On the forest path, even after some time had passed, Snape still could not calm down.
He walked back toward Hogwarts with unsteady steps. The sweat on his back had already gone cold, clinging to his skin and making him shiver.
The Potions Master could not stop replaying it all in his mind.
That person. That tone. That pressure. That overwhelming magic.
And that habit of opening with the Killing Curse.
Other than the fact that the boy did not stand there hissing and laughing like a maniac every few seconds, everything else had felt terrifyingly similar to the Voldemort Snape remembered.
"How could the Dark Lord, returned from death, command a phoenix? Fawkes belongs to Dumbledore. He is a phoenix, a sacred creature that only draws near to those with a pure heart."
"It's impossible that he was truly the Dark Lord's spy. Unless…"
Snape's steps slowed. A thought flashed across his mind.
Bloodline.
Voldemort had always been obsessed with the power bloodlines could bring.
If he had resurrected himself inside a member of the Dumbledore family, if he had become a Dark Lord wearing Dumbledore blood, then he would have gained the strength of that bloodline.
And more than that, it would force Dumbledore, the next time he faced him, to fight with hesitation and pain. Dumbledore would never strike down his own kin.
Snape sucked in a sharp breath, his heart lurching.
So this was the Dark Lord's scheme.
He had turned Dumbledore's blood into a shield.
And the reason he wanted Lily's remains… that had to be for research. He wanted to study the ancient force that had once defeated him.
In that instant, every scrap of information snapped together in Snape's head.
That boy was Voldemort. Without a doubt.
"It seems that after coming back, his mind works even better than before."
That was not good news.
Snape's expression shifted several times.
Clearly, Iain had badly underestimated what being "the Chosen One" had done to Snape's instincts. At this point, Snape had absolutely no doubt about Iain's story.
Especially not after he rolled up his left sleeve, exposing the pale skin beneath, and saw the Dark Mark there growing clearer and darker than it had in years.
Only when the Dark Lord returned could the Mark become this distinct.
Inside the skull's eye sockets, the serpent's tongue writhed as though alive. It was more active than it had ever been before. That meant the Dark Lord had to be nearby. Very nearby.
"Resurrection…"
A struggle flashed through Snape's eyes.
Then, just as quickly, reason overrode it.
Even the Dark Lord could not truly do that.
No one could truly escape death.
The Dark Lord had not defeated death. He had simply never died all the way. Claims about conquering Death itself were just more of the same old boasting. Voldemort had never lacked for grand speeches.
Bring Lily Evans back?
That was only a lie. A lie meant to control him.
"A child's body. Magic beyond anything I should be able to measure. Casting the Killing Curse without an incantation. And that absurd method of causing chaos with rats just to cover some larger plan…"
"How could I possibly mistake him? It's him. It has to be him. That man."
Snape clenched his teeth.
Then, at last, made his choice.
"I have to find Dumbledore."
Once again, Snape chose his side.
He and the Dark Lord could never stand under the same sky. Even if Voldemort had truly returned, Snape had no intention of going back to him. What had happened in the past was a thorn he would never be able to pull from his heart.
His black robes billowed behind him.
Snape strode quickly back to Hogwarts, up the steps, around the corner, and stopped before the familiar stone gargoyle.
"Sherbet lemon."
The statue moved aside.
Snape entered and climbed to the Headmaster's office. The portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses had already been disturbed from their sleep, all of them opening their eyes to stare at him.
"Honestly, no manners at all."
"It's the middle of the night. Far too much noise…"
"Oh, hush, all of you. Let me hear this. Snape's definitely here to report on someone again."
The portraits began chattering among themselves.
Snape ignored them.
His gaze swept the room and landed on the old man behind the desk, who was seated there with his head bent over a book.
"Dumbledore, you miscalculated."
Snape's voice broke across the quiet office like a crack of thunder.
"The Dark Lord has returned. In a way you never anticipated."
He marched up to the desk and slapped both hands down onto it.
Dumbledore looked up.
His finger paused on the page, then he calmly closed the book and turned it spine-down, hiding the cover of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.
"What did you discover?"
The old Headmaster's expression did not change.
Snape answered with a cold laugh.
"He's outside right now, in Hogsmeade. He intends to stir up chaos there."
"He wants to slaughter the villagers, enslave their souls, strengthen his own magic, and then come for you."
Clearly, Snape had not forgotten the Ten Thousand Souls Banner nonsense.
On his way here, he had already reconstructed the Dark Lord's "scheme" in full.
Dumbledore blinked.
For a moment, he simply looked at Snape's furious, frightened face and seemed genuinely unsure how to process something that absurd.
"If it's Hogsmeade…" Dumbledore said softly, choosing each word with care, "then I rather think Voldemort is not quite capable of something on that scale just yet."
He had no intention of underestimating the weight class of an ancient Dark Lord and a necromancer. After all, near Hogwarts, it was not impossible that Gryffindor himself might come climbing out of the ground.
"You're questioning me?"
Snape's face flushed.
"Albus Dumbledore, you're too confident." His voice rose, sharp with anger. "One day, that confidence is going to get everyone killed!"
"Severus. Calm down."
"Calm down?"
Snape stepped forward, the hem of his black robes snapping in the air.
"How am I supposed to calm down? Just now, the Dark Lord ordered me to remain undercover at your side. And yes, while we're on the subject, where is your phoenix? He may already have betrayed you!"
"Even the phoenix has chosen the Dark Lord's side!"
Snape's voice grew louder and faster, like a powder keg about to ignite.
Dumbledore watched him, eyes calm.
But in those pale blue eyes was something unreadable. It was possible the old Headmaster had concluded that Snape had tested some new potion on himself and gone spectacularly wrong.
"You think I've lost my mind?" Snape barked. "No. I haven't gone mad. You're simply too blind to see the situation as it is."
With that, he pulled out his wand and flicked it.
Gray mist curled through the air and condensed into a phantom image of the small wizard, copied from Snape's memory of what he had just seen.
Dumbledore had just begun to form a resigned, almost exasperated smile at the sight of the boy he had not seen in several days, ready perhaps to explain something, when suddenly his gaze snagged on something hanging from the boy's chest.
More precisely, on the pendant there.
It was Ariana's gift.
Something that looked utterly ordinary.
And yet, apparently, something with catastrophic killing power.
In that single instant, the old Headmaster's expression froze.
His pupils widened.
His whole body seemed to lock in place.
It was, perhaps, the one effect Voldemort had spent his entire life chasing and never once managed to achieve.