Chapter Text
His joints ached. Perhaps it was to be expected, having an order that involved stealth and patience. Either the Dark Lord simply wanted him out of the way- a young distraction with little to prove of himself- or his devotion to the cause was being tested. Regardless, he would remain an invisible fly on the wall as long as it took before finally returning with enough valuable information to save himself from a punishable welcome home.
“Professor Yochi has decided to step down from his post, something about a new grandchild begging his attention overseas. Quite conveniently, Miss Sybil, it has come to my knowledge that you are the descendant of a great Seer, Cassandra Trelawney,” said the elderly wizard.
Sybil Trelawney stretched her bangled arms toward Dumbledore, “Ohh my dear, I have always known you would come to me.” Her lofty voice rang through the walls of the unimpressionable inn, reaching the ears of one Severus Snape, who had his face pressed to the thin wood separating the two rooms. “Many years ago did a vision reveal itself to me of this very moment.” She took a breath in through her nose, eyes closed, etching the scene into her memory through an inhalation of the atmosphere surrounding them, “The young souls that roam the halls of your school will no doubt broaden their unexercised minds at the teaching of my hand.”
“Quite so,” Dumbledore smiled politely, “However, I am sure you understand, we take the greatest pride in hiring the utmost distinguished experts at our school, in relation to each field. Would you please, if it is no inconvenience to yourself, offer a prediction, of which I am told is the sole discernment of a true seer?”
Severus listened as Sybil Trelawney scrambled to impress the Hogwarts Headmaster with trifling little anecdotes. One after the other seeming more far-fetched and idiotic than the next.
I knew this was a waste of time , he thought to himself. His disappointment was reflected in the Headmaster’s eyes, seen through the sliver of light cast through the neighboring bedroom wall in front of him.
“Thank you for your time, Sybil. You will be expecting an owl from the school shortly on our final decision.” Albus Dumbledore bowed his head to a mistakenly proud Trelawney, and exited the room. Severus held his breath until the squeak of stairs marking the old professor’s descent could be heard no more.
As Severus braced a hand on his knee to stand, a choking sound froze his movements. He turned back to the sliver of light revealing Trelawny’s still figure. She had not moved from the stance she bid Dumbledore farewell. In fact, her eyes had not strayed from the open doorway in the slightest. However, her mouth was agape, and a hand had gone to her throat, as though it pained her.
To his bewilderment, a voice quite unlike the one he heard from the woman moments before croaked out a string of words. It immediately became apparent to Severus that these words held crucial importance. These words were exactly the reason he had come tonight. They would be the key to his rising in rank of Voldemort’s inner circle. He would finally receive the recognition he deserved.
“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord is approaching…
Born in the year of the primate from those who have thrice defied him…
Born at the setting of the seventh month…
And he will have power the Dark Lord knows not, marked as an equal from a land not our own…
For what the Dark Lord must lose, will be found in broken blood…
And one shall not live while the other survives…
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will approach as the seventh month dies.”
“My Lord,” he could hardly contain the pride bursting from within, “I heard a prophecy from the descendant of a remarkable seer.”
“And what relevance, pray tell, does this prophecy have with me, Severus?” Voldemort implored coldly, his menacing gaze forced Severus to his knees, head bowed low to the floor. He had left the inn dazedly, knowing he had struck gold, committing the words to memory as he went. His wild entrance into the Dark Lord’s chambers may have been lacking in gracefulness.
“It mentions you, my Lord…” he swallowed anxiously, “And another, an enemy,” he dared a glance at his master’s reaction thus far. His handsomely aged face was fixed on Severus, devouring every word.
“What of this enemy? Recite it for me.” He swept forward, staring down at the man’s hunched body, now suddenly apprehensive to share.
What if the prophecy angers him? Severus considered, I would undoubtedly be the subject of his wrath.
He averted his eyes once again, and spoke the prophecy into the night, pausing on the line mentioning the power of this ‘enemy’, power the Dark Lord knows not .
“Is there a reason for your hesitation, Severus? I know defiance like a close friend… and you, dear boy, are withholding something from me.” He leaned down and lifted Severus’ chin with a cold finger, forcing eye contact.
Being the well-practiced occlumens that he was, Severus raised his mental defences. “No, my Lord,” he muttered, “I am only disturbed by the following line… for what the Dark Lord must lose, will be found in broken blood.”
Severus knew he was withholding perhaps the most crucial, albeit alarming part of the prophecy. However, his reasons were purely for survival. Should the Dark Lord attempt to destroy this enemy before it destroyed him, and be thwarted by the unknown power mentioned in the prophecy, the blame would fall to Severus. The other devoted Death Eaters would point fingers at him for their Dark Lord’s downfall. With his luck, this would result in either a lifetime in Azkaban or a lifetime of torture by the hands of Voldemort’s followers. He would be blamed for leading their immortal leader astray down the path of destruction.
It was a risk he refused to take. It would be better for him if the Dark Lord was blind to the potential danger. No one had to know his awareness of the fact.
“Is that all?”
“Only the final phrase being a repeat of the first, the one with the power to vanquish the Dark lord approaches.” Voldemort held his gaze a moment longer, digging his ravenous claws through Severus’ memories, naturally finding nothing other than what Severus wanted him to see. Apparently satisfied, he stood up and paced the floor.
“Go fetch the others,” he ordered after several moments. Severus nearly tripped over himself in his haste, pausing at the door as the Dark Lord spoke once more, “Severus, you have proven yourself tonight. I wish for your personal assistance in our journey to rid the world of this so called enemy.”
Severus mumbled a gracious, “Yes, m’Lord,” before swinging the door firmly shut behind him. He had done it, he congratulated himself as he turned down the hall. He had gotten into the Dark Lord’s good graces.
The shadow of a victorious grin flickered across his face but was distorted by an unwanted feeling of dread which had settled in the pit of his stomach.