A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

The flames danced within the fireplace, casting a hint of warmth upon the long-neglected, cold, drafty walls on this night. Yet, all warmth vanished when everyone's gaze fell upon the speaker.

Voldemort sat directly facing the fireplace, the roaring logs casting deeper shadows around him despite the proximity to the flames. Apart from his silhouette, what stood out were his crimson eyes and pallid skin.

"Severus?" He looked towards the seat next to his right hand.

"The Longbottoms have confirmed their return to the Order of the Phoenix. It seems they've been assigned a separate task, but specifics remain undisclosed. Possible surveillance under Dumbledore's orders, targeting someone present here," came the report from the table.

A slight stir rippled through the occupants. Some shifted uncomfortably, others seemed excited.

"Master, let me go—let me find them, I will capture them," an impassioned plea came from a woman with dark skin. Her features hinted at a once youthful beauty, now permanently marred by years of imprisonment, leaning more towards the unfavorable side.

Gaunt cheeks, protruding eyes, and a mess of black curls adorned her head.

"Bellatrix, I have no doubt of your capabilities, you've proven yourself," Voldemort assessed her with his red eyes. "But you have more important tasks."

He ceased looking at her, turning to Snape. "Anything else?"

"The Ministry and 'Future World' corporation reached an agreement concerning the Thief's Cascade. It seems this will significantly impact our endeavors," Snape's voice lowered.

This caused more unrest among the Death Eaters.

"It's that person's company—"

"We cannot allow this!" A Death Eater slammed the table, shouting, "We should organize an immediate attack—" Many joined in, causing a commotion in the room.

"Would you lead the charge, Selwyn?" Voldemort softly asked, his voice effortlessly cutting through the clamor.

The Death Eaters fell silent, their gazes shifting to the wizard who initiated the conversation. Selwyn stuttered, "M-master, if it is your will, I—I would—"

Voldemort smirked. "No need for your sacrifice yet," he lazily remarked. "I can almost ascertain that the Ministry and Felix Harp are on alert... We must adapt to new rules of war. Felix Harp has brought forth some surprising elements, some unexpectedly useful... the Serpent's Ring, is that its name? Serpent, hmm?" His crimson snake-like eyes locked onto Snape.

"Indeed," Snape murmured, "He used it as his symbol in his early years. Many here might recall," Death Eaters either frowned or shook their heads. "The symbol vanished after his graduation until he returned to Hogwarts as a teacher and started his own club."

Voldemort made an ambiguous sound.

"Professor's club, Serpent... Severus, judging by the name, I thought this was a welcome gift prepared by you for my return."

Snape bowed his head. "Master, he is the most ambitious and organized person I've ever taught."

"You're right. I can picture him in his school days..." Voldemort's voice was deep. "I couldn't comprehend why Felix Harp arrived so timely before. I even suspected betrayal among you. But this newspaper provided the answers." A newspaper lightly floated from his side, gliding across the table.

The Death Eaters raised their heads, attempting to read, but Voldemort evidently lacked patience to have them go through it individually. "It's clear, the Potter trio received assistance through the Serpent's Ring."

"Besides that? Many of you might have heard of, or even used, products from the 'Future World' company. I'm intrigued by the Sonorus Mirror; it’s said to have limited range but in these times, the tide of war is changing. We once led with our unique mark over the Order and Ministry, now we're back on the same starting line."

"Master, do you mean...?"

"Crack the magic within it, and if possible, counter it," Voldemort calmly said. "Let's return to the Thief's Cascade; it'll disrupt our recruitment pace. Though we can directly knock on the targets' doors, drag them out from their warm beds, and threaten their families to work for us—"

Loud laughter erupted.

"That's what I excel at, Master!" a Death Eater loudly expressed loyalty.

"Thank you, Rodolphus, you'll have your chance." Voldemort remained indifferent. "But as I said, it hinders us. Does anyone have a solution?"

"Master, even with the Thief's Cascade, we can gather various intel through our established networks," a Death Eater suggested.

Voldemort showed genuine interest. "Impressive, Selwyn. Any suitable candidates?"

"There is one, surname Umbridge. She's been trying to cozy up to me, boasting about being related to the Selwyn family. But everyone knows her father was a janitor; I merely entertained her due to her past connections to Borgin... I'm sure she can pass on messages for me." Selwyn respectfully conveyed.

"I know of one, my nephew works at the Ministry, the youngest supervisor. He's well-connected within the Aurors," another Death Eater added.

"Good, Avery. Since losing Yaxley, our actions against the Aurors have been a blank slate." Voldemort seemed pleased. "Even in death, he contributes to our cause; we're currently meeting in his house."

Soon, Death Eaters began discussing animatedly, sharing contacts they knew from the Ministry. Altogether, they gathered around sixty to seventy names. These individuals became the next targets for the Death Eaters' operations.

"Lucius."

"Yes, Master—" Lucius Malfoy lifted his head, cautiously meeting Voldemort's crimson eyes, then hastily lowered it.

"Any news from Macnair and Ludlow?"

"Not yet," he answered quietly.

"Not yet," Voldemort echoed flatly. Lucius shuddered involuntarily. "Does this imply you're losing influence at the Ministry?"

"Master, please, give me some time! I'm trying to establish connections with the new Minister, but she's unyielding. And—there's always Sirius Black by her side, clearly from the Order!" Lucius explained.

"Sirius Black," Voldemort looked at Bellatrix. "If I recall correctly, he's your cousin?"

"Y-yes, Master," she excitedly said, leaning in closer, trying to get nearer to Voldemort, "No, he's not my cousin. He's a disgrace, scum from the Black family. I'd love to kill him myself."

"That's quite a list of people you want to take care of," Voldemort coldly remarked.

Bellatrix seemed confused, "How—"

"Your niece recently joined the Order and seems close to a werewolf. Truly a family trait, she's even further ahead than your sister... When will I hear news of their wedding? Will you gift them something?" Voldemort taunted.

Bellatrix glared fiercely at Snape; all the information regarding the Order was provided by him.

Snape managed a sardonic smile.

"Master, she isn't my niece anymore. Ever since my sister married that mudblood, they've had no ties to the Black family," Bellatrix immediately distanced herself, though her words didn't satisfy Voldemort.

She sensed it, her face showing fear. Leaning forward, she tried to express loyalty. "Master, I won't stand for this—despite their choices, I won't allow the Black lineage to be tainted further. I promise you! Right, Lucius? You wouldn't want someone with Lupin's blood connected to the noble Blacks, would you?"

"Absolutely not," Lucius said dryly.

"Then let's act. Let's dispose of them before the next assembly," Bellatrix exclaimed.

"I have an appointment with the Ministry's Senior Undersecretary, Thicknesse. If there's a conflict in timing... sacrifices must be made," muttered Lucius. "Master, I have two matters to report."

Voldemort's attention shifted back to him.

Lucius hesitated, "Firstly, I encountered Snape at Ollivanders. He wasn't friendly and warned Ollivander about being cautious around me, us."

"He has reason to do so," Voldemort calmly stated, his face subtly contorting, resembling a pale serpent in the firelight. Those around him dared not meet his gaze.

"Bad news, Lucius. I hope your second piece is more uplifting," Voldemort softly said.

"Of course," Lucius gasped, "I've located Bode precisely. He's in St. Mungo's Hospital, currently incoherent. The Ministry hasn't noticed anything yet. But if he were to disclose our pursuit of the prophecy—"

"Then silence him," Voldemort said. "Who volunteers to rid me of this nuisance? Antonin, what do you say?"

"It would be my honor, Great Dark Lord," Antonin Dolohov, a Death Eater with a twisted face, grinned.

---

After the meeting, Voldemort kept Severus Snape behind.

Gazing at the black night sky, he regretted more than ever. Perhaps waiting a few more months, even years, might yield the perfect resurrection: using Harry Potter's blood, the same blood that held the protection from him—Potter's mother's love—inside him.

Regret and frustration tormented Voldemort. He had contemplated active suicide to revive, ridding himself of a formidable foe and growing stronger. But impatience had consumed him then.

The Christmas night ambush by Felix Harp and Dumbledore had left him deeply shaken. If he hadn't quickly alerted Barty, the closest he'd come to revival in over a decade might have ended there. Knowing Barty nearly got caught carrying out the plan to "eliminate Mad-Eye Moody" made him even more anxious.

He wouldn't let Barty out of his sight since then.

Months of hesitation and fear marked his most dreadful days. He feared Felix and Dumbledore might appear any second, taking away his only loyal servant. He hadn't considered that his resurrection materials—his father's bone, servant's flesh, enemy's blood—had an expiration.

In a hundred years, he might outlast Dumbledore, but loyal Death Eaters and his fearful enemies would fade. His name wouldn't endure longer than Dumbledore's corpse. How would he revive then?

Despite thinking he'd conquered death, time forced his head down.

Moreover, Felix Harp's rising prominence troubled him. Gossip magazines debated Felix's potential to surpass Dumbledore. Some claimed Felix had already bested hundreds of wizards at the Quidditch World Cup single-handedly—an idea Voldemort scorned but found intriguing. Others argued that while Felix was strong, he hadn't faced true challenges like Dumbledore.

Their only consensus: Felix Harp, under thirty, posed a significant threat and might be the next Dumbledore.

That, Voldemort feared most. Even if he outlived Dumbledore in a hundred years, Felix might replace him.

So, he chose to abandon Harry Potter's blood and proceed with a covert resurrection.

But since his return, nothing went as planned. Apart from the ludicrous Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, and his brave comrades (as per the Ministry's recent propaganda), there emerged an ancient runes professor. As he denied his failing fate inwardly, he couldn't help but entertain doubts.

Especially after he heard a partial prophecy about his fate. He turned to Snape, his red eyes seeming to bleed, both inscrutable and impatient.

"That prophecy, repeat what you heard."

"Word for word?"

"Exactly."

Snape stuttered, sounding unlike himself, transported back to that shabby tavern in 1980, his lips trembling involuntarily. In a hoarse voice, he said, "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him... born at the end of July..."

The dim room fell silent. After what seemed an eternity, Snape dryly said, "Master, that's all I heard before being discovered by the barman and thrown out."

Voldemort remained silent, lost in thought.

What did the full prophecy entail? Did it mention Felix Harp? Or... his own fate?

"Master—?" Snape raised his voice, devoid of emotion.

"You may leave, continue gathering information for me," Voldemort paused slightly. "If there's a chance, find out Amelia Bones's whereabouts; she's becoming a threat."

"But master, I have no contact in the Ministry—"

"Use that Sirius Black; aren't they getting closer recently?"

Snape bowed his head, his black eyes flickering uncertainly. "As you wish—master," he finally said.

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