Chapter Text
Albania, Summer 1996
Snape regretted some of his life choices. But as a half-blood, at the height of a blood war, he would have said that he hedged his bets quite successfully. But that was before Dumbledore was killed by “Quirrell.” He scowled—he didn’t believe it for a second but it didn’t matter, not really. His “Light” plan, as he referred to it, was over. Only Dumbledore would have been willing to attest to his “loyalty” to the Light—only Dumbledore was powerful enough to convince enough people of that loyalty. And it had worked, for nearly eleven years.
And with Dumbledore in his corner, he had still kept connections with former Death Eaters, had still kept his “loyalty” to the Dark Lord. They had a plan for the prophecy—Potter would destroy the Dark Lord once and for all—and he had a backup plan, just in case the Dark Lord had another trick up his sleeve.
Or seven. He shuddered.
Getting bodily ejected from the castle nearly five years ago had been startlingly but not even more startlingly than seeing Pettigrew there as well. The dumb rat. He should have known something was peculiar about that rat when it survived Percy’s first year—that boy definitely did not care for it at all. Clearly, Pettigrew always knew how to survive.
And then, in between the two of them… Ravenclaw’s Diadem…and what it actually was. He shuddered again.
It had been a long five years. And now, he was all in. No backup plans. Few escape routes. Not the ideal scenario. But hopefully…hopefully, this potion would work, hopefully, with enough magical sacrifices, the Dark Lord will rise again.