Time Heals All Wounds

Chapter Eleven: The Mark



The only light in the damp, cold stone room, came from two wands. One in the back of the room, near the large stone doors, created by a short man. He was pudgy, with a pointed face like that of a rat. He had wisps of thin, mousy brown hair, which was not enough to cover the large forehead and twitching nose. One hand was holding the wand, and the other one, was gripping the door handle tightly.



The second light, was situated in the center of the room. He was a tall man. Easily 6 foot 7. He was hooded, but what you could see of the mans face, no, you couldn’t even call him a man. Not anymore. His face was gaunt, and deathly white, whiter than a scull. His nose was flat, like that of the large snake on his lap, with slits for nostrils. His eyes, large and wide, were a livid scarlet. The hand holding the wand, was like a large pale spiders. His fingers unnaturally long. He moved his hand, so that the wand light passed over the faces of his followers. Flickering into existence, the masks that covered their faces, which were lowered in respect. The light cast shadows on the stone floor at his feet.



“Wormtail!” he spoke, in a commanding tone. “Bring me our new recruits.”



“Y-Yes my lord…” Wormtail stuttered as he hurriedly opened the doors. His wand light pouring into the small stone room. “Keep your heads down, do not speak unless you are spoken to, and the pain will be minimal.” he stepped to the side to let them step out of the room. “you will obey the dark lord, and whatever you are asked to do, you shall.” he led them to the front of the other death eaters. He then kneeled down on one knee, and kissed the hem of Voldemort’s robe. “My lord, the recruits…” he bowed once more before, at Voldemort’s bidding before moving aside.



Severus was nervous. No, more like scared shitless. What should he say? How should he react? More importantly, what would happen to his Hermione, should he fail?



“My faithful followers, today is a glorious day! We are accepting fresh blood into our ranks! They will be tested, yes, but those who survive, those will be the cornerstone in our struggle against the light. We have here among us, one of Dumbledore’s chosen students, Slytherin of course.” here he paused to allow the slight laughter of his followers. When it had died down, he continued. “He will be tested in various ways, his potions making skills, of course, thank you Lucius for that little tidbit of information.”



“Of course my lord.” Lucius bowed respectfully. “Anything to serve you…”



“Yes, yes.” Voldemort said. “Moving on to the…testing…” he scanned the crowd of potential death eaters. His eyes passed over Severus and he silently let out a breath of relief. Spotting a slouching candidate, he gestured forward. Stumbling, the clumsy man stepped forward.



“Name.” Voldemort demanded.



“Wilkes, my lord.” he answered.



“The testing shall commence. Crucio!” Voldemort laughed, cruelly, and shrilly, as he watched Wilkes writhe on the floor. After several minutes, he dropped the curse. Wilkes had screamed like a woman when in pain. He then addressed him. “Come forward.” Wilkes crawled to the hem of Voldemort’s robes and kissed them. “Yes…my lord.”



“Stand.” he commanded.



“Yes my lord.” he struggled to his feet, and stood awkwardly not looking him in the face.



“Hold out your left arm.” Voldemort said casually.



Wilkes did as he was told, and at the dark lord’s bidding, raised his sleeve.



Voldemort grinned in cruel satisfaction, as he pressed his wand to the middle of his forearm.



Wilkes began to scream. Voldemort’s laughter seemed to be infectious, for his older death eaters, began to laugh in earnest.



Severus felt sick. This was what he had to endure? How had his older self done what he was expected to do now?



‘Hermione was right, this deatheater shit blows!’ Severus thought.



His eyes snapped to the front of the room when the light from the dark lords wand fell on himself.



“Come forward.”



Severus took a deep breath, and fought to makes his voice low and obedient. “Yes my lord.”



Severus stood with his back straight, and his eyes cast downward, as he copied what Wormtail had done, with his one knee on the damp floor.



“Name.”



“Severus Snape My lord.”



“Rise.”



Severus stood and kept his eyes averted.



“Lucius.” Voldemort commanded.



“Yes my lord.”



“You have the potion that Severus had made correct?” the dark lord questioned.



“Yes my lord.”



“Bring it to me.”



Lucius stepped away from the ranks, and handed the potion to Voldemort.



Voldemort turned to Severus and said. “Drink.”



Severus did, thankful that he hadn’t poisoned the potion. He fell to the ground and laughed uncontrollably.



Voldemort lifted the effects. He spoke calmly, with the note of a threat in his tone. “Lets test you out, and see what your made of Boy!” he sneered.



“Crucio!!” the beam of light hit Severus directly in the chest.



Severus stumbled with the impact and he felt as if his entire body was on fire, burning him from the inside out. He gritted his teeth to prove to himself that he was strong. That he wasn’t weak.



Unsatisfied with the response he was receiving, Voldemort motioned for another of his death eaters to join him. Lucius Malfoy was smirking ear to ear, as he evilly snarled, “Crucio!”



Severus felt as if his nerve endings were splitting open and pouring his blood, hot, and boiling inside of him. He fell to his knees, his teeth clenched, and trying to reassure himself that this wasn’t so bad. That it wasn’t as bad as his fathers beatings. This wasn’t as bad as being locked inside of a closet and left alone for days. This was nothing compared to his Aunt’s abusive nature. She, who would hold his arm over a tongue of wizards fire. He still had the burns on his forearm as proof. No, this was nothing compared to his life before Hermione. Severus let out a breath of relief when they lifted the curse.



Severus kept his eyes averted, and was unprepared when he felt the Crucio curse hit him out of nowhere. The only sound he made was a slight hiss, as he inhaled sharply. It left him as soon as it hit though, and Voldemort made a sound of approval.



“Stand, Severus Snape.” he commanded sharply.



Severus did as he was told.



“Arm.”



Severus held it out and raised his sleeve for the dark lord.



Voldemort pressed his wand tip to Severus’s unscarred forearm. With a murmured incantation, Severus watched in pain, never saying a word, as he felt and saw the dark mark burn, then blacken against his pale skin.





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A/N: thank you for reading, and as always, please review!



~juerasana