-snake form blossomed from the tip of the wand, growing as it disappeared through the ceiling. He pictured it floating above the rooftop of the house like some ill-conceived ad balloon, and he already expected the cries of surprise and horror that soon came to his ears. Soon, there were sounds of cautious but urgent feet coming towards them.

"Apparate to Malfoy Manor," ordered Nott. "And Snape, snap that wand in two and leave it on the carcass. We'll see how the Ministry deals with that." Snape could not see his face, but he sounded like he was smiling as he Disapparated along with the other two.

Thank you ever so much for your consideration, thought Snape as he took hold of the Mudblood's wand with both hands. He snapped it in two, averting his eyes when he saw the black core of dragon's heartstring that looked just like his own wand core. Acting quickly, he tossed it onto the dead Mudblood's chest and Disapparated just as the door to the kitchen crashed open. The sight of the dead mother and the dead son facing each other on the floor remained on his retina for a moment afterward.

"I subdued the Mudblood quickly with a Stunner. He was begging for his life and wetting his Muggle clothes, saying he'd do anything if only I'd spare him--"

Nott's voice came to Snape's ears as he Apparated into the foyer at Malfoy manor, the oily tones unmistakable even through the closed door. Snape didn't hesitate as he strode to the door and flung it open. Ignoring the startled eyes that watched him, he stalked right over to where Nott sat.

"Mr. Nott," he said. "A word, please."

"Snape." Nott looked annoyed at being interrupted by a new recruit. "What do you-"

"Now." Snape looked straight at the stooped wizard. "Sir." He added almost as an afterthought.

Nott evidently recognized the danger in Snape's voice. "I shall be back presently," he said to the wizards who he had been entertaining.

"What do you think you're doing, Snape?" He hissed when they were out in a foyer out of hearing range from the room. "You do not interrupt your superior that way!"

"I want to talk about your negligence in tonight's mission, Mr. Nott." Snape said in a low voice, and watched with satisfaction as Nott's expression wavered. "You failed to check for protective wards, went into the house with all the inhabitants wide awake, took no precautions whatsoever to muffle the screams, almost let Muggle officers come upon the scene while you wasted time mocking the Muggles--"

"Pre-preposterous!" Nott sputtered. "That wasn't negligence..."

"Try telling that to the Lord," Snape said smugly.

"You--you can't speak at the inner Circle!" Nott blurted. Snape was pleased to see a sheen of sweat appear on Nott's forehead.

"I have access to someone who does," Snape replied. He watched Nott before him fighting to keep a measure of calm, and silently he reveled in the power he had over the man for this moment. He was in his element--he felt the sight of Nott's face easing the pressure in his head, and he breathed freely for the first time that night. It was a subtle euphoria, a release.

"What do you want, Snape?" Nott asked at last after struggling with himself.

Snape smiled. Nott might be an idiot but he was Slytherin enough to see Snape wanted something for himself. "Only that my role in the mission be told truthfully. How I was the one who suggested we check for wards. How I was the one who subdued the Mudblood when he was gaining ground."

Nott weighed this for a moment. Snape already knew which way the scale would tip--Nott was just too easy. "Of...course, Snape." Nott said with a very fake smile. "What made you think I would tell the Lord anything but the truth?"

"I had not a moment's doubt on the matter." Snape said coolly. "Good night then, Mr. Nott. I will not detain you further from your riveting tale."

"Good night, Snape. What an admirable new recruit we have gained." Snape saw Nott's lips contorting, and knew he would have to watch his back. It was worth it, though, to keep Nott from snatching all the credits of his first mission.

He turned away and strode towards the door and out of the Manor. There would be nightmares tonight, and he might yet agonize over why his warning had gone unheeded--but none of that mattered, for he knew what he was now. He was a Death Eater.

...facilis descensus Averno;
noctes atque dies patet atri ianua Ditis;
sed revocare gradum superasque evadere ad auras,
hoc opus, hic labor est.

The gates of hell are open night and day;
Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:
But to return, and view the cheerful skies,
In this the task and mighty labor lies.

- Aeneid, Book 6

A/N 2: The title of this chapter comes from "Facilis est descensus Averno" which means "Easy is the descent to hell." It's contained in the verse above as well. A rather more accurate(but blanker :-) translation than the Dryden one above would be the Allen Mandelbaum one:

"[I cut out the bit about the
blood of gods and Anchises]..easy--
the way that leads into Avernus; day
and night the door of darkest Dis is open.
But to recall your steps, to rise again
into the upper air; that is the labor;
that is the task."

And, courtesy of Blackletter, another translation: "Descending to Avernus is easy;
Night and day the door of dark Hades is open.
But to recall the steps and to escape to the heavenly air,
This is work, this is labor."

Thank you very much, Blackletter! As far as I can see, this seems to correspond the most closely, line by line, to the original Latin.

This corresponds more precisely to the Latin version, I think. (Spoken with shaky confidence by someone who doesn't know a word of Latin.)

A/N 3: I'm having something of an inspiration crisis with IWR. I'm determined to finish it, of course, but I'll be posting some other stuff as well while awaiting the Muse on this one.

A/N 4: I know, I'm going crazy with Author's Notes today. I've changed the format(font size, line width, line spacing, background color) to save the readers eyestrain and reading time. It ought to show up if your browser version is high enough to support CSS. It's my way of showing gratitude to you wonderful people.