Author's note: A massive welcome back to my wonderful readers. I could spend an entire page apologising and explaining why it has taken me a year (I think!?) to update this story or any of my fics. All I will say is that I am so so so sorry and that if I had had the time to write over the past year I would have! Life has been hectic, but I am back, and I hope to be able to write more consistently from now on. Trust me; no one is more excited about this than me! As you can tell by the size of this chapter, this segment alone has been a work in progress!

But enough of my chatter- I hope you enjoy this incredibly long, but hopefully interesting chapter! :)

The Struggles of a Spy- Chapter 4

Severus' POV

On the 1st of September, the beginning of yet another year of teaching at Hogwarts, I woke with a start; the oversized Dark Mark in my dream had swallowed me whole and I was gasping for breath, unable to escape from the glittering skull or the snake that slithered out of it. I sat up quickly and rubbed my eyes, eager to get rid of the memory and the feeling of being trapped within anything that resembled the Dark Lord.

I rarely remember my dreams, but of recent, I have had more and recalled more than would be considered normal for me. Not that this change was entirely surprising; since the Quidditch World Cup a few months ago, my mind has been filled with the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters more than I cared to admit. And Dumbledore's frequent meetings with me did not improve the matter; he was certain that my previous master was actively rising to power as we spoke. These were words I did not want to hear.

As I walked towards the bathroom, I grabbed the Daily Prophet sitting on my bedside and threw it unceremoniously into the bin; I was tired of staring at it trying to find an answer that was not amongst the ink. Dumbledore had, of course, questioned me about the behaviour of the Death Eaters, and I told him (and hoped that I was right), that such appalling behaviour towards Muggles and the desire to cause as much mayhem as possible for the Ministry was merely an act of 'fun' and nothing more. However, the presence of the Dark Mark in the sky that night was an entirely different matter. Though it was tempting to pin the blame on Potter, for it was his wand (Albus' sources informed him) that performed the magic, I knew it could not have been him.

I sighed; it is unbelievable that every year that boy without fail manages to be at the wrong place at the wrong time for almost every dangerous and/or controversial event that takes place in our world. As tempting it was to continue cursing him silently in my mind whilst I showered, I knew that neither his knowledge nor his magical capacity would allow him to conjure the mark. No, a Death Eater most certainly conjured it. Throwing the Dark Mark into the sky was not an action one would consider a prank or having 'just a bit of fun'. The conjurer meant business, and Albus felt certain that that individual, whoever they were, were sending an implicit message from the Dark Lord to his followers and the Wizarding world: 'I am rising to power once again- join me or your lives will be filled with the terror and casualties you suffered 13 years ago'. I hoped Dumbledore was wrong, because if he wasn't, that would mean there was a Death Eater at large who was not only communicating with the Dark Lord, but was determined enough to steal Potter's wand and perform Morsmordre under the nose of hundreds of ministry witches and wizards. Neither Dumbledore nor I could identify any individual (not securely locked up in Azkaban) who could be in such a position. However the Headmaster's fixation on Crouch and his house elf 'Winky' seemed to play on his mind- a connection that I did not yet understand.

I closed my eyes and allowed the rain of water fall onto my face as I prepared myself for what would be a long day. If I had foolishly held hopes that this year would be more peaceful than the previous three, my expectations were now significantly altered. However, there seemed little point in continuing to speculate what was going on beneath the surface; knowing my luck, the answer will become ever more evident at Hogwarts in the presence of 'the Chosen One'. Exactly what I was expecting, I did not know. However, I knew Dumbledore was also wary; he appointed Mad-Eye Moody as the new Defence against the Dark Arts professor for this year, much to my displeasure; Moody has previously demonstrated significant suspicion of me and continues to doubt my allegiance to Dumbledore. I did not need his sly remarks and hints following me around the school, especially not within earshot of the students; it would cause tremendous difficulties for me if they discovered I was a Death Eater. Although I made a significant effort to persuade him otherwise, Albus refused to hire anyone else for the job; he wanted an Auror close by to assist us to keep a close eye on things, especially in light of the arrival of Igor Karkaroff, a Death Eater who claimed to have 'renounced his ways' shortly after the Dark Lord's downfall. He was now Headmaster of Durmstrang, a European Wizarding school who was renowned for teaching dark magic. He was due to join Hogwarts with a few select students to compete in the Triwizard Tournament this year.

I expressed my displeasure with Albus when I heard that the Tournament would be conducted this year; as if there wasn't already enough for us to think about! But Dumbledore insisted the competition must take place as planned; surely I did not expect him to delay such a momentous event and deprive our students of so much excitement and the opportunity to converse with international students? But that was exactly what I wanted of him and when he did not budge, I stormed out of his office shouting at him that he would regret it, and that my focus would remain on the safety of one student, and one student only: Harry Potter, no matter who the champion was. Dumbledore did not object and waved me off peacefully as I slammed his door behind me.

I had not spoken with Albus face-to-face since my outburst and wondered whether he had spent any time considering my short, mild threats… I doubted it. I gathered my belongings which I had packed the previous night and walked into the early morning air. I locked my home, discretely placed the appropriate security charms and detectors around my property before walking briskly up the street to the same location I always use to disapparate to and from Hogsmede Station. I stood in the shadows with my trunk as I discretely turned from side to side to make sure there were no disturbances around me. When I was certain I was quite alone, I disapparated for yet another year as spy… another year at Hogwarts… another year protecting Harry Potter.

Severus' POV

For the first time since Potter has attended Hogwarts without an escort, the boy had managed to arrive without incident and in time for the Sorting. Although I found the Sorting of students to be a tedious event, I appreciated not being summoned by Dumbledore to be mindful of the boy's whereabouts for once. However, my mind was not at peace for two reasons; soon Alastor Moody would be arriving, in fact, he was already late, and second, because the students were still ignorant of the fact that the Triwizard Tournament would be held at Hogwarts this year. I glared over at Potter who happened to be scanning the staff table as I did so. For an instant we made eye contact, his gaze of apparent innocence. But I knew that he was hiding information from Dumbledore about his scar which had woken him one morning during the holidays. He saw fit to inform his Godfather, and Black felt it important that Albus was aware. Out of the corner of my eye, I continued to watch the boy as he ate happily with his peers; he could not possibly know how much that small piece of information could affect so many of us.

After receiving Black's letter, Dumbledore contacted me at my home and requested a meeting the very next day. Although I am never bored at home, I rarely have fixed engagements or schedules, so was able to meet him as planned, at which point he informed me of what Potter had felt.

Albus eyed me and I could tell that he was concerned by what this could mean.

"Why would Potter's scar be hurting?" I asked, a bite in my tone; surely the pain was only momentary and had very little to do with me.

Albus sighed quietly. "I suspect that his scar aches whenever Voldemort is physically close by or feels a particularly strong emotion."

I stared at Albus, my eyes wide as I tried to contemplate either option.

"He cannot be in Little Whinging," I asserted. "You would know- someone would know."

"Yes, that is true," Dumbledore replied patiently.

"However, he should not be able to feel a strong emotion unless he had something to feel strongly about, and surely it would also require a physical body of some kind otherwise Potter's scar would likely have pained him his whole life."

"Indeed, Severus," the Headmaster said encouragingly, whilst nevertheless being no closer to simply telling me what was happening.

"So you think- you think the Dark Lord is in touch with someone? Wormtail!" I hissed.

Albus' eyes light up like fire, and I knew instantly he suspected the same thing, but he did not reply as I continued.

"You think he- the Dark Lord is becoming stronger because Wormtail is helping him somehow?" I wondered, hardly believing that such a significant conclusion could be drawn from one instance of Potter's scar hurting.

"Yes, that is my prediction, Severus," Dumbledore stated, resolution in his eyes and on his face. "I am not sure what Peter is able to do for Tom or how valuable his deeds are for his master. I cannot say how quickly he will rise to power, but with one of his servants returned to him, he will one day return, I suspect, fully formed amongst the living."

I rubbed my left forearm subconsciously. Dumbledore noticed and eyed me with concern.

"Have you noticed-"

I opened my mouth to answer, but then closed it again, which caused the Headmaster to cease talking.

I expected him to press me for an answer, but instead he watched me carefully, patiently as he waited for me to gather my thoughts.

"I thought I noticed my Mark had become clearer," I admitted quietly, as I rubbed my left forearm absentmindedly. "But I dismissed it – I thought I was imagining it. However, if your theory is correct, then perhaps…" I trailed off, my hand still over my Mark.

"May I see?" Dumbledore asked gesturing towards my arm, clearly interested.

I snatched my hand away, frustrated with myself.

"Is it bothering you?" the Headmaster asked, concerned, thinking that my anger stemmed from something else- fear, perhaps.

"No," I answered shortly, silently berating myself for my moment of weakness. I then took a measured breath before rolling up my sleeve so Albus could see the Mark that was burned into my skin some 16 years ago.

The Headmaster quickly stood up from behind his desk and walked around to stand next to me so he could view my Mark in better light. Gently, he placed the tips of his long fingers against my skin as if this aided him to examine the Mark more clearly. In those minutes of silence, I wondered if Dumbledore had ever seen the Dark Mark on someone's skin before. If this was the case, then I am not surprised he nearly jumped out of his chair with enthusiasm. I waited patiently for him to finish eyeing my left forearm, though given how long he was taking my only explanation I swear he was trying to commit the image and the precise tone of the mark to memory.

"How would you describe the colour normally," Dumbledore suddenly asked as if his two minutes of previous silence was nothing unusual.

"Pale gray," I replied instantly, "Noticeable upon close inspection, but I imagine if I waved my arm once in front of the students, they would not notice."

"Would you say it appears darker now?

I paused to consider my answer. Albus averted his eyes from my mark to examine my face.

"I think it is clearer- not necessarily darker..." I attempted to clarify.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed as he watched me, as if trying to understand what I could mean.

"See these lines," I indicated with my right pointer finger as I traced the outline of the mark.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied keenly.

"These lines have grown darker of recent- the outline of the Dark Mark is clearer which naturally makes the entire thing easier to see. However, I don't believe the rest of the mark has changed... yet."

"Ah, I see," Dumbledore nodded his head, his own finger now tracing the outline of my mark. "Mmm yes, the outline does look a shade darker than the rest, doesn't it?"

I tilted my head towards him and said nothing; I didn't think he was expecting an answer to his question anyway.

Despite this, Dumbledore continued to examine the mark even though I was certain a wizard as brilliant as him would have already committed the entire thing to memory. Feeling slightly uncomfortable that he was taking such an interest in it, I cleared my throat and begun to move my arm from within his grasp.

"Oh, my apologies, Severus," Dumbledore replied, apparently startled and genuinely apologetic. "I am afraid I was lost in thought."

I inclined my head towards him- accepting his excuse.

"I will be sure to let you know if I notice it becoming clearer," I assured him, and I meant it; if Albus' suspicions were correct, which they were bound to be, then every small piece of information mattered.

"Thank you, Severus," he replied, straightening up and moving to the other side of his desk, apparently returning his focus to the task at hand rather than my Mark. "And if our conclusion is correct, I am certain the disappearance of Bertha Jorkins is not a coincidence."

I watched Dumbledore sit into his armchair before asking:

"Why? You think the Dark Lord killed her?"

Albus met my gaze, clearly saddened by what he believed to be true.

"Yes, and I have reason to believe that the Muggle Frank Bryce's death is also related."

"Why do you believe that?"

"He was the gardener the Riddles, that is, Tom Riddle Snr and his parents hired to look after their property."

I had no doubt he was right; the Dark Lord despised his Muggle parentage and would be sure to eliminate all aspects of it as soon as he was capable.

"Could he be there now?" I asked, my chest sinking as I spoke, being able to track the Dark Lord's steps made his return to power all the more real.

"If he is no longer there, then I am certain he was," Albus sighed wearily as he rose and walked towards the cabinet behind me which I knew housed the Pensieve, though I had never seen him use it before. He lifted the round stone basin from its stand and placed it heavily on his desk. I remained silent as the Headmaster extracted one of his memories and placed its liquid, gaseous form in the basin, and then returned to sit in his armchair. I stood up slightly so I could watch what happened next. To my surprise, my own face looked up out of the basin before disappearing into the silvery pool that was the rest of Albus' extracted memories.

"I wish to keep record of our speculations, Severus," he explained to me.

"If- if you have suspected where the Dark Lord is, why didn't you go to his father's old home and destroy him?" I asked hesitantly feeling that Albus would have done something that simple if it really was that simple.

"My killing him would not have destroyed him, just as the rebounded killing curse from 13 years ago did not kill him."
"So what will?" I dared to ask.

I must have asked an important question, because Albus placed his elbows on his desk and rested his chin on his hands, his eyes watching me carefully. Nevertheless, he gave me a small smile.

"What do you think?" he asked me, his genuine interest in my ideas evident on his face. But I honestly had no idea; after all, if the killing curse didn't kill him, what else would?

"I do not know," I replied honestly, feeling foolish for Albus clearly expected I would have an idea. However, Dumbledore did not seem perturbed by my ignorance.

"I expect it will come to light eventually," he said jovially as he stood up- I knew our meeting was over, so I followed suit.

"You- you're not going to tell me?" I confirmed with him. "Why not?" I then demanded, feeling it was important information I should be aware of.

We were now standing face-to-face in front of Albus' desk.

"If I am correct and Tom is returning to power, I feel it would be foolish of me to inform my spy who, despite being highly intelligent, capable, and respected by me, will be in Voldemort's presence too often for me to feel comfortable telling you how I have planned for his demise."

"I still deserve to know," I hissed, feeling I had been ill treated.

"I am certain more information will be revealed in time, Severus," the Headmaster attempted to placate me as he gestured towards his door. "Thank you for meeting with me tonight."

I grunted in response as I left his office, my mind still struggling to find even one possible way the Dark Lord could be destroyed...

Dumbledore was just beginning to inform the school of the Triwizard Tournament being held at the school this year when, with apparent perfect timing, the doors to the Great Hall flew open as thunder sounded outside, and there stood Moody. I ignored the growing trepidation rising within me as I watched the man limp loudly towards the staff table. I refused to accept the possibility that I was frightened of him when he has never actually hurt or attacked me before. However, it has always been clear that he did not believe Albus' faith in me was warranted, perhaps because I forbade Dumbledore give him the evidence he required. Thus, I was to face the consequences of the secrecy I had forced upon the Headmaster, which included a snarky, vigilant Mad-Eye Moody.

Thankfully his interest in my presence was minimal at the moment and understandably so; every eye was on him as he attempted to keep his eye on everyone around him. When he finally reached the Headmaster, the latter queried the smoothness of his travel, which was given a silent shake of the head, before he thumped to his seat and begun to eat, clearly hungry. Of course, I had heard of the substantial physical... deformities that Moody had endured over the years, but had not dared examine them closely whenever I have been in his presence... until now. Amusingly, my level of surprise at his foreboding appearance was minimal compared to the students and a majority of the staff.

When Dumbledore had finished introducing him to the school as their new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, no one applauded except for Albus and Hagrid, who I suppose sees far more unusual creatures on a regular basis. Their applause was awkward amongst the shock of those in the hall, and they ceased quickly, leaving quiet whispers in its wake. All the while, Moody seemed none the wiser and indifferent to being so poorly received by staff and students.

After a respectful pause, Dumbledore continued what he was saying before being interrupted which was met by less excitement than I was expecting. Although Fred Weasley made it clear to everyone present that he knew what the Triwizard Tournament was, few others seemed to know or have heard of the term before. Once it was explained, there was a definite air of excitement that told me, despite any precaution Dumbledore would place around the cup, that some foolish students had every intention of trying to enter anyway. Knowing how seriously Albus took the tournament, insofar that specific rules had been created to reduce as many injuries and deaths as possible, I had no doubt that those over-eager, desperate for recognition students would fail in their attempts to thwart the system. Once all of the students had left, I rose from the table myself, and managed to leave peacefully without having to say a word to Moody who was listening to something Dumbledore was quietly telling him. What they were discussing I didn't know or care though I presumed the Headmaster was updating Moody on the plans for the Triwizard Tournament given the latter was not involved in its preparation. As I walked back to my office in preparation for sleep, I wondered how long I could last before I was forced, whether by Albus or the man himself, to speak to him.

By lunch time on Monday I had heard multiple assertions from students, as they conversed amongst themselves, that Moody's lessons were 'brilliant', 'impressive', and apparently it is 'evident that he knows what it's really like to fight the Dark Arts'. If only they knew. I should clarify that all students but my own Slytherins were this enthusiastic. Some of my Slytherin students were less thrilled after being in one of Moody's classes, due to having at least one Death Eater for a parent. These unfortunate souls, I heard, were attacked with verbal insinuations from Moody that they were related to a Death Eater in front of their class, much to the horror of their peers. Immediately I could see a tremendous issue if Moody continues to behave this way; the school will be aware of Death Eater parentage of some of their students causing a commotion I did not want to, but would be forced to be, a part of. I planned to warn Dumbledore of this when we next met, but in the mean time, I was vigilant everywhere I went in the event that Moody attempted to attack me under the pretence that he had heard rumours (as they always do each year) that I wanted his job. Despite hearing a huge amount about Moody, including his transfiguration of Draco Malfoy in the Entrance Hall which was deemed impressive and amusing by everyone except the boy and his cronies, I did not hear from or speak to Moody on Monday.

However, on Tuesday morning as I was leaving the Hall to the dungeons, Moody entered through the back doorway just as I was exiting it causing me to nearly knock the cane from underneath him with my foot.

"Sorry," I muttered, suddenly feeling that dreaded trepidation rise within my chest.

"I doubt very much that you are, Snape," Moody stated menacingly, both of his eyes looking at me. Feeling vulnerable and uncomfortable, I bowed in apology which was met with a raucous laughter from the man in front of me.

"The guilty are so easy to manipulate," Moody grunted with superiority as if he had somehow garnered an unforeseen amount of wisdom from my poor decision.

"What do you mean by that?" I demanded, feeling incensed; guilty of what?

"And the frightened, just as easily," Moody continued as if I hadn't spoken, though the crooked jeer on his face told me otherwise.

"Are you suggesting that I am afraid?" I demanded, feeling myself shake slightly.

"Of me? Oh yes indeed," Moody chuckled as he plodded his way towards the staff table. "Which will make watching you all the more interesting," he laughed croakily and then thudded his way out of sight. I wanted to chase after him; he could not get away with saying such things to me, but knew it would do little good causing a scene in front of the students and staff who remained in the hall.

As I stalked angrily towards the dungeons in preparation for 4th years, I realised that this was between myself and Moody – I dreaded his reaction if he heard I had spoken with the Headmaster to 'dob' on him. My resolution to 'just deal with it' incensed me for I felt there was little revenge to be had. However, I attempted to force these feelings aside as Potter's class filed into my dungeon.

I took a deep breath in an effort to calm myself and then proceeded to conduct my class as if nothing was amiss. However, within minutes Longbottom had managed to melt his sixth cauldron in my class, and I had just about had enough. How the boy managed to melt a cauldron was beyond me, but clearly that boy's wand or his mind had it in for the both of us. I shouted at Longbottom to fetch himself another cauldron and that he had landed a detention with me for later in the week for being so incompetent. I also told him that if he melted another cauldron this year, it would be detentions for a week. White faced and sweating, the boy did as I asked. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Weasley and Potter glance at one another with their eyebrows raised, and then began to speak to each other. I flew down upon them and demanded they get back to work, which they obediently did. However, it would not do well for students to notice that I was in a foul mood in case such news reached Moody, who would surely have a field day knowing that he affected me.

.

I managed to endure the remainder of the day without incident; I never interacted with Moody again and kept my temper at its usual cool indifference. I continued to hear regular chatter regarding Moody's classes, apparently each lesson becomes more and more interesting, which was beginning to grind on my nerves; it wasn't that the man was a better liked teacher than I that agitated me, but because they admired his 'constant vigilance', his peculiar demeanour, and high suspicion of everyone. But if this was the worst I would have to endure, then I could handle it; Dumbledore need never know the bitterness I was suppressing.

I maintained my silence until the following Thursday evening. I had heard, as I had not done before, that Moody had introduced Potter's class to the Unforgiveable curses and performed them on three spiders, which was crossing a dangerous legal and moral line. However, a week later I was hearing ridiculous, though undoubtedly true tales that the man was using the Imperius curse on our students, which was unforgiveable, pun intended, not to mention illegal, or at least it should have been. This news could not pass without my telling the Headmaster, so after dinner I walked to Dumbledore's office to inform him of what I had overheard.

As I approached the golden gargoyle ready to provide the Headmaster's password, the statue begun to turn; someone had just visited Dumbledore and was leaving his office. Before I saw who it was I heard the familiar 'thunk', 'thunk' as none other than Moody walked down the spiral staircase.

Just my luck.

He caught my eye as he landed on the threshold and provided a jagged smirk.

"Snape," he acknowledged me, inclining his head in my direction.

"Professor Moody," I returned respectfully, bowing slightly before I realised what I was doing.

Moody chuckled. "Visiting Dumbledore are you? A particular topic on your mind you wish to discuss with him?" he queried, both of his eyes looking at me. Immediately, I engaged in Occlumency just in case the man decided to pry into my mind.

"Obviously, otherwise I would have no reason to visit him," i replied through gritted teeth; I do not remember Moody being so talkative, clearly he enjoyed making me feel uncomfortable.

"Yes, though I don't suppose it would have anything to do with the Triwizard Tournament and the impending arrival of Karkaroff? Obviously he was once a friend of yours," he jeered, "though given he turned you in, however unsuccessfully, I suspect he has lost your favour now."

I stared furiously at the ex-auror, hating the way he was baiting me. I resolved then and there to mention to Dumbledore the disrespect he was showing me- I no longer cared if Moody thought I was weak as a result.

I continued to remain silent; to respond either way would place me in a difficult situation. To state that I would remain on speaking terms with Karkaroff meant that I did not take his accusation personally as I knew many of the Death Eaters did, but to state that I had not or will not forgive that transgression would make it difficult for me to justify why I would be speaking to the man when he arrived for which Dumbledore and I already have a plan.

When Moody also did not continue to speak, and simply stared at me as if daring me to talk, I eventually stated as calmly as I could.

"Could you please step aside so I can meet with the Headmaster?" I requested civilly.

"Mmmh," Moody grunted apparently disgruntled that I was not more discomposed by his behaviour. He then clunked a couple of steps to his left so I could shift pass him, which I did as soon as I plausibly could. I stated the password in what I hoped was in a confident tone and then ascended the revolving staircase as fast as it would allow.

I felt somewhat relieved when I saw the Headmaster's door knock. After turning around to make sure Moody had not miraculously managed to silently follow me, I knocked twice on the oak door.

"Come in," Dumbledore replied. I opened the door, entered silently, and then closed it behind me, not wishing to announce why I had come until the door was sealed.

"Good evening, Severus," Albus welcomed me, his bright blue eyes surveying me from over his interlocked fingers, appearing alert and interested by my presence.

I inclined my head in response before sitting in the chair in front of his desk. My silence did not perturb him.
"To what do I owe this unexpected, though welcome, meeting?"

"Moody," was all I was able to say.

"Ah ha," Dumbledore said with encouragement.

"I heard this afternoon that he had performed the Imperius curse on his 4th year students today," I reported, my indignation returning to me as I spoke.

Dumbledore stared at me for some time before answering.

"I am aware of it. In fact, Professor Moody just met with me to recount the events of that class."

"Excuse me!?" I exclaimed. "I need not remind you Dumbledore that it is illegal to perform such spells on students."

"I am well aware of the laws, Severus," the Headmaster replied patiently. "Professor Moody presented to me his teaching plans for each year of the school for me to approve, so I have been aware for some time that he intended to discuss and demonstrate the Unforgiveable curses to Hogwarts' 4th years."

I spluttered.

"Why the 4th years? Why not the 5th, 6th or 7th years? You don't think it is unusual that he specifically targeted the year Potter is a member of?"

"Severus, Alastor indeed acknowledged that he wanted to target Harry's year for the specific purpose of showing Harry what he may be confronted with if Voldemort returns to power, which Alastor also believes will occur in the near future."

"Well there is no point in using the Imperius curse on Potter- the Dark Lord intends to kill him- so what's the point?"

"The point is, Severus, that if any of Voldemort's Death Eaters, who I imagine would not be permitted to kill Harry, were to successfully Imperius Harry, we could be in an unspeakable amount of trouble."

"The boy would hardly be a threat-"

"That is not what I mean, Severus, and you know that," Dumbledore replied sternly. "As it so happens, Alastor was very excited to inform me of what happened in his lesson today for it would seem that Harry was the only student in his class who was able to resist the Imperius curse."

I did not know how to respond so sat silently staring into Albus' eyes waiting for him to tell me he was joking. But he didn't.

"I must admit that I feel relieved by this information," Dumbledore added pleasantly. "And as none of Harry's peers demonstrated any sign of being able to resist the curse, I have asked Professor Moody to stop and to teach them to defend against another spell."

"Right," I replied shortly. "Well I also wanted to tell you that Moody has been insinuating in his classes that some of the Slytherins are related to Death Eaters. I am concerned that if these students' peers became aware of this information..."

"Yes, I have noticed that Alastor tends to revel in reminding others what he has done with regard to their capture, including I suppose, the perpetrator's children. I will have a word with him, Severus," Dumbledore promised.

"And could you also ask him to do the same with me?" I added quickly and harshly, my resentment coming through.

"Has he been giving you a difficult time?" Dumbledore asked genuinely concerned.

"He just... he strives to make me feel uncomfortable and clearly gets pleasure out of doing so. I would have arrived to your office 5 minutes sooner, but I actually met Moody at the bottom of the gargoyle. He made sly remarks about what I might wish to speak to you about, and made reference to Karkaroff's arrival and whether I had forgiven him for turning me in all those years ago!"

"I see," Dumbledore said calmly. "I am sorry that he does not believe in your innocence, nor trusts my judgement enough to believe me when I say you have my utmost trust and respect. But alas, Alastor Moody relies on his facts and what he knows, and unfortunately, no one but I know very much when it comes to your allegiance, Severus," he reminded me gently and then stood up to stand by my side.

"I will ask Moody to stop speaking to you in such a way, for his suspicion of you is, in a way, demonstrating disrespect for me."
I nodded my head in appreciation.

"Was there anything else you wished to tell me, Severus?"

"No, that is all, Headmaster," I replied, standing up in preparation to leave.

"Have you noticed anything further regarding your Mark?" Dumbledore asked me seriously.

"No," I told him honestly, "it has not become any clearer since we last spoke."

"Very well," he replied. "I hope you have a pleasant night, Severus."

I bowed in his direction and then exited his office wondering if Moody would actually listen to the Headmaster's wishes with regards to me. Somehow, I doubted it.

The school was highly anticipating the arrival of our international guests, as was I, though for a different reason. In fact, I only desired to eye Karkaroff who was a fellow Death Eater, but had renounced his ways in front of a Ministry hearing shortly after the Dark Lord's demise. In light of the number of people the man turned in to the Ministry (as demonstration of his reformation), including myself, I felt he would be too cowardly to return to the Death Eater ranks should the Dark Lord rise to power again. However, Dumbledore understandably set me the task of conversing with Karkaroff just to make sure his mindset had not changed from 13 years ago, and if possible, determine his current thoughts about the Dark Lord.

Aside from appearing older, with more lines on his face, paler skin, and grey hair, the man in question looked exactly how I would have predicted. He entered Hogwarts as if he owned the place, his chest up high, his nose pointed upwards, and provided Dumbledore with an artificially friendly greeting which was returned with an imperial civility only Albus could pull off. Although we had not communicated in over 13 years, there was an unspoken agreement between myself and Karkaroff, it would seem, to refrain from demonstrating our previous relationship in front of others; it would do neither of us well for the students and staff to know we were both Death Eaters.

The second night Karkaroff was at Hogwarts, he came to visit me in my office after dinner on his way back to the Durmstrang ship. His students sat at Slytherin table so it was understandable that myself, as Head of Slytherin, and Karkaroff would be communicating frequently.

He highly anticipated the Triwizard Tournament and in particular placed high hopes on his famous student Viktor Krum, to become Champion of his school. I had not watched a Quidditch match in which he played, but judging by his duck footedness and general dullness, I did not share in Karkaroff's hopes.

I had heard in the corridors that Dumbledore's age line had successfully prevented individuals from putting their name into the Goblet of Fire, so was confident that for once something would go as planned. Despite the added work for the staff this year, such as being responsible for more children and negotiating this whilst still conducting our classes as usual, I was mildly interested in exactly what the Tournament would include, what the tasks would be, and how each school would fare.

It was with anticipation that I, and everyone around me, sat in the Great Hall watching the Goblet of Fire turn red to produce the first student's name- that from Durmstrang, which to my surprise, turned out to be Krum, Karkaroff's prized student. The Beauxbaton's student was chosen next, and then Hogwart's champion was announced: Cedric Diggory. There was a tremendous cheer, particularly from the Hufflepuff table as the boy in question stood up and walked towards the staff. The boy was reasonably talented, a hard worker, generally polite and well-meaning, and all things considered he was a worthy champion to represent our school. I applauded him with the other staff members, and then made to take a sip from my goblet.

I had time to take a single sip, before I saw the Goblet light up again out of the corner of my eye. I lowered it slowly. I didn't dare move or breathe all the while trying to force myself not to contemplate what my gut knew to be true: some unspeakable havoc was about to rain down on us.

"Harry Potter," Dumbledore said out loud, reading off the piece of parchment the Goblet had produced. It took everything in my power not to swear upon hearing Potter's name. In fact it was difficult not react at all. Potter appeared stunned and pale as a sheet, unable to move. Everyone was understandably staring at him and the Hall was completely silent, except for the thrumming of blood in my ears.

"Harry Potter! Harry! Up here, if you please!" Dumbledore called for the boy again.

I saw Miss Granger nudge him, and then eventually stood shakily and walked away from the Gryffindor table. I tried to remain neutral as I watched the boy with trepidation and scepticism as he stumbled down the aisle to the head table. In a matter of seconds, I had shifted from feeling surprised, to confused, to fearful, to angry. Judging by the outrage on Karkaroff's face I knew he did not place Potter's name in the Goblet, and no one else at the school, as far as we knew, were working for the Dark Lord. This meant that either Potter managed to get past Dumbledore's age line by using some powerful magic or he asked an of-age student to put his name in. Either way, Potter was to blame, as he always was for the difficulties he found himself in, or at least that is how I comforted myself to avoid the alternative possibility; that he really is incredibly unlucky.

I was not able to process what was happening around me; I could not tell if there were whispers or speech or just the deafening silence that was ringing in my ears. In those two minutes I contemplated what this would mean; regardless of whose fault it was, the boy would have to compete against students who were undoubtedly smarter, more knowledgeable, and more skilled than he. Every task would now be filled with a level of fear I have yet to experience; there was nothing I could do to protect him from tasks designed to be dangerous, which made me furious. Why was this kid so hard to protect all the damn time!? I repressed my autonomic system from shaking with rage and frustration, as I stood up at Albus' request and followed select staff into the Champion's room located behind the staff table to discuss the unthinkable situation.

One could cut the tension and the aggravation in the room with a knife, though it was quickly dissected by Madame Maxime and Karkaroff's various accusations which were all understandably directed at Dumbledore. Although the Headmaster held himself in a manner I expected from him given his many years of experience with unexplainable mishaps, I had difficulty repressing my own desire to defend him, though I knew he was perfectly able to on his own. There was not a doubt in my mind that this outcome would have been the very last Dumbledore would have wanted and in no way was he to blame for it. My outrage that the Heads of the other schools could not see this- the fact that they were not more concerned about what the Hell just happened, angered me to no end. Amongst their discussion, I interrupted, informing them that it must be Potter's fault (for it certainly wasn't Dumbledore's), after all, he has been crossing lines since he began at the school.

However, Dumbledore did not seem to appreciate my attempt to take the heat away from him, so to speak.

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted me, and although I forced myself to remain silent, my anger could not be perturbed as I stared at the boy, dreading the year to come. Feeling that perhaps the extent of my anger should be shielded from others, I stepped back slightly into the shadows so my face would be less visible.

"Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" Dumbledore asked Potter seriously and calmly.

"No," Potter replied as I knew he would and made a noise of disbelief from where I stood, for it would be unusual for me not to vocalise some air of objection given he just contradicted me.

After Potter also denied asking an older student to enter his name for him, to the objection of Madame Maxime, I found myself shaking my head, in disbelief, my lip curling in repressed frustration; if it wasn't Potter, who the Hell was it?

Dumbledore was then accused of making an error with the Age Line which I was tempted to object to, but thankfully McGonagall spoke, insisting that Albus knew, as we all did, that he would not- could not have made an error.

Karkaroff then threatened to leave the competition if he was not allowed to enter the names of all of his students, a threat responded to by none other than Moody who was clunking his way into the room. He reminded us that each name that came out of the Goblet would have to compete as it will not light again until the next tournament. Thus, we had no choice; all four Champions would need to participate. There was the expected level of whining and complaining, but it was punctuated by Moody's reminder that if anyone was to complain it would be Potter, and he was right; the boy had said nothing since been chosen. I was ironically thankful for the ex-auror's vigilant, arguably paranoid nature for he stated what I am sure Dumbledore, McGonagall and I had felt the moment Albus read Potter's name: that someone had entered Potter in the Tournament hoping he would be chosen... This was certainly a plot, and despite how obvious that should have been, neither Karkaroff or Maxime seemed to believe it. In fact, Karkaroff made the highly unwise decision to criticise and insult Moody in the process, to which he received the reply coming to him:

"It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff- as you ought to remember..."

"Alastor!" Dumbledore interjected warningly.

I glanced over at Karkaroff and saw his face turn red, clearly indignant and embarrassed.

Dumbledore smoothed out the situation as best he could, and the meeting ended shortly after this. Although the Headmaster invited the Heads of the other two schools to an evening drink, both of them silently refused as they left the room with their champion looking sour.

I stormed to Dumbledore's office, my rage barely under control. Thankfully it was late at night for neither staff nor student caught sight of my livid face and the towering mood I was in.

I provided the appropriate password and ascended the staircase stomping in an attempt to expel my anger. I grabbed the Headmaster's door knocker and 'knocked' far harder than would be considered polite or necessary. I did not wait for a reply and burst through the door, unable to contain myself. Dumbledore greeted me with an air of pleasant surprise, his eyebrows raised, his eyes wide as he studied me from behind his desk.

"Severus!" he welcomed, though the surprise in his voice was unmistakable. "It is late, to what do I owe-"

Impatient to begin and completely indifferent to his polite dialogue, I stood close to the door, unwilling to move closer; depending on his response, I may be tempted to walk out again.

"You had me searched!" I shouted, shaking with rage.

"Excuse me?" Dumbledore asked, apparently confused.

"Moody! He was in my office without my knowing and would have left it without informing me if I hadn't caught him! He told me that he was searching my office on your orders! What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore!?" I demanded.

Some level of understanding registered in the Headmaster's eyes and he sighed.

"Please calm down, Severus."

"So it's true? I never would have believed this of you- after everything I have done- if you think that I had something- anything to do with Potter-"

"Severus," Dumbledore interrupted me, standing up out of his chair clearly ready to stop me from leaving as I was close to doing. "Please sit down," he requested as he gestured towards the chair in front of his desk.

"You are not denying it, Dumbledore! I did not promise to protect the boy so that I could be treated this way!" I shouted, my body shaking uncontrollably.

Dumbledore raised his hands in surrender and approached me slowly.

"Moody's decision to search your office was not something I specifically requested," the Headmaster explained. "I did however, give him permission to do 'whatever he thought necessary to explore and rule out the possible ways in which Harry's name might have been entered into the Goblet of Fire'. Unfortunately, it would seem that Alastor included you as one of those individuals who may wish to place Harry in danger, and I sincerely apologise," Dumbledore raised his voice then for I was about to interrupt, "for not insisting that he exclude you from his search."

I took a minute to process what Albus had said, my breath gradually slowing to a normal rate.

"Did you speak to him about the way he treats me?"

"I did," Dumbledore said. "Why? Has he continued to be inappropriate?" he checked in with me.

"No," I reluctantly admitted. "Aside from when I caught him in my office- he said that you ordered him to search it!" I repeated purposefully- I wanted to hear the Headmaster deny it.

"That is not entirely true as I have explained to you," Dumbledore said gently, and then sighed. "I am glad to hear he has otherwise been reasonable. I can understand your anger, Severus," he said sympathetically. "If I had indeed ordered a search of your office, it would have shown a level of mistrust and disrespect which I promise does not exist within me. There is no doubt in my mind that you are loyal to me and have every intention to protect Harry. I would bet everything I possess that you did not put his name in the Goblet of Fire," he asserted, his eyes maintaining my gaze to emphasise his unwavering honesty.

"Fine," I hissed and turned on my heel to leave, still too incensed to forgive him.

"I am sorry, Severus."

Ignoring him, I walked three steps to the door, wrenched it open and slammed it behind me.

I could not believe that this time tomorrow the first Triwizard Tournament task would take place. Time had flown incredibly quickly, and despite my continued attempts to ask Dumbledore what the task would entail, he refused to tell me stating that members of staff are not permitted to know. So I was understandably surprised when Dumbledore requested a private meeting with me the night before the first of three dreaded days. I walked into the Headmaster's office feeling ill-prepared for what was to come, but in the end I needn't have worried or cared; there was nothing I could do to assist the boy anyway.

"Dragons?" I repeated in outrage, finding myself standing opposite the Headmaster's desk. "Are you serious?" I demanded.

"Yes, Severus, one dragon per champion. Their goal is to retrieve the golden egg between the dragon's front legs for it provides them their clue for the second task- oh and I suppose it is relevant that they are nesting mothers," he added off-handedly.

"Oh perfect," I hissed. "How is Potter going to manage that? He'll be burned alive or attacked to death before he has any hope of reaching the egg of a nesting dragon!"

Dumbledore simply smiled at me.

"Do you know what he plans to do?" I asked quietly with scepticism.

Dumbledore continued to smile serenely at me.

"Albus," I said impatiently.

"Somewhat- I certainly have my suspicions. If he can concentrate enough, I am sure he will have a good chance."
I huffed in disbelief.

"Harry has many skills that could assist him in this task, though I believe his most prominent talent is the one he has chosen to utilise," Dumbledore surmised, a twinkle in his eye.

"You are proud of him," I muttered in disbelief.

"Ah well, I am not going to count my owls before they hatch, Severus, but if he manages to retrieve that egg, I will indeed be very proud," he told me and then chuckled.

"So you want me to do nothing?" I asked, for the absence of an order from him suggested this much.

"That is correct, though please do, as ever, keep an eye out for anything suspicious. No matter what Harry's plan, if someone is there with the desire that he should fail, nothing he does will be able to stop them," Dumbledore reminded me, his demeanour now more sullen.

"I will keep an eye out," I reassured him, and then turned to leave. I then turned back around, a thought coming to me. "Staff are not supposed to know what their champions will be facing so why were you informed?" I asked Dumbledore, feeling confused for Karkaroff had not so subtly asked me a week ago whether I knew what was in store.

The Headmaster chuckled as he tidied his desk in preparation for bed.

"I am not supposed to know, so please keep this conversation to yourself, Severus," he replied, winking at me. I stared at him.

"So how did you find out?" I followed, though really, the possibilities of how he managed it were multiple and varied.

"Well, I was actually informed by multiple sources, and swore to each of them that I would not tell Harry or Cedric what was to come, and I have kept that promise," he reassured me, smiling.

"I see," I answered, feeling that there was no point in pursuing the subject.

"Good night, Severus," Dumbledore said as his ascended the staircase to his sleeping quarters.

"Good night, Headmaster," I whispered, and then let myself out. I heard it lock closed behind me as Albus cast various protections around his office.

It would not have mattered how much I knew about the first task, walking down to the arena and looking down from the stands told me everything I would have wanted to know. As hundreds of students filed in to the stadium, one could see the small mountain of eggs in the middle of the arena with the golden one right in the centre. In the distance, one could hear the roars of magnificent beasts and see their fire burning its way through the tops of nearby trees- clearly the dragons were putting up a fight.

I settled into my seat in the middle of Professors McGonagall and Sprout, and directly opposite us was the judges table. I made eye contact with Dumbledore briefly before resuming my focus back onto the middle of the stadium, waiting with bated breath for the task to begin.

Of course, Potter ended up pulling out the dragon that will enter the stadium last, so I was forced to sit through three perceptively long, however interesting exhibits of the other champions who all successfully retrieved their eggs. The pressure was on Potter to similarly succeed, and it was with a huge amount of anticipation that I watched him walk into the arena, the Hungarian Horntail eying him with her wide, gold eyes.

"Accio Firebolt!" Potter yelled as if his life depended on it, which I suppose it did.

It was now clear what the boy planned to do, I just hoped his Quidditch skills would generalise to a situation where his opponent could breathe fire. The audience was dead silent as we watched Potter progress towards the dragon, trying to entice her to move away from her eggs. At first, she seemed to find him annoying and attempted to swat him out of her line of sight by flicking her sharp, pointed tail at him. There were several gasps and cries as Potter's shoulder was hit by the tail. I froze, incensed that there was nothing I could do and that Dumbledore was sitting serenely, apparently enjoying the spectacle before him not at all concerned that the dragon's tail could have caused Potter serious injury. I watched him closely; he seemed relatively uninjured as he remained balanced on his broom and continued to fly as he had before. He tried again to pull the dragon away from her eggs, and it seemed to be working this time around. We all watched as her head extended further and further towards the small, flying spec in front of her, and after a couple of minutes, she finally stood up.

Faster than the eye could see, Potter had dived towards the golden egg, and two seconds later he had it clutched in his hands- the fastest of all the champions to retrieve their egg. I tried not to appear impressed as I applauded with the rest of the crowd. I could hardly believe Potter so spectacularly completed the first task, and managed it with barely an incident. Turns out he didn't need rescuing or protecting, and was now in first position. Although there were smiles all around as everyone returned to the castle, talking animatedly about the first task, the different dragons, and the ins and outs of the performance of each champion, I caught Dumbledore's gaze who briefly provided me with a look of concern before continuing to talk to Madam Maxime. While we were relieved Potter was safe, we knew that the person who placed Potter's name in the Goblet of Fire would not have wanted this outcome. Although keeping him safe was our goal, what price would we be forced to pay? What lengths would his unseen enemy go to to ensure that Potter was hurt or killed? What if simply being in the Triwizard Tournament was not enough? What if they attempt to hurt him in other ways? Without knowing who the culprit was, the possibilities were endless, and I knew the Headmaster was thinking the same way.

It would come to no surprise to anyone that the Yule Ball was far from my idea of 'fun'. In fact, I had told Dumbledore the night before that I did not plan on attending, but he insisted on it with a smile.

"It is tradition, Severus," he reminded me pleasantly as if I cared at all for 'traditions'.

I snorted.

"It is important that we present Hogwarts in a positive light. I know that Karkaroff, at the very least, would notice your absence. As your House is hosting the Durmstrang students, I think it essential-"

"Fine, Dumbledore," I interrupted, knowing I was not going to be able to get out of the tedious event.

"Besides, I hope it will be an ideal opportunity for you to speak privately with Karkaroff without others being able to overhear," Dumbledore added seriously.

I had not considered this, and was not convinced that such an opportunity would arise. In that moment, I concluded that I needed to attend; due to conducting classes every day and students being ever present before and after meals, I had not spoken to Karkaroff about more personal matters since he arrived at Hogwarts.

I had, however, noticed my Dark Mark becoming clearer as the months continued, and had informed Albus of this. I was curious (as was Dumbledore) whether Karkaroff had noticed the change also, and if so, what his reaction was.

The instant Karkaroff and I were conceivably alone as we walked around the grounds, he near attacked me in a quiet whisper.

"Severus, what do you think it means?"

Of course, I knew exactly what he was referring to, but feigned ignorance.

"What are you talking about, Igor?" I questioned him equally as quietly.

"You know to what I am referring," he whispered heatedly, clearly perturbed that I had not understood his meaning from the beginning. "It cannot have escaped your notice."

"You must speak plainly, Igor," I said, becoming frustrated with him; I did not want to state what I thought he meant, unless I was mistaken- I needed him to make the suggestion first.

"This!" he hissed, grabbing my arm to halt my walk, and then dragged up his left sleeve.

"Put that away!" I mumbled angrily back; I didn't want him to bloody flash the thing around!

"So you have noticed, then?" Igor asked me eagerly, taking my desire for privacy to mean I was concerned about what it could mean.

"I don't see what there is to fuss about, Igor."
"Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening!" Karkaroff's voice was anxious now, perhaps because I did not share in his concern. "It's been getting clearer and clearer for months, I am becoming seriously concerned I can't deny it-"

"Then flee," I replied curtly. "Flee, I will make your excuses," I encouraged him; now that I knew his views, as spy, I had no need for him to remain. "I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts," I informed him. I expected my previous comrade to question why, a query I was prepared to answer, but he didn't, clearly too concerned for his own neck.

Instead, he stuttered a reply.

"No- no I shall not leave yet. Only- only if the Mark burns," he whispered, clearly agitated and anxious. "The attacks- the accusations I will receive..." he shuddered, clearly dreading what the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord would do to him if they ever caught him, and I could not blame him.

"Do what you feel you must," I stated firmly under my breath; I had all the information I sought, and wanted to cease this discussion as soon as possible for there were endless students loitering around us now.

We walked around a corner and I stopped talking, blind to who may be on the other side of the bushes. Remembering that I was a professor of the school and had every right to discover and appropriately punish any students who saw fit to hide from sight, I pulled out my wand and began to blast said bushes apart to catch those who may overhear us if Karkaroff was to continue speaking.

"Ten points from Hufflepuff, Fawcett!" I snarled, as a girl ran past us. "And ten points from Ravenclaw, too, Stebbins!" as a boy went rushing after her.

In front of me, I noticed two figures walking towards us and was eager to either remove them from our vicinity or otherwise walk swiftly away from them.

"And what are you two doing?" he asked, feeling a sense of dread as I saw Potter and Weasley nearby; had they heard anything; unlike Fawcett and Stebbins, they would attempt to understand what Igor and I had been discussing. To my surprise, Karkaroff jumped slightly upon seeing Potter before him, and anxiously played with his goatee. A part of my mind considered his behaviour suspicious whilst the other was determined how best to get away from the pair.

"We're walking," Weasley informed me shortly. "Not against the law, is it?"

I noted that the boy had spoken disrespectfully to me, and for the first time in living memory, I let his attitude slide.

"Keep walking, then!" I snarled, and then brushed past them both, walking towards the Entrance Hall as quick as I could. I could hear Karkaroff trailing behind me; he clearly wanted to keep up despite my multiple attempts to end our conversation.

"Severus!" Igor hissed after me, becoming agitated that I was gradually walking further and further away from him.

I spun around, my blood boiling; didn't he understand that it would be unwise to continue discussing this topic now that we were back inside the school?

"Igor," I began, as patiently as I could. "I don't know what it means," I lied swiftly, "but we cannot talk about it any longer," I reminded him, looking around the Entrance Hall for effect. "Whatever you decide to do, let me know; I can cover for you if need be, but as I told you before, I am staying at the school," I finished.

Finally sensing that I was serious and that our conversation was over, I saw Igor sniff with derision and tilt his head up slightly as if miffed that I was palming him off. Eventually, he gave me a nod, which was my opportunity to leave his presence as quick possible without being followed.

Hastily, I made my way towards the dungeons, for I had no desire to return to the Ball. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dumbledore walking across the Hall, with apparent aimlessness. I paused momentarily to see if the Headmaster had been searching for me, but was also aware of Igor's retreating back; I did not want him knowing that I had spoken with Albus so soon after our discussion. Thankfully, Karkaroff also seemed determined to return to his ship, and left the Entrance Hall without a backwards glance. Now that we were (relatively) free to communicate, I gradually made my way towards Albus, who was similarly gliding towards me as if we were two friends casually meeting for a chat.

Eventually we met just to the right of the oak front doors some three feet apart, side by side so as to debunk any theories from onlookers that we were having a private or personal discussion.

"Well?" murmured Dumbledore.

"Karkaroff's mark is becoming clearer too," I informed him swiftly, however quietly. "He is panicking, he fears retribution; you know how much help he gave the Ministry after the Dark Lord fell." I glanced sideways to ascertain how Dumbledore was processing this information. I maintained eye contact with his face as I continued.

"Karkaroff intends to flee if the Mark burns."

"Does he?" said Dumbledore softly, as we both eyed Delacour and Davies come in from the grounds giggling like young children. "And are you tempted to join him?" Dumbledore added casually as if my answer wouldn't have multiple, serious consequences. I decided to speak in a similar manner in case we were being overheard, while nevertheless maintaining my honesty.

"No," I replied seriously, as my eyes followed Delacour and Davies' retreating figures for they were the nearest students to us, though given the noise they were making, it was unlikely they could hear us. "I am not such a coward," I told Albus, my eyes averted to the two students as they ran up the staircase.

"No," Dumbledore readily agreed. "You are a braver man by far than Igor Karkaroff. You know, I sometimes think we Sort too soon..." Dumbledore trailed off as he so often does, and then walked away before I could reply. I stood there momentarily frozen. I attempted to remain neutral- attempted to care nothing for the words Albus had intoned so casually before leaving my presence. I felt uncomfortable and I wondered if my face had turned pink with embarrassment or whether I simply appeared how I felt: stricken.

Eventually, I mastered myself and continued walking towards the dungeons, Dumbledore's words echoing in my ears.

What did he mean by 'I sometimes think we Sort too soon...'

Well it's obvious, isn't it? A part of my mind snapped back at my wondering thoughts. Dumbledore believes that some qualities become more pronounced with age.

Does he really think the Sorting Hat would no longer place me in Slytherin? I wondered to myself, finding it unthinkable that I could be anything but a Slytherin.

Well clearly, I answered myself heatedly.

As I am the Head of Slytherin House and was sorted there as a child, I must possess the qualities prized by Slytherin! I insisted.

Obviously, but everyone possesses resourceful, cunning, and self-serving behaviours, it's simply a question of whether these qualities remain the most dominant in you now.
Of course they are, I hissed at myself, as I closed my office door behind me, and walked hastily to my desk to prepare for next week's lessons before I went to bed.

Karkaroff was in Slytherin too, I part of my brain reminded me. And as Dumbledore said, you are far braver than him.

There are individual differences within houses- Gryffindors are not brave in every situation, and Slytherins are not always able to be cunning- I have seen these failings in my students! I argued back.

Perhaps, but all Slytherins, at least in my experience, are self-serving.

I am being self-serving! I am doing this to relieve my guilt- to make up for what I did- to make things right... Suddenly my indignation and my certainty vanished. I sat in my office chair staring blankly at the parchment before me.

That's not what you tell yourself- that's not what you would tell Dumbledore. A true Slytherin wouldn't risk their life in an attempt to right a wrong that took place thirteen years ago.

No, I agreed, thinking of my students and of my younger self.

No, my mind echoed me. You would tell Dumbledore something different.

'I'm doing this for her; there are more important people than myself,' I imagined myself saying.

Perhaps that is what it means to be a Gryffindor. I cringed at the thought. The genuine belief that other people are worth saving and protecting in lieu of our own lives...

I shook my head; philosophising was clogging up my mind, and I had lost track of what I was trying to deduce from Albus' words. Deciding that I was too weary to create lesson plans, I walked towards my private quarters and sat down on the edge of my bed. I massaged my forehead and temples, and released a heavy sigh.

Dumbledore believes I am brave, I told myself, though even saying it silently made me feel stupid and inadequate.

If someone is not a coward, that does not mean they are brave, I stated, attempting to use logic; that was all I told him: 'that I was not such a coward'.

I am just doing what I know is right- I am simply keeping my promise! I yelled silently to Dumbledore, feeling frustrated with him.

"Indeed', Dumbledore's voice rung clearly in my mind, "and that is no easy feat- yes, I consider you to be very brave indeed," the Headmaster then smiled at me before disappearing from my mind. I knew I was imagining his presence and his words, but I had no doubt they were accurate.

Sighing again, I fell back on my bed and closed my eyes.

Dumbledore thinks I may now be Sorted in Gryffindor.

I placed my hands over my face and lay perfectly still.

And if that were true, I would be 23 years too late; if I were a Gryffindor from the start, my life would have been very different.

I ignored the tear that attempted to escape from under my palm as I fell into a restless sleep.

Again the entire school was sitting in a large stadium that was now surrounding the Lake. Due to Dumbledore eliciting the assistance of myself, McGonagall, and Flitwick the night before the second task, I had a day to prepare for what I was about to see. The second task required each champion to enter the Lake and retrieve the person they cared most about. At an ungodly hour on the morning of the second task, I woke up and met Dumbledore and the other staff in the Headmaster's office. Carefully and quietly, we each levitated a sleeping student in front of us, down multiple stair cases, and out the front doors towards the lake. I watched Weasley float in front of me as I wondered whether Potter would be so lucky as to complete this task. I briefly asked Dumbledore the previous night what exactly Potter had planned to do, but he claimed not to know. I scowled at the memory; Dumbledore very rarely had no idea which made me think Potter had done something not quite 'allowed' or otherwise had help from someone. Of course, neither option would surprise me.

We halted next to the lake, and then one at a time, we allowed Dumbledore to take control over our student as he lowered them into the lake, apparently forcing them deep into the water until they were securely held by a Merperson. For each individual, I watched carefully as Dumbledore's wand remained steady and smooth as he appeared to be tracking a path for each student from above the water, and then suddenly, his wand would jolt forward as if the student was snatched from him. Unperturbed, Albus leant towards the lake and placed his mouth in the water where he would utter a sentence before coming up to take a breath. He then placed his ear in the water as if waiting for a reply. There were several questions I wanted to ask him about this process. Of course, I knew he could speak Mermish, but did he truly trust them to look after 4 students? Did they understand the purpose of the task? That they were to be returned afterwards even if the relevant champion could not rescue their 'person'? Naturally, I hoped neither party were stupid enough to consider this task anything other than a reasonable game, but I had my doubts, having little understanding of Merpeople and their customs.

Once Dumbledore had completed this process with each student, we made our way back to the castle just as the sun was rising above the horizon. I hung behind the other three, who were talking animatedly about the second task as we entered the Great Hall and marched towards the staff table to eat breakfast. It was still extremely early with only a few students sharing the room with us. A glanced around and noticed that Potter was not there- I imagine it would be strange for him to wake up and discover that neither of his friends could be found. I wished I could have seen his reaction, and smirked at the thought of it.

I moved towards my seat at the staff table to discover that Moody was already sitting in his designated chair eating ravenously. He paused chewing in honour of my passing him. I still had not forgiven him for the insinuations he made a few nights previously in the presence of Filch and Potter (I still maintain that the boy was there under his invisibility cloak hiding, and getting away with being out of bounds, as usual). I still did not know who had entered my office just prior to a golden egg falling noisily down the stairs, but I was willing to bet almost anything that Potter had something to do with it- the presence of that magical map of Hogwarts at the scene of the crime was incriminating evidence. Of course, I reported to the Headmaster everything that happened the next day, including Moody's public statement that he searched my office and his insinuation that Albus was giving me a second chance. Dumbledore assured me he would speak to Moody again, but I ceased hoping this would change the Auror's behaviour.

I thankfully managed to slide past the man without him doing more than glaring in my direction, before returning to his food.

I ate my usual for breakfast, all the while keeping an eye out for Potter and the other champions. After one hour of examining the student body, I had eyed each one except for Potter himself. I smirked at the thought that perhaps the boy had no clue what to do and was holed up in the library somewhere sweating copiously with hundreds of books surrounding him. I did not want the boy to fail so miserably that his life would be in danger, nor did I want anything serious to happen to him, but the idea of his making a fool of himself in front of the school would certainly give me pleasure. However, I admit that as the population of the Hall exited towards the Lake that I was slightly concerned the boy had yet to make an appearance. My only hope was that he did not feel like eating breakfast, and was already waiting for us by the Lake. Upon my arrival, I looked over at the judges table and then at the tent under which the champions had been asked to stand. Potter wasn't there. No longer had my observation gone unnoticed, for it was clear that the judges were talking about Potter's absence, as were many of the students. Dumbledore alone seemed unconcerned, which infuriated me; clearly he knew something we didn't, and as always saw it unfit to inform me what he knew about the boy I was meant to be protecting.

Once again my distress was endured without consideration from the only person who could ever dream that I would care where Potter was. It hit the hour for the task to begin and Potter was still nowhere to be found. I did not appreciate seeing Madam Maxime nor Igor Karkaroff's hopeful looks that perhaps the boy wouldn't turn up; clearly neither of them had considered the possibility that something more sinister may have happened to him. I stood up, about to approach Dumbledore to ask if I should search for Potter, when I saw in the distance someone running full pelt towards the Lake. I grumbled quietly and sat back down, pretending I had stood to adjust my robes to a more comfortable position. I glared at Potter as he came to a halt clearly out of breath, his robes muddy. I glanced at Albus and saw that he was smiling serenely while everyone else looked relieved or otherwise discomposed that he was to compete in the second task after all.

Within seconds, Bagman was announcing the start of the second task and then blew the whistle. I watched Potter closely to see what he would do; did he have a plan? If he did, what was it, and if he didn't, how was he about to inform the judges of this? It seemed he had something in his pocket and ate it, and judging by his face, it was chewy and difficult to digest. After swallowing it, he waited some more, apparently not too worried. By this time, all of the champions had entered the Lake except for Potter. I heard some of the Slytherins laughing at him, for it did look like nothing was happening, but then the boy started to writhe, his arms flailing as if panicking and struggling for breath. He placed his hands to his neck; perhaps he could feel a part of his body transforming. Almost instinctively it would seem, the boy swam into the lake along the surface, moving faster than he ought to have. It was difficult to see from up in the stands what was happening to him, but it appeared to work, and within a few seconds he had submerged himself underwater and he didn't rise to the surface. Relatively little took place for the better part of 55 minutes as we waited for the champions to return. In the meantime I considered how Potter managed to successfully swim underwater. I took a couple of minutes before I mentally chided myself for being so slow- Gillyweed! I then averted my attention to the last time I saw my stores... was Gillyweed in there when I last examined my stock? The Boomslang skin had gone missing the night I found my office door open, but the Gillyweed was still there... perhaps- perhaps the boy stole it from me this morning when I was eating in the Great Hall. I imagine he needed some assistance to steal it for I doubted the boy would be capable of breaking through my security charms. Regardless whether it was by his hand or someone else's, the Gillyweed, should I find it missing, was mine and Potter stole it from me. He would pay for that later.

Commotion close to the lake stirred me from my reverie. I squinted as I peered at the water's surface. Those who were waiting on the sidelines should the champions require any assistance, moved into action and quickly assisted one of the champions out of the lake. It didn't take long for those observing to know that it was Fleur Delacour; her high pitched, panicked tones as she was carried out of the water to the bank were audible to us all. Apparently she worried for her sister who she could no longer rescue. Of course, myself and the staff knew that no harm would come to any of the hostages, though some of the students also seemed to be equally concerned. Eventually Poppy Pomfrey managed to calm the girl down and soon she was standing with Madame Maxime on the bank wrapped tightly in a blanket staring intently at the water as if her sister rising safely out of it was a matter of life and death.

Conversation had broken out around me again as I continued to contemplate what could possibly be taking place in the depths of the lake. Occasionally Professors Sprout and McGonagall would speak to me about a particular student, my thoughts on the Tournament so far, and various other topics of small talk. However, my attention seemed to resolutely return to the other Champions and what was taking them so long as the 1 hour was almost up.

A bell rang after exactly 60 minutes, clearly for the benefit of the audience rather than the champions who would not have heard it from the depths of the lake. Now the nature of the chat around me changed as people started to become seriously concerned; were the champions okay? Had something happened down there that prevented all of them returning to the surface safely? I could not help but silently join in their concern; although I had not expected Potter to be the first to return, I had expected Diggory or Krum to have returned by now.

As I thought this, two heads surfaced to a tremendous round of applause from those lower in the stands- a level of excitement that quickly escalated to the rest of the school. I assumed Diggory had finally made it back, and I saw, judging by the long black hair of the head next to him, that I was right. So, Diggory had managed to rescue his hostage by the effective use of the Bubble-head charm roughly one minute outside of the time limit. I saw Dumbledore beaming from his seat and wondered whether he too was concerned about the Hogwarts champion who had yet to show himself. If I were the Headmaster, I would approach Diggory and ask if he had seen the other two champions, but apparently no one did such a thing- not that they had the opportunity for Poppy quickly grabbed Diggory and Chang to provide them with the necessary remedies for being drenched in freezing cold water.

As they were being hauled away into a small tent that took them beyond our sight, everyone's gaze returned back to the lake in time to see Krum surface with Granger. His head was not recognisable in its current state, but having seen him complete a partial transfiguration charm before entering the water, I recognised the blue-grey shark head that momentarily surfaced the lake. Due to being unable to breathe, or so I imagine, Krum's first priority was to re-transfigure his head, and then he assisted Granger out of the water. I noticed Granger look around slightly confused as the audience was cheering or otherwise politely applauding Krum's return. It didn't take long for her to remember where she was and why; she hastily looked around her, clearly searching for Potter and Weasley, but to no avail. Frowning slightly, she returned her attentions to Krum and the two of them followed Madame Pomfrey into the tent, which Diggory and Chang had just vacated, for a warm blanket and a Pepper-up potion.

The next ten minutes passed incredibly slowly; my mind and chest were filled with an uncomfortable anticipation. As far as I knew, no one had asked Krum or Diggory if they had seen Potter. Surely, Dumbledore was worried about him; it was already 25 minutes outside of the designated time limit. My fear was gradually turning into anger and frustration; someone should ensure he hasn't drowned at least.

And then, an impressive level of cheering could be heard below me and I knew Potter had finally returned. I peered down at them to find not two heads, but three. His return created more commotion than the other three combined; the designated assistants hardly need be there. Instead, Miss Delacour broke free of her Headmistress' reassuring hand and, forsaking her towel, ran into the water to enquire after her sister's wellbeing and shower multiple praises on Potter and Weasley who she believed 'saved' Gabrielle. In the mean time, Dumbledore and Bagman were lifting Potter out of the water, and Percy Weasley had wrenched his brother from the water and dragged him to the bank much to Ron Weasley's protests. Granger remained on the bank next to Krum, but I could see her jumping up and down in excitement and relief... she wasn't the only one.

Now that everyone had returned and Dumbledore was convinced that Potter was as healthy as could be expected, he left Bagman and Potter's side and walked calmly to the lake and knelt on the bank closest to the water. To the enthusiasm of many, a Merperson, who I believe to be the Merchieftaintess had raised her head above the water and the two of them were having a conversation in Mermish. I could not understand what they were saying despite the high pitch of the conversation for I hadn't learnt the language, but it seemed the Dumbledore was delighted about something, though was equally contemplative as he bowed to the Merchief and returned to the other judges. Whilst the judges discussed whatever the Merchief had informed Albus, Poppy had managed to drag Weasley, Potter, and the young Miss Delacour away from their admirers to have her remedy of Pepper-up potion and a warm towel. When they returned, Ludo Bagman was beaming as he announced it was time to provide a score to each Champion.

Delacour was generously awarded 25 points out of 50 for her attempt, Diggory, 47 points, Krum was given 40, and then, there was Potter.

"Mr Harry Potter used Gillyweed to great effect," Bagman stated.

Because he is a thief, I thought bitterly.

"He returned last and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Mer-chieftaintess informs us that Mr Potter was the first to reach the hostages-"

What!?

"And that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own."

Clearly Miss Delacour wasn't the only one foolish enough to believe Dumbledore would allow the hostages to die.

"Most of the judges feel that this shows moral fibre and merits full marks. However, Mr Potter's score is forty-five points." This result was met by a great volume of cheering, including from McGonagall who was sitting beside me.

Karkaroff's face looked sour and extremely displeased. I had no trouble guessing who would have been against giving Potter such a high score and I could relate. I spent what seemed like endless minutes concerned for his well-being when he was perfectly fine, treading water, waiting for the other champions to rescue their hostage. And they see it fit to reward his stupid behaviour with additional points?

Whatever possessed him to wait around in such a competition was beyond me. Doesn't that boy understand the consequences of his 'moral fibre'- doesn't he think about those of us up here who are concerned about his safety- his competing in the Tournament? But of course not, he was the precious Harry Potter... as if he didn't have enough fame already, he was now a glorified hero, or at least in Delacour's eyes.

I sighed as those around me began to rise from their seats; at least the boy is safe. As I waited for those in front of me to descend the stairs, I stared down at Potter, and said: But if you ever make me wait for you again, you shall never hear the end of it.

A week after the 2nd task I had had quite enough hearing about Potter's performance in my classroom and when walking through the halls. I had been determined to find the opportunity to speak to Potter in private to let him know that I was on to him; I knew he stole ingredients from me the night his golden egg so noisily fell down the stairs, and again the morning of the 2nd task.

Finally, a week later, I had the opportunity to legitimately move Potter to the desk near my own so I could accuse him as planned.

"I give you fair warning, Potter," I hissed at him as I pretended to examine his work so far, "pint-sized celebrity of not- if I catch you breaking into my office one more time-"

"I haven't been anywhere near your office!" he cut back angrily.

The audacity of the boy.

"Don't lie to me," I whispered sharply at him as I stared piercingly into his eyes. "Boomslang skin. Gillyweed. Both came from my private stores, and I know who stole them."

Potter stared blankly back it me, unblinkingly and with apparent innocence. He may be able to act like this, even under my scrutiny, but I knew that whether by his direct act or not, it was because he exists that those items were stolen from me.

Eventually he said: "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You were out of bed on the night my office was broken into!" I hissed. "I know it, Potter! Now Mad-Eye Moody might have joined your fan club, but I will not tolerate your behaviour! One more night-time stroll into my office, Potter, and you will pay!" And I meant it; I was tired of being over-ruled and made a fool of by such an insolent, ungrateful boy.

"Right," Potter replied coolly. "I'll bear that in mind if I ever get the urge to go in there."

I had had quite enough- being in my office or not, he was now mocking my accusation, and I needed to shut the boy up- under no circumstance was any student permitted to talk back to me the way he was.

I plunged my hand into my robes, and I knew the instant I moved that Potter was afraid, perhaps fearing I was about to attack him. Yet, what I was searching for would be far worse than any hex I could legally cast. Within seconds I held a small, clear bottle in my hands- Veritaserum.

"Do you know what this is, Potter?" I threatened him, enjoying it all the while.

"No," he replied and I knew he had no clue.

"It is Veritaserum- a Truth Potion so powerful that three drops would have you spilling your innermost secrets for this whole class to hear," I whispered enticingly wishing I could but slip some into his pumpkin juice, and I told him as much. As I expected, the boy had nothing to say to me after that, and balance had finally been restored.

Minutes passed, pleasurably silent ones as everyone was at work making the potion I had instructed them to concoct, until a knock interrupted us all.

"Enter," I beckoned, not looking up from the paper I was marking while my class worked around me.

I heard brief and quiet whispers as the person who knocked walked through my dungeon. I looked up and felt my heart sinking; Karkaroff was here in the middle of my classroom, more than prepared to talk about a topic that should not be discussed in the vicinity of students. This man knew no bounds, and a glance at his face, told me he was now more cowardly than he was at the Yule Ball. My being 'braver' than Karkaroff was not difficult, even Neville Longbottom held more courage than my previous comrade at this point in time.

When Karkaroff and his twisted beard reached the front of my class room, he said loud enough for the whole room to hear: "We need to talk," though his lips remained pointlessly immovable. He needn't have bothered for I could see Potter's ears metaphorically perk up given his proximity to us.

"I'll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff," I muttered, trying to sound indifferent to his appearance.

"I want to talk now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me." His statement was partly true. I was not actively avoiding him, but rather, I was not lingering as I used to because I no longer need to spy on him for Albus; we knew he would leave if the Mark burned and that was all the information we required. I also was not seeking out conversations with him now that they were bland and consisted of only one topic.

Nevertheless, this was my classroom, and after Potter's insolence, I was not about to have Karkaroff, past friend or not, override me.

"After the lesson," I snapped at him, louder than I planned to.

At my words, instead of appearing angered by my rejection, he appeared more worried as if his speaking to me was a matter of life and death, which I suppose it very well could have been. But all I felt was anger that he was so pathetic to have to consult with me whenever the Dark Mark changed ever so slightly. I should have predicted this, for I noticed it become clearer two days ago. I suppressed a sigh.

Much to my displeasure Karkaroff stayed in my room and hovered behind my turned back until the end of the lesson. I had never been so excited for the bell to ring, for only then could I finally begin to rid myself of this pathetic excuse for a Death Eater.

"What's so urgent?" I demanded of him.

"This," he replied as he pulled up his left sleeve and showed me his Dark Mark.

I did not respond; I could not believe I was correct. Did this man think of anything else?

"Well?" he pressed me when I did not reply. "Do you see? It's never been this clear, never since-"

Realising the man was still showing his Dark Mark for everyone to see, I snarled at him to put it away before scanning the room to see if anyone remained behind.

"But you must have noticed!" Karkaroff insisted as if my dismissal meant I didn't agree with him.

"We can talk later, Karkaroff!"I spat at him to make him shut up before I addressed none other than Potter. "What are you doing?" I asked the boy.

"Clearing up my armadillo bile, Professor," he replied innocently as he straightened up.

Stricken at the presence of a student- of Harry Potter no less- being privy to his concerns, Karkaroff left without another word. For the first time in living memory, I was glad that Potter was putting his nose where it didn't belong.

"He is acting as if he were a lost puppy dog!" I insisted as I paced around the room. "This is the third time he has walked into one of my classes, Dumbledore. I cannot endure his insubordination for much longer! He acts as if the world is ending," I told Albus feeling exasperated.

"Well, in fairness Severus, for Karkaroff, the world may very well end for him."

I growled. "He would deserve as much! He turned in fellow Death Eaters, what did he expect would happen?" I spat, no longer caring for the man or what happened to him.

"I know, Severus," Dumbledore replied wearily from his chair.

I stopped moving and turned to my right to examine him.

"Are you feeling alright, Dumbledore?" I asked. "You look tired."

Dumbledore gave me a small smile. "I am tired, Severus."

"Why? I mean, are you concerned for Potter? Is there something you know that I don't?" I demanded.

"No, no Severus. Well, I am concerned for Harry, but I know nothing more than you do, I'm afraid. The individual responsible for placing his name in the Goblet of Fire has yet to act and now they have one final opportunity... I am not used to being so ignorant," he admitted, clearly frustrated as he rested his forehead on his hands.

I moved towards his desk and sat down opposite him.

"Is there anything we can do?" I wondered out loud, perhaps there was something or someone we missed.

"Not that I can think of," Dumbledore sighed as he looked up. "Forgive me, Severus; it has been a long day."

"Would you like me to leave?" I asked politely, wondering if this was his way of dismissing me graciously.

"Soon, but before you do, you should know that Harry took a trip into my Pensieve, metaphorically of course."

"With your permission?" I asked, already suspecting the answer.

"No, but alas he has learnt valuable information that I dare say would be more useful to him than a hindrance at this stage of the game."
"What do you mean? Dumbledore, you stored multiple memories in there, memories involving me both current and in the past. Does he know about Lily?" I demanded; how could Dumbledore have been so careless?

"No, no he doesn't, Severus, I assure you of that. He knows that Karkaroff is or perhaps was, a Death Eater. He witnessed Karkaroff's trial as well as that of Crouch Jr."

"Right," I replied shortly.

"As Karkaroff gave you up in his trial as a Death Eater, this seemed to trigger a memory Harry had which took place this time last year. And he asked me, once again, why I trust you. Of course, I did not tell him, Severus, and again I told him that I trust you implicitly, which I do. However, he then mentioned that Peter Pettigrew was threatening to divulge the task you were given by Voldemort in order to be inducted as a Death Eater. Harry remembers that you silenced Peter before he could say another word. He asked me if I knew what your task was. I said no..."

"But what, Dumbledore?"

"But nothing, Severus," he sighed again. "I just wish there was someone else who shared in my trust of you. While it is an honour to know and keep your secret, considering the relationship you have with Harry, it is no wonder he asks me so often, especially this year."

"It was a condition upon which I helped you, Dumbledore, don't you ever forget that!"

"And if I decided to tell Harry, and I'm not saying I would ever do such a thing, but if I did, would you stop spying for me? Would you turn against me?"

I felt my blood boiling; what was he implying? I looked up into his face, and there I saw a kind smile. I knew he was merely jesting, curious perhaps how much his maintaining my secret meant in the great scheme of things.

"Dumbledore-" I began.

"I am joking, Severus."

I glared at him then, knowing full well that his question was not a joke.

"No you weren't," I told him. "And of course I would continue working for you in honour of Lily's life. But let me remind you," I added forcefully, for this, more than anything else, was vital for Albus to remember, "that my role as spy would be in significant jeopardy if Potter or anyone knew why I swapped sides. Their knowing would render my position as spy useless. Potter cannot be trusted with such a secret for multiple reasons, but in particular because he will surely tell his friends, and they will inform who knows who! I do not think so highly of myself, but I assure you that if Potter ever found out I loved his mother, it would be front page news within a day!"

Dumbledore smiled and uttered a chuckle.

"It isn't funny, Dumbledore!"

"No," he said laughing now, undoubtedly due to the horror on my face, "but your reaction to finding yourself on the front page of the Daily Prophet would be quite a scene, I imagine."

"Yes it would, and you, as the only person who knows my secret would be the first to suffer my wrath! I would never forgive you for such treachery, Dumbledore!"

"I daresay you wouldn't, Severus."

"Is there anything else you wish to tell me?" I asked, standing up, no longer desiring to be in the company of the Headmaster.

"No, that is all, Severus. In between now and the third task, which I was astonished to discover today is only 2 months away, keep me updated with anything you should discover."

"I will," I assured him with as much civility I could muster before walking out of the Headmaster's office and closing the door behind me.

I was sitting next to Dumbledore in the stands that surrounded the Third Task; a huge, hedged maze with numerous obstacles within. The Headmaster had intentionally requested that I not be one of the staff monitoring the outer area, even though I insisted that I should be. Later, Dumbledore confided in me that he wanted me to be near him in case something should go amiss. I allowed myself to contemplate if this was the truth; did he really want my assistance, or was this his way of monitoring me? I mentioned this to Dumbledore, who turned me down immediately, insisting point blank that he needed me close by- the person who knew more about the whole 'Potter being entered into the Tournament fiasco' than any other professor. I eventually accepted his reasoning and sat next to him throughout the entire process, whilst the other judges sat to Dumbledore's right. There was little to keep us occupied while the Champions made their way through the maze. A couple of times we saw red jets of light fly up into the air which caused everyone to shift forward in their seats and whisper. As it turned out, those in trouble were Krum and Delacour, of which Moody informed us of when he could. That meant Hogwarts were guaranteed to be victorious. I felt uneasy, wondering if this was part of the plan- it seemed almost too easy that the other competitors were knocked out so soon. We waited for what seemed like a millennia for someone to touch the cup, for someone to exit the maze victorious. But no such moment came. After 2 hours, Dumbledore grew worried which naturally made me worry.

Suddenly I grabbed at my left forearm, though tried to make minimal sound as possible for there were students sitting in front of me.

"Dumbledore," I whispered to him sharply.

"Yes, Severus?" he replied leaning his ear towards my mouth.

"My Dark Mark just burned black- Dumbledore, the Dark Lord- he has summoned his Death Eaters."

"Damn," Dumbledore replied, clearly distressed, though a quick glance at his face told me that he did not appear worried, no doubt as a guise to those who may be watching us.

"Should I go?" I asked him as if I were discussing dinner plans.

"No, stay here with me, I need you. You can return to him later, and explain that you needed to stay at the school until I ordered you to spy on him."

I felt uneasy about this plan, but nodded my head; I would have to work it out.

"Look," Dumbledore hissed into my ear as he pointed subtly to our right. There Karkaroff was clearly descending the stands and making a run for it. Honestly, I was surprised he hadn't left sooner.

Coward, I thought to myself.

"Pathetic," I replied.

"We need to get down there," Dumbledore told me as he stood up and began to move towards the end of our row.

"What?" I whispered. "Why? There is no point in chasing him!"

The Headmaster did not answer me until our feet had touched the lawn below. He then leant towards me again and muttered: "I fear the worst, Severus- we must assume the worst in these dire circumstances. The burning of your Mark means that Tom has returned to physical form, and you have my word that Harry will be in his presence as we speak."

I felt slightly light headed as I am sure all the colour receded from my face.

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yes, whoever placed his name in the Goblet of Fire wanted this to happen- Voldemort must have used him some how to come back."

"Do you, do you think he's dead?"

"Who, Harry? No, or not yet, anyway."

"We don't know who is here, Dumbledore. Which Death Eater was responsible for this?"
"I am not sure, Severus, but until I know where they are, you must remain relatively neutral in all of this. Only do as I ask and nothing more, do you understand?"

I did not have the opportunity to reply before a figure landed some 15 feet in front of us, and next to them was the Triwizard cup. As we approached, Albus faster than myself, we saw that it was not one, but two people. I could barely bring myself to walk closer; if Potter was dead... But soon, I saw someone move and eagerly traced their dark outline until I found a face, and I found one, Diggory, clearly dead by means of the Avada Kedavra.

I told myself over and over that they could not have returned unless one of them were alive. Before I could search any further, Dumbledore had reached them and had grasped the other body.

"Harry? Harry!" Dumbledore was shouting, clearly concerned, as I was, that the boy was dead. The Headmaster turned Potter over and gradually the boy opened his eyes.

Only then did I realise that I wasn't breathing and my chest was tight. I allowed myself to breathe freely again. The boy lived... once again.

Instantly, Potter let go of the Triwizard cup, which was clutched in his hands in favour of grabbing Albus' wrist, and for good reason.

Although it was a mere whisper, I read his lips: "He's back. He's back. Voldemort."

Unexpectedly, I began to feel sick. Although my Dark Mark burning could only mean that very thing, hearing the fact stated, and knowing that Potter was there and likely saw the Dark Lord in his proper form for the first time in his living memory, caused a fear in me I had never felt before.

Fudge, who was being poorly discrete made it clear that Cedric Diggory was dead, which caused a mayhem around us. He seemed to be forcing Potter to let go of Diggory's dead body, but for some reason, he seemed reluctant, though I could not make out why. Eventually Dumbledore resorted to forcing Potter's fingers away from Diggory's skin, and then lifted Potter up onto his feet. I watched in horror as the boy swayed dangerously; I was not sure but it appeared the boy was in pain.

I watched, feeling useless, my heart still racing as I looked around trying to find any sign that a fellow Death Eater were in our midst. But I saw nothing, which was tremendously frustrating.

"He'll need to go to the hospital wing!" Fudge stated loudly. "He's ill, he's injured-" which would have been clear to anyone who glanced at the boy. I began to walk forward about to ask Dumbledore if I should take him to Poppy, but before I could, Moody appeared by the boy's side and told Dumbledore that he would take him.

But Dumbledore said no, and begun to provide a reason, but was then interrupted. I listened closely wondering if within the Headmaster's words was some kind of hidden message. All Dumbledore could say was "Harry, stay here-" before being ambushed by the Diggory's and a significant level of hysteria as fellow students begun to learn of their Champion's fate.

I watched as Moody left and walked towards the castle supporting Potter. I knew this was not what Dumbledore wanted, but I did not understand why.

"Dumbledore," I said urgently, approaching him even though he had not ordered me to. Although I was supposed to remain neutral, the Headmaster must know that Moody had disobeyed his request.

Unfortunately, Dumbledore was being bombarded with so many questions, and his statements that the Dark Lord had returned was causing a heightened hysteria that was nearly impossible to endure after everything I had just witnessed. But I persisted, and repeatedly called for Dumbledore a mere 6 feet from where he was standing.

After five, perhaps ten minutes, I had made my way through the crowd and found myself standing next to the Headmaster.

Although he knew I was there, for I saw him glance towards me, he was speaking so rapidly, and attempting to mitigate multiple conversations at once that I was reluctant to interrupt him, and questioned whether I even could. But I pushed these concerns aside; I had to try because at that moment neither of us knew where Potter was, and given the Dark Lord had risen again, this was far from ideal.

"Dumbledore," I said clearly and imperiously from his right. Immediately, he looked at me as if he could tell the urgency and authority in my tone. "Professor Moody has taken Potter to the castle."

Albus stood up to his fullest height and scanned the surrounding area, stopping at the very spot he told the boy to stand. Despite the talk around him, and the various others who were calling his name, I could tell that Potter's whereabouts was more important to him. I saw a steely sheen appear in his eyes before he looked back at me.

"Find Minerva and return to me; we are going to find them."

I nodded and then left the group. Due to her height it was relatively easy to find Professor McGonagall, who, as I expected was not far from the crowd I was a part of.

"Professor McGongall," I addressed her when I was a mere foot from her.

"Can you believe this, Severus?" she replied, clearly upset by Diggory's passing.

"It is terribly tragic," I agreed with her quickly. "But there is a more pressing issue that needs to be addressed; Dumbledore has requested our assistance, we must hurry."

"Lead the way, Severus."

I quickly located the Headmaster and walked quickly towards him, and then, ignoring the comments from various others, Dumbledore insisted that he needed to return to the school for the moment, leaving Fudge in charge. Then the three of us walked towards the castle, Albus leading the way. Although his back was facing me, I could feel his anger radiating from him, and I knew better than to speak to him unless spoken to; I had the feeling he was concentrating and using his magnificent mind to put the pieces together before we arrived to Moody's office.

Eventually, McGonagall broke the silence.

"Albus, where are we going in such a rush?"

Not slowing down by any means, Dumbledore replied: "We are pursuing who I believe placed Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire."
"Truly?" Minerva replied, sounding surprised. "However did you manage to work it out amongst the horror we just witnessed?"

"Because I told Professor Moody that Harry was to stay with me, and the man took him out of my sight."
"He disobeyed you?"
"Yes, and the Alastor I knew would not dream to disobey a direct order from me," Dumbledore stated, his disappointment and fury evident in his voice.

"All this time? You believe Professor Moody was an imposter?"

"Yes, that is my guess, though I have no real evidence as of yet."

We were now mere feet away from Moody's office, and without pretence or hesitation, Dumbledore walked right up to the door and yelled: "Stupefy!" causing the door to blast open.

We entered the room to find Potter sitting uncomfortably on a stool, and Moody lying on the office floor who had been hit by Dumbledore's spell. I saw Potter glance at us, his eyes resting on Dumbledore's face, and his eyes widened. Without ceremony, Dumbledore said naught and instead walked into the room, placed his foot under Moody's body and kicked whoever it was onto his back so that we could see his face.

I walked in after the Headmaster, and then noticing movement to my left, turned to see my face staring into the room- I was glaring at myself, which was something I was not expecting. Nevertheless, I immediately recognised the instrument as a Foe-Glass with Dumbledore's and McGonagall's faces also watching me. If Potter had not been traumatised in that moment, I am sure he would have realised that my appearance there meant I was on Albus' side, but I suppose I could not have expected that of him- of anyone in such a situation as this.

Minerva attempted to take Potter to the hospital wing and it appeared that she also could not stand much more of what was turning out to be a horrific night.

"No," Dumbledore told her sharply, and no matter how insistent Minerva was, I could tell there would be no way of convincing the Headmaster otherwise; he clearly wanted Potter within his sight at all times and I could understand why.

"He will stay, Minerva, because he needs to understand. Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery. He needs to know who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered tonight, and why."

Potter spoke briefly after this, and it became clear to us that just prior to us entering the room, Moody had revealed that he had entered Potter in the Tournament which was undoubtedly instrumental to the return of the Dark Lord.

Dumbledore then turned to Minerva and me.

"Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess, and then go down to the kitchens and bring up the house-elf called Winky."

I immediately left the office towards the dungeons. I knew exactly where I kept the Veritaserum I threatened Potter with mere weeks ago and placed it securely in the inside pocket of my robes before leaving my office and walking to the kitchens.

As I took the short walk to my destination, I wondered why Albus wanted to speak with Winky. Clearly he thought she was somehow connected to- and then it hit me-but surely he could be nothing but dead? He was left in Azkaban to die... but perhaps Crouch managed to free his son somehow, and if this were true, then his house-elf would certainly know of it. It would also explain why she was holding Potter's wand the night of the Quidditch World Cup- Crouch Jr had framed her.

I entered the kitchens where I was greeted jovially by the House-Elves who clearly did not know what had happened in the grounds above them.
"Where is Winky?" I asked not caring for their hospitality, for in this moment, they were wasting my time.

"Over there, Professor Snape," Dobby, the Malfoy's sacked elf informed me, looking sorrowfully at one of the large ovens. I glanced over and saw a small figure lying in the foetal position in front of the iron door. I walked quickly over to her, and addressed her loudly. She woke with a start, her large orb eyes staring at me.

"Get up; you need to come with me," I told her imperiously, though with a slight tone of sympathy in my voice.

"Wh- what? Why? Has- has my master asked for me?" She asked me hopefully as she held her head. Clearly she was confused.

"No- well not exactly," I clarified. "Come."

Winky rose from the floor and followed me as she was asked, though she was unsteady on her feet and clearly tired. The house-elves watched us leave without a sound, and I felt they were all wondering whether they would ever see her again.

Winky did not speak to me as we ascended the stairs towards Moody's office. If I could not hear her quiet footsteps behind me as she obediently followed, I would not have known she was there. As we arrived onto the third floor, Minerva called to me; she was at the base of the staircase and walked hastily to catch up to us. I paused to wait for her. We didn't say anything, but she indicated that I lead the way, which I did quickly knowing that much needed answers were mere feet away.

The instant we walked into the room, we saw none other than Barty Crouch Jr lying unconscious on the ground. I exclaimed my astonishment as did McGonagall; it was one thing to expect he was culprit to seeing him right before our eyes after believing him to be dead for the past 13 years. Amongst Winky's exclamations that Dumbledore had killed her master's son, I handed Dumbledore the Veritaserum which he force fed to the man from whom we all wanted answers. I watched Albus do this, and caught a glimpse of Potter who looked pale and shaky, yet still standing. I turned back to the Death Eater and watched as the Headmaster revived him. Instantly, he began his questioning and we all listened with rapt attention. The more we discovered, the worse I felt; clearly my previous master had thought carefully about his plans and he managed to achieve his goal, right under Dumbledore's nose. Of course, I knew no one would be more disappointed and frustrated than Albus himself.

Once the Headmaster had completed his interrogation, which was done with a forced calm, he asked Minerva to stay with a now bound Barty Crouch Jr, and then requested that I ask Madam Pomfrey to come to the office to tend to the real Alastor Moody and to then bring Cornelius Fudge to Crouch Jr in the likely event the man would want to question him himself. Dumbledore then told me that if he had not returned, to come up to his office and knock on his door. I inclined my head and then set off towards the hospital wing.

Curious about why and with whom Dumbledore would speaking to in his office, I walked quickly in pursuit of Madam Pomfrey, who was in her office, as expected. She promised to see to Alastor Moody's well-being immediately which left me free to find Fudge. He was not difficult to locate given his purple bowler hat stood out among the crowd as I returned to the Quidditch pitch. I gained his attention by speaking into his ear, and informed him that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for the events of tonight.

"Excellent, excellent," he replied, as he looked around the grounds and flicked his wand.

"Minister, did you wish to question him before Dumbledore sends him to Azkaban?"

"Yes, yes of course, but not without protection," he replied distractedly; clearly he was searching for some kind of protection.

I suppressed a sigh.

"Minister, the man was been bound by Dumbledore himself and he is still under the influence of Veritaserum; there will be no need to bring anyone with you. In fact, Professor McGonagall is currently with the man alone and I am not concerned for her safety and neither is Dumbledore."

"All the same, I want a Dementor-"

"Minister, I insist that that would be inappropriate for many reasons," I replied immediately; Dumbledore would be furious if I allowed the man to bring a Dementor into the school. However, Fudge was feigning deafness and did not acknowledge my words. Instead he began to walk towards the castle, and in the distance I could see a single Dementor who was gliding towards the Entrance Hall as if it had been waiting for a summons. Without consulting with me, Fudge led the way towards the school and I was following him closely.

"Fudge, I insist you leave this creature outside of the castle!" I said more heatedly now. "Dumbledore would be furious if you allow one into his school- you recall, I imagine, how he felt about this matter last year," I reminded him.

"I am the Minister for Magic, Professor Snape, and if I am concerned for my safety, I will allow any creature I deem necessary into the school, regardless of who may object!"

If I had any other Patronus, I would have produced it right there and then in order to vanquish the Dementor from our presence, and face Fudge's wrath later, for it would not compare to Albus'. But unfortunately, I did not have that privilege and so was forced to follow the Minister hopelessly towards the castle. Thankfully all of the students were still outside near the Quidditch pitch, but I nevertheless kept an ear and eye out to make sure no one unwillingly entered our path. As I had hoped, the corridors were deserted and not a sound was heard until we entered Moody's office on the third floor and McGonagall saw our third companion.

"Minister!" She exclaimed. "Get that creature out of here this instant! If Dumbledore knew it was here, he would-"

"With a Death Eater in my presence, Minerva, I do not care what Dumbledore would think of my decision! I have the right to protect myself!"

"As you can see," she replied, her mouth thin and cross, "the Death Eater you speak of is bound and wandless! What damage could he do to you- to any of us?!" she argued, clearly becoming as frustrated as I was feeling.

Before Fudge could reply, the Dementor moved towards the bound man and began to 'kiss' him.

"Oh my Lord!" McGonagall exclaimed, and then made to reach out to the Dementor as if to stop it, but then recoiled back, walking towards the door.

Dumbledore is going to be furious.

Minerva and I watched in horror as Crouch Jr's soul was pulled out of him by the dark creatures floating three feet in front of us. Within seconds, the man was as good as dead.

"Expecto Patronum," Minerva whispered feebly, clearly shaken by what she had witnessed. "Be gone!" she shouted furiously at the dark creature, her silvery cat chasing it towards the window in Moody's office.

Reducto, I said silently, pointing my wand at the window. As I had hoped, Minerva's Patronus continued to chase the creature into the night and away from the school grounds. McGonagall and I walked quickly over to the window and saw the silvery light in the distance; her cat was still chasing the Dementor with its owner's silent encouragement. When we were satisfied the Dementor was beyond the school's boundary, Minerva turned on her heel and glared at Fudge.

"This is exactly what I was concerned about!" Minerva screamed; all pretence and respect for Fudge had evaporated out the window.

"It is no loss, Minerva! The man has murdered many people-"

"When Dumbledore hears about this-"

"Speaking of which," I interjected, "I am to meet him in his office- I will inform him of what has happened. I will let you know what he wants to do next."

"Well that is obvious isn't it?" Fudge replied scathingly, apparently angry that we felt Crouch Jr was worth hearing, or in fact, worth anything at all.

I left hurriedly knowing Dumbledore would want to know what happened as soon as possible, and also because I knew Minerva would give Fudge the reprimand he deserved.

Idiot, I thought to myself as I stalked towards Dumbledore's office, hoping he'd still be there.

I ascended the staircase and knocked.

There was a slight hesitation before I heard Dumbledore's command, "Enter!"

I walked in wondering what I would find inside. First, I saw Albus sitting behind his desk, his chin resting on his hands, Potter sitting the armchair across from him, and a large black dog sitting by the boy's side. I closed the door quickly, and upon hearing the latch, Black transformed into his human form.

"Severus," Albus welcomed me, though his tone carried the grievances of the evening. "We have just finished, or rather, Harry has just completed recounting every detail of tonight's events; we were just about to leave." I tried not to convey my disappointment that Potter had finished for I was keen to hear what had happened so I would have some idea of what to expect and how I would be 'welcomed' back to the ranks. But I reminded myself that Dumbledore could tell me later and instead focused on the more immediate and pressing issue.

"Dumbledore," I began, hoping to convey my urgency, for despite his intention to leave, he was still sitting down. "Fudge has-" But then paused, not quite sure if I wanted to be the one to tell the Headmaster after all.

"What has he done?" Dumbledore asked as his eyebrows rose. "Did he interrogate Crouch Jr?"

"Well- no, that's-"

"What is it, Snape?" Black asked of me, a tone that was between civility and frustration.

Deciding it was best to just 'spit it out', I stated plainly: "I apologise, Dumbledore, but he saw fit to bring a Dementor into the castle."

I saw a shadow pass over Dumbledore's face and knew that he was repressing an unspeakable amount of anger and disappointment.

"He was kissed?" Black filled in the silence, his eyes wide with fear; undoubtedly recalling that that could have been his fate.

"Yes," I whispered, still uncertain how Dumbledore was going to react, for he had yet to do so.

"I hope that once you discovered these events, the creature was eradicated from my school?" the Headmaster asked.

"Yes," I replied immediately, "Minerva used her Patronus to chase it off the grounds."

Albus sighed and ran his long fingered hand down his face, closing his eyes momentarily.

"Very well, I am sorry to have put you through so much tonight, Harry," Dumbledore spoke calmly, turning to Potter now. "You have shown a tremendous amount of bravery tonight- more than I could have expected from the very best of wizards. I am incredibly proud of you. And now, I think you deserve a much needed rest. I will take you to the hospital wing. Sirius, you may accompany Harry in your Animagus form. Of course, your true identity must remain a secret," Dumbledore added looking between the three of us. We all nodded our understanding.

"Severus, if you could please request that Fudge meet me outside the hospital wing, and do everything in your power to ensure he does not bother anyone while he waits," he requested of me, the edge in his voice so unlike his usual tone.

Dumbledore led the way out of his office, Black now in his dog form. Before exiting the room, he turned around and stared between myself and Black.

"With Tom now alive and among us again, do we need to have a conversation about how important it is that we all cooperate and treat one another with respect?"

I briefly glanced at Black, whose yellow eyes were looking up at me. I thought back to the last time we had a proper conversation, and decided that I could be civil to him, at least for now.

"No, Dumbledore," I answered, and Black gave a single bark, I presume in agreement.

"Excellent," Albus replied and gave us a small smile. Then turning on his heel, he left his office with us following close behind.

I knew Fudge could be thick at times, but his refusal to believe the order of events as recounted by Albus on behalf of Potter was simply astounding. I wanted to shout at him; how were we to defeat the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time if the Ministry remained in foolish denial?

Hastily, though with significant thought, I decided to reveal my Dark Mark to the Minister. It felt foolish at the time, but what choice did he leave us with? No longer could I stand behind Albus in the background and not support his statements. I strode to the fore and pulled up my left sleeve. I forced my forearm into Fudge's face. I admit feeling satisfied when he recoiled from me.

"There," I said sharply, harshly, desiring to make an impact. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was, an hour or so ago, when it burnt black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burnt into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing each other, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been getting clearer all year. Karkaroff's, too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

I suppressed a satisfied smirk when Fudge took a step away from me, shaking his head. I was surprised he did not know I had been a Death Eater, for Crouch had certainly been aware of it. For a few seconds I was able to appreciate the power I had over him, however minimal, for I knew information that he did not and that scared him.

Unfortunately not even my shocking revelation convinced the man to believe two words I said and he left, leaving Potter's winnings behind. I turned around and saw Potter, Miss Granger and Mr Weasley staring at me. Of course, they knew I had been a Death Eater, though I suppose it would still be a shock to see the Mark burned into my arm and hear my confession to a Ministry official who clearly had no idea that I was once a follower of the Dark Lord.

After designating various missions to Molly, Bill, and Sirius (much to Potter's disappointment), Dumbledore turned to me and I knew what he was about to say and instantly my heart as racing again as adrenaline coursed through my veins.

"Severus, you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready... if you are prepared..." He trailed off, perhaps realising that we had never properly discussed exactly what my cover would be or what I would say to my previous master.

"I am," I responded despite my fear; this moment is what I have been preparing for ever since the Dark Lord's first downfall.

"Then, good luck," Dumbledore responded, his face portraying a fear and concern he knew he could not risk feeling; there were several other practical tasks he needed to attend to- the Order of the Phoenix must rise again.

I made to exit the Hospital Wing, when a quiet, however audible voice spoke.

"Be careful."

I spun around, convinced I was hearing things. But to my surprise Potter was sitting up in bed, looking at me.

I walked back towards him, unable to speak. What did he know? Why would he care what happened to me?

Dumbledore, Weasley and Granger seemed to be thinking along similar lines, though Dumbledore's grin was not lost on me.

"Excuse me?" I eventually managed to utter.

"He believes you have turned against him."

I stared at Potter wondering whether to believe him. Did he really just guess where I was going?

"How could you possibly know that, Potter?" I demanded, my voice shaking with repressed fear.

"You- you are returning to Voldemort, right? To spy on him?"

I cringed at the sound of my former master's name, but didn't reprimand him in favour of glancing at Dumbledore to see if he was as surprised as I was.

Dumbledore simply smiled at me encouragingly and shrugged his shoulders subtly.

I decided it best not to answer him, and instead returned my gaze to the boy, waiting for him to continue.

"Well- well if you are, Voldemort spoke to his Death Eaters while I was there. He identified all of the missing people from his circle of followers, and mentioned a coward, who- who I guess was Karkaroff... and one who he believes has left him forever, who- who I guess is you?"

I felt myself turning pale, but tried to remain indifferent to Potter's information.

"He said that person will be killed," Potter added and to my surprise, the boy didn't seem to like that possible fate of mine.

I stood there, still unsure what to say. My mind was running amok, thoughts intruding on my logic from every direction. I would need to be certain of my defence- rehearse everything I wanted to say- be solid in everything I did. Potter's revelation could have saved my life, or at the very least my role as spy.

I nodded my head once in understanding, then turned around to catch Albus' eye.

"Good luck, Severus," Dumbledore whispered, though I could tell he wanted to say much more.

Without another glance, I walked quickly towards the exit of the hospital wing and made my way towards the grounds where I would be able to Apparate to the Dark Lord's side once again...

I glanced around the Great Hall from my seat at the staff table, hardly believing that I was sitting here alive and unscathed. My defence, the only defence I could put forth to the Dark Lord was that I was still spying on Albus for him and in order to maintain my position as spy and ensure my cover, I needed to wait for Dumbledore to order me to spy on Him. I was grateful that Wormtail was the only individual in our presence, and seemed too timid to inform his master that not long ago I informed Black and Lupin that he was a Death Eater which almost led to his death. The Dark Lord stood over me, clearly contemplating whether to believe my story. I held my breath in anticipation for his judgement; if he deemed me a liar, I knew I would be tortured mercilessly before being killed and I did not desire such an outcome. As I sat there in silence waiting with bated breath, I considered what I would say- what else I could say to convince him of my loyalty.

Eventually the Dark Lord demanded I look up at him- Legilimency was his plan and, prepared for this tactic, my mind was already blank. My skill in this area had been further developed over the years, especially in the months immediately after the Dark Lord's downfall when Dumbledore would frequently attempt to assault my mind to ensure my skills remained at a supreme level. Only when he was certain I had mastered Occlumency to the level he himself could do, did he stop testing me. It was times like these that I was grateful for Albus' caution and our weekly meetings.

After careful contemplation which involved speaking out loud to himself and to Wormtail, the Dark Lord concluded that I was telling the truth, but that I would have to prove my loyalty to him once again by updating me on the goings on with Dumbledore, Hogwarts, and the Order of the Phoenix. I told him important information- information that Albus agreed he could know for the Headmaster was already once step in front of him. When the Dark Lord mentioned Crouch Jr's presence at Hogwarts, it was with almost equal trepidation that I informed him that his faithful servant was useless and soulless. His scream of rage rang in my ears, though I refrained from covering them for fear of showing weakness. I waited for him to calm down, and then informed him of the good news; the Minster for Magic and thus a majority of the Ministry did not believe he had returned. This would allow him to continue working undercover without causing suspicion to anyone outside the Order. Thankfully, this seemed to improve his mood and he appeared less likely to torture us.

After our hour and a half minute meeting, he dismissed me with a list of information he wanted me to gather from Dumbledore between now and my next meeting with him which was scheduled for two weeks time. I made a mental note of the precise location and time for I shuddered to think what he would do if I were late or did not make an appearance. I returned to the school the same night I had left, but had yet to speak properly with the Headmaster given the various responsibilities he had in lieu of Cedric Diggory's death.

I glanced around the Great Hall and noticed Potter's gaze waver over me. Clearly he noticed my presence, though seemed reluctant to watch me any longer than would be considered normal.

I'm still alive, Potter, I answered his unspoken question, though I had to admit that the boy's warning was certainly valuable.

I ate my meal mindlessly, my attention focused solely on my own mind as I contemplated the year to come. It was the eve of the school holidays- the students would be going home, and I would be living in my own house away from the school and away from Dumbledore. Of course, I needed to speak with the Headmaster privately before we went our separate ways, but something told me that my life was about to evolve into a whole new level of difficult. But I did not let this discourage me; I am a spy and regardless of my struggles, this was something I needed to succeed in... the alternative was that Edward and his sister were wrong and my life was not worth living after all...

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Author's note: Once again, congratulations on getting through this monster of a chapter! There were a couple of other scenes I wanted to include in this segment, but the chapter was so long already that I decided to leave them out, for now anyway. This is the final chapter of 'The Struggles of a Spy' because the remaining 3 years of Potter's schooling (or would-be schooling) will be told from both Severus and Edward's POVs in my cross over stories ('Leave Me' and 'A Life Worth Living' respectively). I know many of my readers do not appreciate the Twilight series or its characters, but I assure you I have made huge efforts to preserve what I admire and love about the characters, and removed the rest! I sincerely hope all readers of this story would be intrigued to continue the tale by pursuing 'Leave Me'. I can promise you now, it will be a hell of a ride and I can't wait to share my ideas with you all!

Thank you for your patience between updates. It has been a ridiculously long time, but I really hope to be able to update more frequently from now on.

Thank you for your readership- I hope you will take the time to post a comment or review for me; you know how much I love to hear from you guys :)