Severus Snape's quarters, Hogwarts
Snape had given up on trying to kill himself. He didn't know exactly what in the Oaths he had sworn was stopping him, but something was. He had pointed the wand at his chest and tried, but the words simply didn't come. Even thinking them wasn't working. And it wasn't just the Killing Curse, but Sectumsempra, Diffindo, Reducto. None of them worked. The Blood Boiling curse failed as well. He simply couldn't cast them. He had tried to drink poison, but couldn't force it into his throat. He had tried to slit his wrists, but couldn't apply the force needed to do so. All in all, he was cursed to live.
To live, and serve the Dark Lord.
And worse than merely serving him, he knew of his plans for Harry Potter and had no choice but to help bring them to fruition.
When Severus Snape was still a boy, he read a series of muggle books about a detective named Sherlock Holmes. He had been so amazed at how the fictional man was able to notice and understand everything. He had thought that no one in real life could have such a skill.
He had been wrong.
The Dark Lord didn't simply amass such power and followers as he had due to his prodigious magical ability. No, the man was a charismatic manipulator of the highest order, and intelligent enough to make a genius jealous.
He could read people in a way that reminded Severus of his favourite detective reading a crime scene.
Severus could never forget his first private conversation with the Dark Lord. He had been fifteen. At one of Lucius' soirees, the Dark Lord had started speaking privately to him. He had been so honoured. And then he heard what the Dark Lord had to say, and knew that he would swear himself to this man.
"I killed my father when I was your age" He had said, looking straight through Severus. "He was a worthless muggle, and I disposed of him"
Severus had been shocked, to say the least. Not only had the Dark Lord just admitted to being a half-blood, but he felt a kindred spirit within him. Here was someone who understood. Who understood what it was to be saddled with a worthless lump of a man who had given you life. To have to claw and fight for every bit of power and strength you wished.
Within six months of that conversation, Severus had been Marked.
And the Dark Lord's plan was brilliant, of course.
Draco wanted nothing more than to prove his worth and to out-do his father. The Dark Lord would most definitely be able to phrase joining him as achieving precisely that. And if Draco balked at the initiation, well, Severus would be in charge of preventing that.
And then there was Harry. A lonely abused magically talented child with a strong desire to just fit in. If the Dark Lord played it right, and he usually did, he would be able to convince him quite easily. Especially if he, Severus Snape, the boy's Head of House, who the boy looked up to, would be pushing him to join. And he would be. He had no choice.
And it was agony.
It would have been a pleasure if Harry was only James' son. A pleasure to take him and mold him into a perfect little Death Eater. A final, glorious fuck you to James.
But Harry was Lily's son, and Severus couldn't bear to see those eyes peering through a mask.
Severus was aware that his way of viewing Harry was not exactly healthy. If he saw him as James' son, he wanted nothing more than to crush him. If he saw him as Lily's son, he wanted nothing more than to protect him, keep him safe and away from evil. If he saw him as simply Harry, he viewed him almost as he did Draco. A child, who he felt the closest thing to love for as he could feel since Lily was murdered. A child who he wished to guide and enable to be great.
A child who he would be forced to turn into a killer.
Hence the suicide attempts.
The Dark Lord believed that Harry would be one of those who react strongly to the use of Dark Magic. In such matters, Severus had long learned to trust the Dark Lord. If he was correct, as soon as Severus began training him for his initiation he would belong to the Dark Lord as truly as Bellatrix did. As truly as Severus did, now.
For the first time in many, many years, Severus Snape set out to get as drunk as he could.
Malfoy Manor
Bartemius Crouch Snr had been very naughty indeed. The irony of it, one of his greatest enemies smuggling a convicted Death Eater out of Azkaban was almost enough to make Voldemort laugh. Almost, but not quite. Had Crouch perhaps kept his son in better conditions, it would have been enough to make him laugh. As it was, his lips merely turned up slightly when he thought of it.
The problem was, that helpful as it would be to have Barty back now, he was not yet willing for his return to be public. And Bartemius, as a senior ministry official, could not simply disappear without it becoming major news. He knew that Dumbledore already suspected his existence, and was loath to give the old man any more clues to put together. Bartemius had a powerful force of will, the Imperius would not last on him for too long. Memory charms were not wholly reliable. And so, he would have to leave one of his most devoted and loyal followers caged for a while longer. It would be at least another year, perhaps even two before he would be in a position to publicly reveal himself. Sometime before that, Barty would have to be rescued.
Hot anger flashed through Voldemort at the thought of the conditions his best Death Eaters were in. The Lestranges, in Azkaban. Barty, imperiused and held under an invisibility cloak in his father's detestable home.
No-one, no-one other than him had the right to do anything of the sort to his followers. They were his, and his alone.
He hated having to control his rage. When the house-elf had told him about "poor master Barty" and how he was kept, he had wanted to flay the disgusting creature. And yet, doing so would have alerted the paranoid Bartemius. So he had to rely on a Memory Charm, even though doing so irked him.
Soon, he promised himself. Soon, his followers would be his again, and only his. As before, so it would be.
And, even more importantly, his accidental Horcrux would be his, as well. Everything he had heard from Lucius and Severus had confirmed his original plans with regards to dealing with Potter. The boy would crumble like butter in his hands. He would join, that is for sure.
He would have to ensure the boy's protection. His Horcrux could not be endangered.
' Perhaps, in time, I should nudge Potter into making his own?'
But no, that could be far too dangerous. What if Potter was not able to create a Horcrux? It would mean the destruction of one of his own. A severing of one of his links to life. No, that would require far, far more research.
Perhaps a visit to Egypt? After all, it had been the Egyptians who created the original Horcruxes. Herpo the Foul merely brought the concept to Europe.
Yes, Egypt would be the ideal place for research. In fact, Voldemort had a faint recollection of reading of a pharaoh who had used a cat for a Horcrux. That would be the place to learn about the consequences of living Horcruxes.
Yes, he would go to Egypt. It would, in fact, be ideal to not be here when the boys came for holidays.
And perhaps, in Egypt, he could indulge his pleasures.