Within the Wings of a Storm

Your Life Knows No Answer

Here comes the Dark Lord...
And a bittersweet meeting for Sirius...

Chapter title from "Rhiannon" by Fleetwood Mac
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Knee cracked on cold marble. Searing pain shooting through. Wind knocked out. Humiliation at landing prone on the floor. It was a rather standard arrival to an audience with the Dark Lord. Voldemort made a point to re-establish dominance within the first second of an interaction.

"Ah, Severus. It took awhile this evening, didn't it? Did I wake you?"

"Yes, my Lord," Severus admitted humbly, slowly lifting himself off the floor. "Thank you for your forgiveness." It was the better answer. Saying no meant he would have to invent another excuse for his tardiness.

"Of course, Severus. I need my servant well-rested. Now, let us skip the pleasantries and attend to the matter at hand." Voldemort took a seat in a rather sad looking armchair, the centerpiece of a tattered living room showing years of neglect. Severus was surprised that the Dark Lord was still utilizing his father's abandoned manor house as a home base, having expected him to find a more extravagant abode in the months following his return. A quick survey around the room revealed newspaper clippings, maps, lists, photographs— haphazardly scattered about— evidence of a mad, obsessive fact-finding mission as he prepared for battle. The Dark Lord was obviously too distracted to worry about upgrading his surroundings.

Severus remained standing at attention, back to the wall. He noted Nagini slithering in from the hallway, greeting her master by winding silkily around his ankles.

"Tell me, Severus, why friends of Albus Dumbledore are suddenly popping up unannounced across the pond? And in my old haunts, at that?"

Snape bristled inwardly but betrayed nothing in expression or movement. "I had not heard of such a thing, my lord, regrettably. When you say 'across the pond,' exactly where have they been sighted? I may be able to piece together a possible motivation upon my return..."

A spurt of fiery ash flickered onto his arm after escaping causally from Voldemort's wand. It singed a hole into his black suit before extinguishing, causing a sharp sting. Snape was grateful it wasn't more than that.

"You may be able to piece together? And you're asking me for more information? Are you or are you not my informant, Severus? This is a significant development, and for you to have no knowledge of it is a greatly disappointing, not to mention highly suspicious. Perhaps I should see what you are hiding from me?"

The invasion was swift but Severus was ready. A memory crafted of a meeting at Hogs Head — Dumbledore, himself, and Remus Lupin. Dumbledore asking Lupin to recruit werewolves, having heard that Voldemort was doing the same. Suggesting he try other lands since Voldemort would have already exhausted the communities nearby. Snape making snide dog jokes as usual where the Marauders were concerned. Believable, but boring.

"Traveling to New Orleans to recruit werewolves? How gullible, do you think I am, Severus?" His voice was nearly a shriek.

"I am only thinking to previous conversations that may be pertinent, my Lord. I assure you I will inquire as to any possible travels this week."

"Why don't you also inquire about who this might be?" Voldemort added, tossing a photograph at him impatiently. The paper landed face down atop Snape's boot, and a sickness formed in his stomach as he bent to retrieve it. He didn't even have to turn it over to know it was her. It was a photo of her laying on a dirty tile floor, wearing the same clothes she had worn the night Lupin and Tonks had brought her to Grimmauld Place, only in the photo she also wore a strange necklace that Severus had not seen her with before. He raised a curious gaze to the Dark Lord to see the very necklace hanging from his long, bony finger.