The research had made a breakthrough—
But it had also hit a wall.
Snape looked increasingly exhausted.
Developing a cure for lycanthropy was far from easy. The concepts of beastiality and humanity were too subjective. No matter how much he adjusted the formula, the effects remained the same as their earliest findings.
And that wasn't the only thing giving him a headache.
Voldemort was not an easy man to deal with. He was sharp.
Especially now that he actually had a functioning brain—though Harry often joked that Voldemort's intellect was only slightly better than Crookshanks'.
Truth be told—
Voldemort was as troublesome as Crookshanks.
Cunning, insidious, and unpredictable.
He constantly tested those around him—
Sometimes in ways so subtle that even Snape failed to notice until after the fact, breaking into a cold sweat upon realization.
Fortunately, he had always been critical of both Potter and Dumbledore, never showing a hint of weakness.
But it meant he had to stay on constant high alert—
Not just around Voldemort, but around Bellatrix and the rest as well.
Then came the final day of the Christmas holiday.
The very last day of the year.
It was also Tom Riddle's birthday.
Malfoy Manor had been completely redecorated, adorned with lanterns and festive decorations.
Snape arrived and found himself momentarily stunned by the transformed courtyard—the newly planted shrubs, the Death Eaters bustling about, setting up the finishing touches.
Was this…
A birthday celebration?
Snape vividly remembered Voldemort's birthday.
But the idea was absurd.
Voldemort despised the name Tom Riddle. He wouldn't even acknowledge his birth name—why would he ever acknowledge the date associated with it?
At least, ever since Snape had joined the Death Eaters, Voldemort had never celebrated a birthday.
Of course—
It was possible that the Dark Lord, fresh out of Hogwarts three years prior, still had such trivial indulgences.
Snape pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The Dark Lord was clad in a brand-new robe.
His severed right hand had been replaced—
With a new arm, gleaming like liquid mercury.
"My dear Severus, you've finally arrived."
Voldemort approached, spreading his arms, embracing Snape.
"Tonight, you are one of the main characters."
Main character?
That was a key phrase.
Snape kept his expression neutral, pulling back from the embrace and bowing.
"My Lord, your grace is the honor of all your servants."
"But…"
He lifted his head slightly, feigning confusion.
"What have I done to deserve the privilege of being a main character before you?"
Voldemort seemed pleased with his attitude.
"No, my dear Severus—all of my dear friends may become the main characters of the evening. You are no exception."
"As for why…"
"You shall soon see."
"Go freshen up. Tonight is a night worth remembering."
Voldemort's voice carried an underlying meaning as his gaze lingered on Snape's perpetually greasy hair.
Snape kept his face blank as he walked toward the washroom.
Once, he had believed Potter was the most insufferable person alive.
Now, the Dark Lord had tied him for that position.
What is it with these people?
Why are they all obsessed with making me wash my hair?
Is washing hair supposed to be fun? Long hair is a nightmare to clean.
By the time Snape returned—now looking slightly more formal, his hair at least free of grease—the decorations in the grand hall had been fully completed.
Voldemort beckoned him over.
"My dear Severus, come—tonight, you shall stand by my side."
Snape nodded and stepped forward.
And then—
The doors to the hall burst open.
A man stormed in, his expression cold and resolute, brandishing his wand.
"Dark Lord! And you filthy Death Eaters—your reign ends tonight! Surrender immediately!"
Pius Thicknesse.
His goat-like beard glistened under the candlelight, radiating an air of unwavering righteousness.
Snape's instincts kicked in.
He immediately drew his wand and pointed it at the intruder, eyes sharp and ruthless.
Damn it.
What was happening?
Had the Ministry discovered the Death Eaters' location?
And they acted without informing the Order?
Without Dumbledore—without Potter—there was no way the Ministry's ragtag bunch of halfwits could handle the Death Eaters.
Forget about the Dark Lord.
Forget about himself.
Even Bellatrix and Barty Jr. alone could wipe out the entire Ministry.
"Severus, no need to be so tense."
Just as Snape hesitated between using Sectumsempra or Cruciatus to deal with the intruder—
Voldemort waved his hand dismissively, his tone lighthearted.
"Lower your wand."
Snape hesitated—
But obeyed, lowering his wand.
At that moment—
The righteous aura surrounding Thicknesse vanished.
He hunched his shoulders, stepped forward, and addressed Voldemort in a tone dripping with sycophantic devotion:
"My Lord, how was my performance?"
"You certainly looked the part of a Ministry official."
Voldemort clapped his hands, praising him.
Snape's eyes narrowed in shock.
Voldemort caught the reaction. With a casual wave, he clarified—
"Severus, you seem surprised."
Snape nodded. "Dumbledore trusts him."
"I never suspected he was—"
"Was he always one of ours?"
Voldemort shook his head. "Always?"
"No, no—he is a new friend. He was our enemy, but my dear godson—who is quite talented—convinced him to see the light."
Thicknesse puffed out his chest, half exasperated, half proud.
"It is our Lord's gift that made me Minister," he admitted.
"This is a position I have always desired but never obtained. Now, my everything belongs to our Lord."
Snape understood now.
Thicknesse had not joined willingly.
He had boarded a sinking ship and now had no way off.
Voldemort smiled, taking Snape's and Thicknesse's hands, leading them to the center of the hall.
"Now, our two main characters are here."
He released them, taking a few steps forward before turning back.
"Severus Snape."
He spoke Snape's name.
Snape knelt before him.
"I recognize your loyalty, and I acknowledge your service."
Voldemort placed a hand on his head.
"Few remained devoted after my fall. My dear godson was one—you were another."
"And for that, you lost an arm."
"So—I shall restore it."
"A Potions Master cannot have only one hand."
With a wave of his wand, liquid silver surged forth—
In the center of the hall, it coalesced into a massive Dark Mark.
"You lost your honor—so I shall grant you an even greater one."
As the words fell—
The serpent slithered forth from the skull—
And bit into the stump of Snape's left arm.
Snape's face paled, cold sweat dripping down his forehead.
Slowly—
The mercury formed bone, then veins, then muscle, then skin.
Minutes passed—
And Snape had a new arm, identical to Voldemort's.
Bellatrix looked at him with undisguised envy.
"Severus."
Voldemort withdrew his hand from Snape's head.
"You are exceptional. I expect you to become one of my greatest assets—alongside my dear godson."
"This is my honor, my purpose," Snape responded.
Voldemort's lips curled into a smile. His gaze shifted—
"Pius Thicknesse."
The Minister knelt.
Voldemort placed a hand on his head.
"Let us give Hogwarts a surprise."
Voldemort's fingers rested lightly on Thicknesse's head.
"I understand," he said softly, "that you may harbor some grievances. My godson's method of convincing you to become a Death Eater may not have been the most… honorable."
"N-No, my great—" Thicknesse stammered, alarmed.
Voldemort silenced him with a mere tap of his fingertip.
"Let me finish," he said smoothly.
"But I will make you realize—being a Death Eater is an honor. Becoming Minister of Magic is merely the beginning of your rewards."
"Britain alone is not enough to satisfy me."
"But…"
"In Britain, I still have two greatest obstacles—Potter and Dumbledore."
"Pius," Voldemort continued, his tone almost gentle, "I require your assistance."
He paused deliberately.
"Your position is… unique. Meanwhile, Potter and Dumbledore control the public perception of the British wizarding world."
"Me—the great Lord Voldemort—and all of you, my loyal Death Eaters—we are slandered by them."
"They brand us as evil, even though we fight for the true future of wizardkind."
Voldemort let out a soft sigh.
"So, much as I loathe it, Pius… I cannot grant you the Dark Mark."
Thicknesse did not react.
He showed no emotion.
But inside, he quietly exhaled in relief.
"However, Pius—your duty is heavier than most."
Voldemort's voice grew lighter, filled with amusement.
"Let us prepare a little surprise for Hogwarts."
"The Ministry is supposed to stand against the Death Eaters, yes?"
"Then let it fully assume that role."
"In order to protect the beloved Savior of the wizarding world, the Ministry must take control over some aspects of Hogwarts."
"And as for Black…"
Voldemort smirked.
"The Black family has always been my allies. My most devoted followers."
"Pius, I trust you understand what I mean?"
"Of course," Thicknesse nodded quickly, bowing even lower. "My Lord, I will officially issue a warrant for that traitorous Death Eater, Sirius Black!"
Voldemort nodded approvingly.
"Good. Very good."
Snape held his breath.
Now he understood.
Why Voldemort was so confident in him.
Why the Dark Lord spoke of these matters so openly in front of him.
He had calculated everything.
Dumbledore's weakness was the Ministry.
Order. Authority.
The old man wouldn't care whether Snape was a traitor or not—because in the end, it wouldn't matter.
This wasn't Death Eaters making these moves—
It was the Ministry.
And as for Thicknesse—Snape was the only one who knew he was truly a Death Eater.
But without the Dark Mark—what proof was there?
Damn it.
He suddenly felt frustrated.
Once again, everything would fall onto Potter's shoulders.
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Powerstones?
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