Fate Set Right

Chapter 29

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April 8, 1977

Minerva didn't question him when he told her he had to skip detention. One less thing he had to worry about. One less night away from Hermione.

As he walked through the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack, blessedly free of Lupin, he thought of the quickly dwindling time between him and Hermione.

In a perfect world, the one that Severus had been sure was coming to fruition before November, he and Hermione would still have seventh year together. They would come up with a plan, maybe even decide to go to the States. He would get his Mastery there, and Hermione could try to narrow down what she wanted to do. In that perfect, untainted world, he would have simply told Lucius that he was unable to attend his parties. He would have never met the Dark Lord, and he wouldn't have been pressured to. He'd have kept to himself, kept his head down, and gotten out without consorting with Death Eaters.

Lupin and Black would have told him about Lupin's condition, instead of learning about it by coming face to face with the werewolf. Perhaps he and Black could have a more open ... whatever it was they had. Lily and he could have continued their friendship. Well, maybe that was a stretch. Her jealous streak had driven a wedge between them, and while she was certainly having no problem making her way through the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, she still seemed miffed that he had stopped pining after her. Lily and he would have never made it to the end of Hogwarts as close as they had started; they were too different, but maybe they would have been on better terms.

But it didn't matter now. Because there was no such thing as a perfect life, especially not for him. It was never in the cards for Severus Snape to have that sort of luck.

And so, he put on the mask and drew the hood of his traveling cloak over his head before looking at a picture of his destination. The picture was of a wooded area, a distinct rectangular altar-shaped rock with a dead tree to its right. He could feel the slight breeze captured in the moving photo, smell the earth and hear the dry leaves on the ground. One moment he was in the Shack, ignoring the fear creeping into his chest, and the next, he felt the cool air of the night on his skin.

There were a couple other pops of Apparition around him before he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings.

His stomach dropped while his dinner launched into the back of his throat.

There were other masked men, much bigger than he was, clearly older. There were also others who were only a couple years out of Hogwarts; he could probably recognize them the moment they spoke. He didn't think there had been quite this many present when he killed his father; but then again, he hadn't paid much attention to the audience.

The Dark Lord was at the altar rock, where a man was tied. The man was bare-chested, breathing heavily, probably from the pain of having a rune carved into him.

Severus watched the others moving closer, slowly surrounding the Dark Lord and kneeling. Severus followed suit, bowing his head while his eyes darted around, trying to make sense of the scene.

"Friends," the Dark Lord greeted warmly. "Rise."

Severus only moved when the others did.

"You must be wondering why I have called you here this evening. It's simple, really. This man, this ... traitor ... has put two of our dear friends in Azkaban. For what reason? For cleansing our world."

" Toujours Pur ," a few close to Severus murmured.

He looked at the man on the altar: he was scowling, ignoring the sweat dripping down his face and into his ears. Severus realized that he didn't move other than to breathe.