A huge thank-you for my two beta-readers, Sweet Trufflepuff and Sorasrardust. They make my weak English much more readable for everyone else. They work hard and they work for free, and I owe them about half of my sanity. Any mistakes left are mine and probably caused by the changes I keep making. Trigger warnings: masturbation and (non-explicit) violence and torture.

Severus Snape, August 4th, 1995

August was sunny and warm. Hermione's 15th birthday had been celebrated with relative modesty at her own request a few days before. Privately she'd confessed it felt odd to celebrate in July, when she'd always considered her real birthday to be 19th of September, but that birthday belonged to Harry Granger now. From what she told him and Albus, very few people had actually celebrated Hermione Granger's birthdays in the previous timeline, but in this timeline Molly and Hestia were adamant and wanted a party.

The girl seemed glad to escape to Hogwarts whenever it was allowed, and not only because Molly and Hestia wanted to dress her up in frocks and teach her cooking and cleaning spells. Black, the disgusting mutt, was still trying to establish a proper relationship between the girl he considered his god-daughter and himself, but with little success. They bickered constantly. It was unsurprising, really, considering how Black mostly wanted to talk about Lily and James Potter or tried his best to find something they had in common. Black, a consummate Gryffindor, wore his heart on his sleeve and was unable to completely conceal his disappointment whenever he realised just how different Hermione was from his late friends.

Thus Hermione had once again returned to Hogwarts the day after her birthday, with the excuse of keeping Draco company. In reality, she spent almost all of her time in the library, studying frantically for her upcoming exams, though Severus knew she'd already passed her OWLs once and would have no problems in producing a fine string of 'Outstandings' in her certificate. The NEWTs would follow, and some of her teachers had expressed disappointment when she didn't learn the seventh-year material quite as easily as she'd done with the previous years. Filius and Albus, who knew exactly why she'd absorbed and replicated her spells, charms and potions so easily, had told her not to worry about it, but the smallest expression of disappointment or a frown from Minerva or Septima sent the silly chit around the bend and planted her firmly into the library where she glued her posterior in a chair and refused to budge.

It was late, and Albus, who'd discovered she wasn't in her bed yet, had sent the grumbling Severus to fetch her. Suppressing his urge to curse, Severus entered the empty Hogwarts library and looked around. Madam Pince was still away, but the library remained open to the staff, since the strict librarian couldn't find a way to forbid them from touching her beloved books. She'd always glared at Snape specifically, aware of his tendency to scribble in his books. Pince. would perhaps have approved of Hermione being here, considering how much the girl adored her books, but it would have been a grudging approval at best.

A small sound from the left in the empty and silent library drew his attention. Silently Severus walked in the direction he'd heard the sound from. The sound repeated: a small gasp and a whimper. Severus had pulled out his wand before he'd had time to think about it, and moved faster and yet silently, hoping she wasn't hurt or being attacked. He mentally cursed the girl for wandering about the castle on her own.

She was in a seat by one of the smallest desks between the rows. The desk was piled with books and parchments, but the girl wasn't paying any attention to them. Her head was thrown back, her face was flushed and eyes closed and her hand was…. Oh God.

Severus felt his chest constrict, his breath caught in his throat and his cock swelled quickly as his pulse sped up. Hermione was touching herself, her hand buried inside the yellow Muggle sundress. Her left hand was caressing her nipples through the fabric. She was panting as she neared her crest, hand moving frantically as she caressed herself, and small whimpers escaped her lips. Unconsciously Severus palmed his cock as it pushed against the thin trousers he wore under his robes to stave off the castle's chill even in the heat of summer. Pleasure lanced through him at the first touch, followed by disgust when he realised he was practically wanking as he watched his student pleasure herself. Unfortunately, his hand seemed reluctant to leave and continuously caressed his throbbing erection.

Hermione was practically writhing in her chair now, and he was unable to look away. He was too far away to actually smell her arousal, but he was sure if he'd only been closer… Hermione let out a few stronger gasps and then shook as her orgasm hit her, and before Severus could stop himself, he was coming. His cock throbbed and twitched as his seed filled his previously clean underwear, and Severus clenched his teeth together as he fought to restrain his moan of pleasure. His eyes closed involuntarily and he leaned on the wall, panting. His legs felt weak.

Luckily his recovery did not take long. A flush of shame coloured his sallow cheeks and with another glimpse at her, which confirmed the girl hadn't seen him, he fled into his dungeons and slammed the door of his room behind him. Damn Albus and damn the foolish girl and damn those orders to find her! Severus threw himself on his bed, fighting off waves of nausea, shame, and newly-rising arousal. He tried to forget his erection. He berated himself and tried to remember Lily, but nothing could remove the sight of Hermione from his mind.

An indeterminable time later he heard a knock. He refused to answer it. A few minutes later he heard someone enter his rooms, undoubtedly after his door had been opened with a spell. Albus, then, or Filius, perhaps Minerva. No-one else could open a door to his private chambers.

"Severus?" inquired Albus as he entered the bedroom.

"Yes, Headmaster," Severus returned evenly.

"I found Hermione. She was in the library. Might I inquire why you didn't fetch her…?"

"The school is not in session and I am neither a house-elf nor an owl," Severus snapped bitterly and with very little respect.

"I see." Albus' voice was even, betraying no anger or disappointment. "Well, I do wish you'd have told me you couldn't fetch her, or I'd have asked someone else."

"Yes, Headmaster." His voice was bitter.

"Is everything all right, Severus?" inquired Albus with concern. "If you are ill…"

"I simply need sleep. Thank you."

Dumbledore flicked his wand and Severus could see he was trying to determine if he was lying and was indeed sick, cursed, or perhaps dying, but obviously the charm indicated none of that. "Very well," said Dumbledore, his voice slightly concerned and perhaps a little defeated. "I shall send down some food and tea for you. Rest well, Severus." With this, the kindly Headmaster departed silently, closing the door behind him.

Severus groaned and threw his arm over his eyes. His cock was still throbbing in his trousers, constricting uncomfortably. He fought against himself, trying to recite the vilest of potions ingredients he could remember, think of the feel of dissected guts of a toad in his fingers and contemplated a cold shower, but nothing helped. A faint sound in his sitting room indicated his meal had arrived, but Severus ignored it, undressed and crawled between his sheets.

An hour later he was still shifting uncomfortably in his bed, frustrated beyond belief. A cold shower, when he'd finally taken one, had taken care of his erection only momentarily. There was nothing to do but to surrender to it. He grasped his cock, his hips bucking involuntarily at the first touch, and began to wank himself to the longed-for relief. He tried to imagine Lily but she vanished almost immediately. He pictured the Muggle pin-up girls in his father's old magazines, old things that were tame and mild these days, but Hermione behind that library desk took over and suddenly he lost control. His hips snapped quickly, his back bowed and he came with a hoarse groan, the forbidden name of his student on his lips. He bit his own arm fiercely to keep down the name and left vicious marks in his flesh.

The guilt still hadn't left him when he fell asleep, exhausted and ashamed, and slept uneasily.

.

Albus Dumbledore, August 18th, 1995

Nurmengard was a forbidding black fortress amidst the mountains. The weather in the Austrian alps was tolerable now despite the winds sweeping everywhere, but Nurmengard seemed to leech warmth and joy from its surroundings like a Dementor. There were no Dementors here, though, and the cold stab in his heart was caused by something else.

His eyes swept over the inscription "Für das höhere Wohl" over the gate. For the Greater Good, they'd always told each other and toasted for it with boyish grins, and here it was, inscribed over the gate in German. Another sting to his heart, then. The gates opened before him and he strode into the courtyard confidently. He could feel the heavy protective enchantments brush all over him as he passed the gates. There were many similarities to the ones at Hogwarts, others searching for deceptions and evil intent. Each guard carried a foe glass, but the surroundings were also scanned from inside the castle.

"Guten Tag," one of the few guards in the courtyard greeted him. This young man, dressed in the uniform of an Austrian Auror, seemed relatively young and fresh compared to the other wizards Albus could see. The embroidered marks on his uniform marked him as a low-ranking officer. "Sind Sie Professor Albus Dumbledore?" The expression on the face of the young Auror was awed in a way Albus was accustomed to.

"Ja, ich bin Albus Dumbledore," Albus confirmed with an easy smile, shaking the wizard's hand. He saw another, older and higher-ranking officer approach them. The expression on this man's face was far more serious and grim but still respectful. A few stern words from him startled the young wizard who corrected his posture quickly, greeting his superior in a way that spoke of harsh discipline. It was something every guard learned quickly here. Though Gellert Grindelwald was currently the only prisoner here, he was considered highly dangerous.

The commander spoke English, though highly accented, and greeted Albus seriously and with respect. He knew Albus had taken down the wizard he'd been charged to guard. He invited Albus for tea, an offer he could not refuse due to protocol. Anyone using Polyjuice would be discovered after a delay. While they had tea they would be carefully monitored and watched, and guards would be ready to burst it immediately. It wasn't mentioned, of course, out of courtesy. Very few remembered Gellert Grindelwald was still alive these days, and fewer still would have wanted Grindelwald set free, but they took no risks, not even after all these years. Gellert would die here inside this prison of his own making.

Usually, the visitor's wand was confiscated for the duration, and Albus carried his old wand in his sleeve just for those occasions. Few people dared to ask for Albus Dumbledore's wand to be weighed or inspected, but Albus took no risks with the Elder Wand. He tended to give his old wand, which worked quite well for him, and thus the Elder Wand had remained hidden for all these years. Nobody asked to see his wand here, out of respect, as misguided as he sometimes thought it was.

After a pot of poorly-brewed tea, a selection of fine cheeses, and a thick slice of apple strudel were consumed, the commanding officer bowed to him and called one of his Aurors to lead him to the prisoner. The wizard who'd responded to the summons in less than three seconds had clearly been one of the guards posted outside the commander's office and was clearly holding back his desire to chatter nervously. Albus knew he was a legend worldwide, but right now he was grateful for the silence.

Gellert's cell was in the highest tower of Nurmengard. The hallway was dark and depressing, the door iron and humming with protections and enchantments. Stern-looking wizards and witches guarded the tower, though they greeted him with stiff formality. The Auror showed each of them the official parchment he'd received from the commander, each of them placed their own wands on it before giving it back. Protocol was followed to the letter even after all these years. The last three guards waved their wand at the door, each taking down a layer of protection, and his guide opened the door with a large key. The lock clicked loudly, and Albus nodded and stepped in.

The cell which held the man he'd once loved was dark and chilly. A narrow bed and some thin blankets, and under those blankets a small and frail figure stirred. Albus felt his stomach clench.

"Scheiße! Warum können Sie mich nicht schlafen lassen?!" demanded a reedy voice, which Albus could scarcely recognise.

"Gellert, it's me."

"A-Ah-Albus…?"

The bundle stirred, and Albus wanted to cry. The man he'd once loved had changed terribly. Gone was the healthy and beautiful young man, and gone was the stern Dark wizard he'd been during their last encounter. This wizard was thin and frail, barely more than a skeleton dressed in rags. His teeth had fallen out, his hair almost gone save a few scarce and brittle locks here and there. Time had not treated Gellert Grindelwald kindly. The eyes were the same, but they weren't filled with resentment and hatred.

"I'm dreaming, aren't I…?" Gellert's accent was thicker now, after spending decades locked in this prison. He looked dreadful, but he was still the same man underneath the layer of years and neglect. Albus suddenly felt befuddled and a horrid wave of longing and love made his throat constrict. He remembered vividly those two months of passion, lust, love and madness when they'd made love wildly, dreamt of a better world and life, the Deathly Hallows and glory. It had been beautiful and their ambitions and lack of scruples had twisted their beautiful love into something horrible.

"No, I'm here," Albus managed thickly after forcing his thoughts back into order.

"After all these years." Gellert's eyes looked clearer now, and Albus could feel the weight of his gaze as the love of his life and his once worst enemy measured him. "You've grown old," Gellert added with a little mischievous smirk, and Albus couldn't help but laugh, though his knees felt like buckling. He eyed Gellert meaningfully, which made his old lover cackle a bit.

"Are they not feeding you, Gellert? You look…"

"Terrible? I know. They give me food, but it holds no taste for me now. I have so many regrets. The food tastes like dust when you eat regrets with it."

Albus blinked to hold back his tears. He quickly asked the lingering guard to bring a chair. He could have conjured one, but the protective enchantments which protected this room suppressed wandless magic completely and hindered those using a wand. The enchantments could be brought down, of course, like all magic could, but only by damaging the castle severely and possibly by killing the commander. The wizard complied immediately, returning with a rickety and slightly crooked chair which he'd obviously transfigured. The work was shoddy and weak, but Albus didn't have the heart or strength to judge him further, and merely thanked him. At his insistence, the guards left him alone. It was almost certainly another breach of protocol, but Albus knew they wouldn't have broken the rules for anyone else.

"Welcome to my humble home, Albus," said Gellert. "Forgive the mess, the… the… der Diener? Ah, the servers, they are on holiday. I take it you are not just a friend dropping by to see me?"

"No," Albus sighed. "I've come to ask for your advice."

"Mine? Do you not the entire Britain at your disposal have?" he asked.

"This is a matter in which I believe only you can guide me."

"Ah. My wand."

Albus didn't correct him, and apparently he didn't need to. "Now your wand," Gellert added sadly. "You have it, of course?" At his nod of confirmation, Gellert's eyes darted to look at his sleeves, the place he usually held his wand at, though this time he'd swapped his old wand to the primary place for safety. "Ask, although I imagine you know the wand better than I do after all these years."

"Perhaps."

" I take it this concerns your new enemy?"

"You've heard of him, then?"

"Oh, yes. News travels slowly here, but they do come. I have very little to do here but to listen. And think."

Albus nodded slowly. "You studied the legends and stories for far longer than I did. Do you think it is aware? Intelligent?"

Gellert moved in his bed to lean against the wall and steepled his fingers. "Some things made me think that, ja. It respects power. It is certainly very… wählerisch? It doesn't accept just anyone."

"And the only way to gain its allegiance would be to defeat whoever is the previous master? There is no other way?"

"As far as I know. Why?"

"I was hoping it could be persuaded to serve another in battle."

Gellert cocked his head curiously, which made him look like a large bird with his emaciated face and thin neck.

"The need is dire," Albus added. "Sometimes when I've used it I've wondered if it could truly be aware."

"It might," Gellert confirmed slowly, and Albus watched a dawning realisation light his eyes. "You have found them. You have them all."

Denial would have been useless, Gellert was much too clever for that. The frail prisoner leaned his head back and laughed, horrid and cackling and rusty laughter which sounded terrible here in this dismal place.

"You found them at last and you intend to use them to take down the Dark wizard. I would ask you to show me, but you would not have brought them here, no. Wise, good choice. Aber… but not you. They are not for you. You intend to have the girl use them."

"Yes."

"I will not ask why. I know what I could not understand then. Our dreams of being the Masters of Death, such empty dreams. Ironisch. I… am not sure it can be done, Albus, unless you have her defeat you and I doubt she can, even if she wanted."

"She's not strong enough, no. But would it still serve her, if our combined will is strong enough?"

"I do not know." Gellert closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "Perhaps. Death is its creator and I have no doubt he follows it. He's punishing me even now. He will not come for me. I sorely regret it all, Albus." His eyes opened. They were haunted. "I was so wrong, so very wrong. Those things I did in Durmstrang, those people I hurt and murdered. What you and I had was beautiful and I twisted it all. You were pure and I twisted you to suit my needs even though I loved you. Nothing can ever bring it back. Nothing can repay for all I did."

"Please don't, Gellert…"

"I am not done!" Gellert snapped, and for a mere moment, the voice of command was that of the powerful wizard he'd been. His frail cheeks were wet. "I wanted to lead our people and protect them. I wanted to be their beloved savior. The statues of stone and magic they would build for me. How I would guide them and protect them like they were my children. And I killed and crushed them and they hated me instead. Oh Albus, how could I go so wrong?"

"You're human, Gellert. We all make mistakes."

"Ja, nur ein Mann. And the Hallows were never meant for us. They only bring pain and misfortune."

"The Stone and the Wand, certainly, but the Cloak…"

"It, too. It would make them reckless and careless, do you think not? Foolish men, rushing into danger only to die when Death has let them pass so many times before, and all because of the silly Cloak. Misfortune, Albus, death and destruction. Perhaps Death is punishing me because I wielded a Hallow once. One day he'll come for me and I'll be glad of it. I can not help you, Albus. I wish I could."

"I know. It is my duty."

"I can give very little advice. Death is the only true Master of the Elder Wand. It is his and serves him. Perhaps you can make it work, I do not know. I have faith in you. I sometimes felt like it might have felt my love for you and accepted you. It resisted me when I faced you, though I never told you that. I think it knew that I loved you."

"I still love you, Gellert," Albus confessed. "There was never anyone else for me."

"I am… quite unsurprised," Gellert cackled and coughed a bit. "I was always so unforgettable." His smirk was a bit smug, a faint echo of the boy he'd once been.

"True," Albus admitted, though they both knew it wasn't the whole and complete truth. The esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts in love with another man? It'd have caused a scandal. They'd have suspected him of abusing the boys as well as the girls. They'd have called him a pervert and accused him of abusing the students he'd guided and guarded for decades. His work would have been gone, his reputation in tatters and the war possibly lost, all without any evidence, merely because of prejudice for people of his sexual inclination. There were some who knew, of course, such as Aberforth and Bathilda Bagshot, but they'd never tell. And Gellert, who'd hated him for years, never did tell. He'd known Albus had the Elder Wand and he'd never told anyone, and he never tarnished Albus Dumbledore's reputation.

They both knew this would probably be the last time they'd meet in this world, though they didn't say it. As Albus departed with a heavy heart, he left Gellert a small package of sweets, hoping he would eat them. He hoped the hidden Weasley Canary Cream would cheer the old man up a bit. He wished he could have told Gellert everything and unburdened his heart, but he could never do that.

He'd begin training Hermione to use the Elder Wand in battle, in the hope she'd learn to master the wand, or that it'd be sufficient to protect her. Voldemort had Hermione's blood running through his veins now and Hermione would be more vulnerable. Perhaps the shared blood still protected by Lily's sacrifice and the Deathly Hallows together would anchor her enough into this world so that only the Horcrux inside her would die. That wasn't much, but it was all he had.

In his cell, Gellert Grindelwald turned into a gigantic canary. He bent almost double with wheezing laughter as he shed the feathers on the floor, and the guards outside looked at each other and shook their heads, believing the old prisoner was going slowly senile.

Severus Snape, August 18th, 1995

"I'll make it worth your while," Lucius cajoled as he sipped the fine red wine. The house-elves had also delivered foie gras and crackers, and Lucius was taking delicate bites.

Severus sipped from his own glass, resisting the urge to irritate Lucius by downing his whole glass in one go. His reaction might have been amusing, but Severus knew Lucius held some of the finest wines in Britain and regularly sent one of the Hogwarts house-elves to Malfoy Manor to fetch a new crate from the cellars. Severus happened to know that since his arrival Lucius had already secreted several fine oak barrels of rum, sherry and port inside Hogwarts, and the cost of gulping from the delicate glass might be losing the chance to taste the fine and expensive vintages. In the Slytherin way, Severus evaluated the cost of short entertainment and sipped delicately, sighing in appreciation as the fine wine caressed his taste buds. "No," he replied once again.

"Another compensation then, Severus," Lucius wheedled. "Perhaps something from my library? I happen to know you'd appreciate the sixteenth-century treatise on the uses of werewolf parts. A fine book, if I do say so myself. Banned, of course, purchased by my grandfather from…"

"I think not," Severus declined, though the offer was tempting. "I have my own grading to do."

"Really, Severus?" Lucius drawled irritably. "You, declining a book?"

"Me, declining your work," Severus returned. "I'm the Head of Slytherin as well as Potions master, and I've my own work to do. You do realise you'll be required to grade their homework and essays as well as their exams?"

"I'd managed to forget about those." Lucius looked sour. "Funny how that wasn't mentioned in Dumbledore's offer."

"I believe he thought you remembered. But of course, you never did your own essays, did you?"

"Of course not. I paid well for it. I'd have paid you, had you been older."

"I probably could have done your work as a first-year."

"I wouldn't go that far, but it's good to hear your self-esteem hasn't suffered from being a turncoat for the Cause."

Severus put down his glass and glared at Malfoy. "Your whole cause is a sham. You know the Dark Lord is merely using your bigotry for his own gain. He promises everything and gives you nothing."

"I hadn't had cause to complain until I was forced to switch sides because of my foolish son and his idiotic choice of friends."

"You didn't have a cause, but I did."

"So, what did he promise you but could not deliver, Severus? I remember your education was paid for by his order. He asked us to open our hidden libraries for your perusal, which we did. Your brothers protected you from Potter and his little gang when they could. A mere week before he was defeated he asked me to draw a list of unmarried half-blooded witches as well as pure-blood witches born out of wedlock just for you, did you know? He'd have given you so much! Power, knowledge and influence."

Severus hadn't known about the list of available witches, though it didn't surprise him. The Dark Lord was intelligent and had been prepared to offer him a witch of his own choosing from what he considered a tolerable breeding pool in case Lily wouldn't stand down. Power and knowledge, that was what he'd been bought with. Acceptance and protection after Lily turned her back to him, oh yes, that he'd definitely had. Lily believed James and Sirius had grown up and stopped bullying him during their sixth-year, but frankly, it was because a few Slytherins had given them one hell of a beating in every way possible. They'd still done some small things mostly behind Lily's back but at that point she hadn't cared and had ignored him, even sneering at him a few times when he heard their remarks.

"That's none of your business," he told Lucius curtly, unwilling to divulge his pathetic secrets.

"Fine, keep your secrets." Lucius waved his hand nonchalantly. "Do you honestly think we'll survive this war on this side? Dumbledore will never win. We're completely dependent on his mercy with our Dark marks, and if we refuse to do his bidding, he'll give us up just to gain the upper hand. He'll never trust a Slytherin. I thought I could trust you, Severus." Lucius sounded hurt as well as tipsy. "I thought we were friends."

"And yet you introduced me to a madman who branded me like cattle," Severus returned.

"I carry the same brand myself, in case you have missed it," Lucius bit out. "And the Cause was just."

"I disagree. And in case you've missed it, you were serving a half-blood."

"Yes, yes." Lucius sounded tired now. "And the last heir of Salazar Slytherin, impure blood or not."

"I believe you know what the Gaunts became, for all their proud purity."

"And what will become of us with diluted blood and traditions cast aside? Our heritage will be in ruins! Muggle garbage littering our manors and their ill manners instead of courtesy."

Severus picked up his glass, refusing to join the pity-party. Lucius was moping and moaning again, and nothing he'd say would make him stop. "I'm working on removal for the Dark Mark," he told Lucius calmly.

"Any progress?"

"Not much yet, but I am working on it."

"Please do. I have nightmares about what the Dark Lord will do to us if Dumbledore decides we are of no use to him except as bait. He's already placed Narcissa in danger. In a poorly-furnished house with Barty Crouch and two pieces of filthy Muggle scum, no less! Did you know how insane Crouch is? He actually believes in all those old pure-blood etiquettes we stopped following centuries ago! He actually prefers to quote poetry and thinks he's being so perfect and clever. Narcissa is playing along but she's terrified of him. Fortunately, she remembered some things and studies ancient etiquette books at night just to keep him calm. The man actually is delusional enough to believe in all that. There's no telling what he'll do. And Dumbledore wants him on his side and places my wife with him? Slytherin have mercy on us all! We're lucky Narcissa is so clever and has such a good memory."

"She'll survive. Crouch might be insane but he'll never hurt a pure-blood woman who doesn't oppose him. She's a Slytherin through and through, and she'll have him eating at the palm of her hand in no time." Severus chose to ignore how Lucius had lamented the disappearing pure-blood traditions just a little earlier and now complained about Crouch using outdated customs. And the wine he was drinking certainly wasn't made by house-elves under the supervision of witches and wizards.

"She already has." Lucius' face was relaxing again, and he flicked his wand at the carafe to pour himself another glass. He usually preferred to have a house-elf to do this, but he didn't trust the Hogwarts house-elves to keep his secrets shared during private discussions like a personal elf would have. Or had, until that wretched creature, Dobby, had turned traitor. Severus knew it'd been a blow to Lucius. "My Narcissa, as cunning as she is beautiful. I wish I could be by her side like a husband should. Instead, I'll be lowered to teach filth how to repel Boggarts and Pixies." The blond wizard sounded bitter.

Severus felt a stab of envy like he often did when he faced loving and adoring couples. He'd never had a witch of his own, and the best way he'd found to describe his parents and their marriage was a Punch and Judy Show but with no laughter and more beatings. Severus had frequently wondered which puppet he'd have been, but probably the one who endured most of the beatings, after Mr. Tobias-Punch had finished beating up his own Eileen-Judy, of course.

"You've no cause to be so bitter now," he said instead. "Wait until the lessons begin. Every lesson you'll face a class ranging from complete dunderheads at best to retarded morons at worst. You'll see how they grow from irritating, loud, and nosy children to reckless, hormonal, and idiotic teenagers before they do us the biggest favour of all and leave for good. They're armed with a wand, an array of Jinxes and Curses and have about as much common sense and decency as a puddle of diluted weasel's piss. You'll not only be forced to teach them when they really don't want to learn, at night you'll be patrolling the cold corridors for rule-breakers, grading their barely legible essays and exams or supervising the detentions you'll be forced to give. And all this for a pittance of a salary while trying to look grateful for it while Dumbledore peddles sweets and attempts to make you smile and laugh."

"You are such a spot of joy and delight," Lucius commented and glared sourly.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, mate," Severus drawled with a deliberately thick Northern accent, which made Lucius shiver with disgust and set his glass down.

"Now," said Lucius, "about grading for me…"

.

Barty Crouch Jr, August 24th, 1995

Slipping out of the safe house had been easy with a little help from Winky, who was now fully loyal to him. Narcissa had retired to bed with all the polite pleasantries required and a pleasant feminine smile, and Barty had wished her good night, delighted to share a house with a properly civilised pure-blood witch. Even if their home was tainted by the Muggle scum hiding in their bedrooms.

Barty had left as soon as the house was silent. It wasn't his first foray outside, of course. He'd explored for a few weeks beforehand, acquired supplies and made sure he knew where he was going and where he could find the persons he was looking for. His endeavors had been successful, of course, and the result was currently bound and gagged on the forest floor, unconscious and taken by surprise to a place where he'd expected no disturbance.

The biggest and most dangerous beasts were often also the most arrogant. Barty needed to send a message, and nothing would send a message like this. Well, half the message, really.

Barty grinned, then thought what a wolfish grin it'd been and grinned some more before he pointed his wand at the bound figure and muttered, "Rennervate". Fenrir Greyback woke up almost instantly, roared and trashed in his clinking chains. His eyes flashed with rage, his nostrils flared and he struggled with all his might, but the chains held firm tight.

Barty tutted. "Silver chains. Funny what a wizard can do with cutlery, some candelabras and a nice transfiguration. Hello, Fenrir, it's been a while. How are you?" His voice was light and playful.

"Traitor!" Greyback roared. "I'll kill you! I'll tear you to little pieces! I'll lap up your blood, you bastard! You'll die screaming, coward!"

"Oh, there will be a death tonight, Fenrir, but it shan't be my death. I need to send a message, and what better message than the body of one who isn't Marked and who has managed to evade the Ministry so far? Your corpse alone shan't be enough, of course, oh no. It's not loud enough, is it, Fenrir? You're just a mangy half-breed. But he'll hear my message, and you'll be part of it."

Barty drew one of his blades and grinned some more. "I have some silver knives here. Nice and sharp ones. Steel just doesn't… cut it with you, does it?" He giggled as Greyback trashed and roared again, howling insults and his impotent fury. "Oh, you can scream all you want, half-breed. Howl for me."

That night Fenrir Greyback did howl, but the moon didn't care enough to answer.

*About the last chapter: Cedric Diggory was a fifth-year in PoA (where he catches the Snitch before Harry). He is thus a sixth-year in GoF and would have turned 17 somewhere between Sept. 1st and drawing of the Age Line. Thus he would have been a seventh-year in OoTP, had he not died. Cho is one year younger than Ced and a year older than Harry.

*Grindelwald was schooled at Durmstrang. I know the actor doesn't have an accent, but I prefer him more foreign. Thus he mixes up German and English in word order occasionally, as well as words. I know the movie had him name Dumbledore as the Elder Wand's owner, but in the books Voldemort interrogated him and Gellert didn't tell him anything. I do believe, like Dumbledore, that in the end Grindelwald did love Dumbledore in some way. Perhaps he even wanted to die because Albus was already dead? I did wonder if he'd only starved so disastrously after he'd learned of Albus' death, but I didn't want to change his appearance.

*Yes, Hermione's extremely explosive temperament is caused by the active Horcrux. It's also the reason she is more powerful than in the previous timeline, though, since a tiny bit of Voldemort's power is leaking into her, in addition to her skills in speaking Parseltongue. Of course Sirius is also pissing her off, her hormones are out of whack because the brain chemistry is all wrong for a young body, she's been Obliviated by Dumbledore and knows she'll have to battle Voldemort, but she also knows she'll never be as good in Defence as Harry was (or is), so she's feeling inadequate for the job. Also, she's just as frantic about her grades and afraid of disappointing everyone. Poor Hermione. She's not having it easy.
*One thing you'll all have noticed by now: the narrators are, on occasion, unreliable. Because I'm using focal points in storytelling, the characters are only giving their personal points of view, which isn't always the actual fact and truth, only what they perceive or remember. That's how the actual thought process works, really. Thus, yes, Barty Crouch Jr is utterly insane, the pure-blood poetry form of speech is ridiculous out of date and he's just delusional. Severus sees his ugly and unattractive features, bit is he as bad as he thinks? And while Severus doesn't believe Lucius is his friend, does he see their relationship otherwise?