I carried Hermione across the Hogwarts grounds, her weight barely registering in my arms. The adrenaline coursing through me made it effortless, but there was something else—something far more potent burning within me.

  Rage.

  A slow, seething wrath curled deep in my chest, an ember roaring into an inferno. Someone had dared to lay claim to what was mine.

  Hermione wasn’t mine. Cedric wasn’t mine. And yet… the thought of losing them, the audacity of someone trying to take them from me, sent my blood boiling.

  Another human emotion I barely understood.

  This time, I didn’t fight it.

  I let it consume me.

  By the time I reached the castle, whispers spread like wildfire. Wide-eyed students pressed against the walls, giving me a wide berth as I stormed past. They could feel it. The weight of something ancient, something they did not understand.

  Dumbledore and Professor Sanguini had already been alerted. The Dark Arts professor appeared before me, his usual detached demeanor flickering with unease as he took in Hermione’s unconscious form in my arms.

  He reached out wordlessly. My grip tightened for just a moment before I forced myself to let go.

  “Don’t leave her unattended,” I ordered, my voice colder than ice. “This was an attempt on her life.”

  Sanguini met my gaze, his crimson eyes narrowing. He dared not argue.

  Instead, he asked, “What are you going to do?”

  I didn’t hesitate.

  “Confront Snape.”

  Sanguini’s expression darkened. “I’ll take her to Dumbledore, but I’ll be right behind you. A student confronting a professor could get ugly. Even if it’s called for.”

  I exhaled slowly, letting my anger sharpen into something colder.

  "It won’t be a child he sees," I said, my voice low and cryptic.

  It will be Death.

  Sanguini grimaced at my words but said nothing. With a stiff nod, he turned and cradled Hermione carefully, vanishing down the corridor.

  I walked through the castle, each step deliberate. A slow march of fury.

  If Snape was behind this, he would pay. If someone was disguised as him, they would suffer the consequences.

  By the time I reached the Potions classroom, the halls were empty. As if the castle itself sensed what was coming.

  I stepped inside.

  The air was thick with tension.

  The room was vacant.

  Except for Snape.

  He stood behind his desk, rolling up a scroll, likely unaware of what had just transpired.

  Until he saw me.

  I flared my power to its absolute limit, pushing my body beyond what it should endure. A sickly green light burned in my irises, bathing the dim room in an eerie glow.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Snape’s entire body tensed. His wand snapped into his hand, raised before he even knew why.

  For a split second, he hesitated.

  Then, he locked eyes with me.

  And froze.

  His expression flickered—first confusion, then alarm, then something much deeper.

  Fear.

  The weight of my presence pressed down on him, magic sinking into his very bones.

  “Who?” Snape demanded, voice sharp as steel, wand steady despite the way his fingers twitched.

  I didn’t hesitate. My own wand was already aimed.

  “I am that which claims all lives in the end.”

  My voice rang out, reverberating with something more than human.

  “I am, and have always been, Death. No one can escape me forever—not even a Dark Lord.”

  The room darkened. The very air seemed to still.

  Snape’s breath hitched.

  His eyes flickered with something I hadn’t expected. Hurt.

  My power surged. Truth bloomed in my mind.

  He was himself. No Polyjuice Potion. No disguises. No traces of the Imperius Curse.

  It must have been him.

  “Brat, what are you implying?” Snape sneered, though his voice was quieter than usual, his grip unsteady.

  “That you tried to end one of the few I cherish most,” I snarled. “Hermione was a threat to your Dark Lord, and you took the opportunity to remove her.”

  The accusation hung in the air like a guillotine.

  Snape’s lips curled into an offended scowl, his black eyes flashing with fury—but also something else. Injury.

  Then, before either of us could move—

  A sharp gust of air whipped through the room as the door slammed open.

  Dumbledore entered, his presence commanding, his expression grave.

  He carried Hermione.

  Her unconscious form rested in his arms.

  Professor Sanguini followed close behind, crimson eyes darting between me and Snape.

  “Both of you,” Dumbledore said, voice quiet but firm, “put down your wands.”

  “Not unless he’s innocent,” I barked, my fingers tightening around my wand.

  The glow in my eyes intensified, flickering like embers ready to consume everything.

  Dumbledore hesitated.

  For a fraction of a second, I saw it—

  Doubt.

  Even he was shaken.

  Sanguini stepped forward, breaking the silence, holding out a large beaker filled with a shimmering, transparent liquid.

  "Then let us verify his innocence,” the vampire said smoothly.

  “Veritaserum.”

  A dose this strong would bypass even a skilled Occlumens.

  “This is madness,” Snape hissed.

  Dumbledore shook his head. “This is necessary, Severus. I believe you, but we must be certain. For who else had access to the ingredients? Who else could have swapped only hers?”

  Silence.

  The implications were clear.

  If it wasn’t Snape… then the traitor was still among us.

  And they had planned for this.

  Snape hesitated, then, seeing no other choice, drank the potion.

  Sanguini waited half a minute before beginning.

  "Were you behind this?"

  "No!" Snape rasped.

  “Did you play any part in it?”

  "Only that I chose the lesson plan and laid out the ingredients this morning," he admitted, voice bitter.

  Dumbledore’s expression hardened. “Who else had access?”

  Snape exhaled sharply. "Only the other professors. I checked for signs of Alohomora on the storeroom, and someone had used it—but the ingredients taken were minimal. What concerns me more is that something strange has been happening even when the spell hasn't been used.”

  Dumbledore’s eyes sharpened. “What strange things?”

  Snape hesitated.

  "Polyjuice ingredients have been going missing."

  A chill settled over the room.

  "I didn’t tell anyone because I wanted to catch the culprit myself," Snape admitted bitterly. “But I should have realized sooner—it couldn’t have been a student.”

  Sanguini scoffed, expression dark. “Your lack of foresight nearly got a child killed.”

  Dumbledore’s lips thinned. Disappointed.

  I turned to leave, but Snape’s voice stopped me.

  His tone was soft. Genuine. Regretful.

  "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for my failings.”

  I glanced back.

  His black eyes burned with something I couldn’t place.

  "I have loved a girl as much as you do. I wouldn’t wish her loss upon you—I know that pain. I lost my Lily first to my own foolish prejudice and second to my trust in the Dark Lord. I couldn’t even protect her son.”

  My gaze flickered to Dumbledore.

  So.

  He told him.

  Everyone keeps using that four-letter word like I know its meaning.

  The longer I stay here, the more human-like I seem to become.

  I don’t know what to do.

  Part of me welcomes this change.

  The other fears it.