The Champion's Legacy

Prologue

Location: Hospital Wing, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Date: The twenty-fourth of June, nineteen ninety-five

Time: Around eleven forty-four in the evening

'Severus,' said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, 'you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready…if you are prepared…'

'I am,' said Snape.

He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

'Then good luck,' said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.

…

Location: Little Hangleton Graveyard, England

Date: The twenty-fifth of June, nineteen ninety-five

Time: Around twelve thirty-three in the morning

A multitude of stars twinkled in the dark sky above, many miles away from the sloping grounds of Hogwarts School. It was a warm summer night; a gentle breeze blew across the landscape, which could hardly be considered as a picturesque scene. The house by the hillside was dilapidated and broken, while the church appeared to be equally abandoned.

A soft crack punctuated the silence that had pervaded the area. A figure in black robes and a hooded travelling cloak had materialised out of nowhere beside the church. It stood still for a moment, as though appearing to take its bearings, then set off past the yew tree, towards the small valley below, where a number of tombstones lay arrayed in an unorganised, haphazard manner.

The figure's cloak trailed on the ground as it approached the graveyard; a cluster of dead leaves and stray twigs rustled in its wake. If it was trying to be quiet, it was not succeeding – but there did not seem to be anyone around to be alerted to its presence.

The tombstones glinted and shone slightly in the light of the stars above – the ones in white marble a bit brighter than the others. None of them seemed to be of names the figure recognised, for it proceeded without pause toward the centre of the graveyard, one hand inside its cloak, as though clutching something tightly.

The figure lowered its hood as it drew closer to its destination, revealing the visage of a pale, sallow-skinned man, framed by long black hair that was parted in curtains. His black eyes glittered slightly as he looked around, his mind taking in the scorch marks on the ground and tombstones alike, and pieces of marble scattered amongst the overgrown weeds.

At last, he reached the middle of the graveyard – and it was here that Severus Snape allowed his emotions to show for the first time that night.

Potter did put up a good fight.

An enormous stone cauldron stood off to the side, a trickle of white steam swirling around above it. A marble angel ten feet away to the right had the tip of its wing blown off, with the debris showered all around the cauldron and beyond. To the left was another marble headstone – but it was different from the others around it. For one, the headstone bore marks of something – or someone – being tied to it; it was cracked too, if the jagged lines on it were anything to go by. The overgrown grave at its base appeared trampled upon, as though someone had walked, or probably even run, upon it.

But by far the most distinguishing feature of that particular grave and headstone was, for Snape, the name inscribed upon it.

TOM RIDDLE

A sudden movement in the shadows beyond his immediate range of vision caught Snape's attention. He gripped his wand tighter, even as his left forearm tingled once more.

'You are late, Severus.'

The voice was high, cold, and cruel – but Snape recognised it at once. Without another thought, he dropped to his knees, as though in subservience, and bowed his head.

'My Lord,' he said, raising his head just a fraction.

The thin man standing in front of him had skin whiter than a skull, with wide, livid, scarlet eyes, whose pupils were cat-like slits, gleaming in the darkness. His nose was as flat as a snake's, with slits for nostrils. His long, white fingers were caressing a long wand, as he looked upon Snape with a tilted head and an unreadable expression.

'I must admit, I did not expect you to return, Severus.'

Snape remained kneeling, even as he continued to stare straight at those gleaming red eyes. It was a challenge, a test of his loyalty – one which he had to pass in order to survive.

He felt a slight, almost non-existent presence probing the corners of his mind; at once, he dropped his Occlumency shields, which had been put up earlier out of sheer instinct and habit. He could feel the presence passing over his mind – hunting, seeking…

And then it was gone. Snape continued to look unblinkingly at the man, whose mouth had curved into a lipless smile.

'Rise, my old friend,' said the Dark Lord at last.

Snape got to his feet, taking care not to stumble on the edges of his cloak as he did so. He stood staring straight ahead, as Voldemort began to pace around him. Neither of them said anything for a good while: the silence stretched out before them, encasing them in a quiet bubble of contemplation.

Finally, Voldemort stopped his pacing right in front of Snape, and their gazes met once more.

'Dumbledore suspects nothing?' he asked softly.

'He believes I have returned on his orders,' replied Snape, just as quietly.

An owl hooted from the yew tree nearby.

'And what of your allegiance?'

'Nothing as of yet, my Lord.'

Voldemort exhaled softly. 'That is welcome news,' he said, 'one that I would gladly take, considering the events from earlier this evening…'

He trailed off. Snape said nothing, instead choosing to remain silent. He knew better than to incur the Dark Lord's wrath by commenting about Potter.

'But no matter,' continued Voldemort after a few moments. 'It is but a minor complication, one that can be easily managed.' He looked at Snape again. 'What news do you have for me?'

Snape inclined his head slightly. 'The Order of the Phoenix is to be re-started soon, my Lord. Dumbledore has already sent word to its former members.'

'As expected,' said Voldemort. 'You will be a part of it, of course?'

'Naturally,' said Snape with a curt nod.

'Good,' said Voldemort. 'A single spy within their ranks should suffice.'

They fell silent once more, the quietness broken only by another hoot from the owl on the yew tree. A few moments later, Voldemort spoke once more.

'There is much to discuss with you, Severus. I wish not to linger for long, not when Dumbledore has already made his move.' His red eyes gleamed still more brightly in the darkness. 'But first, tell me this: have you managed to hear the full prophecy?'

For the second time that night, Snape's emotions betrayed him: he blinked, and a slight frown of worry creased his face.

'My Lord, I –'

Voldemort shook his head, and Snape fell silent. 'No matter. Doubtless, Dumbledore would have ensured her full protection ever since that night.'

'If I may, my Lord,' said Snape, 'but Sybil Trelawney has no recollection of the prediction she made. Dumbledore has so far refused to share his memory of the prophecy with me.'

Voldemort did not respond immediately, instead choosing to stare at the large cauldron, as though in deep thought.

'I must hear the full prophecy, Severus,' he said at last. 'It is the one thing I need above everything else: the knowledge of how to destroy the boy.'

Snape said nothing. His expression was impassive. At last, Voldemort turned to face Snape, his red eyes glittering with anticipation.

'It must be retrieved from the Department of Mysteries. That is the only way.'

Author's Note: It's my beta Dorothea Greengrass' birthday today, so I decided to write this for her as a birthday present. Happy Birthday Dorothea, and thank you for reviewing this!

This is just a sneak preview to the next story – that will be put up as per my earlier announcement i.e. January / February 2018. Anyway…what did you think?