After masterfully collecting the venom from the heaps of slain monsters, Severus stepped out of the cave. He glanced around, the darkness swallowing his tall silhouette. Then, with a smooth motion, he transformed—wings stretching wide, his form shrinking into a raven, feathers dark as the night itself.
Silently, he took flight, gliding through the still, dead air of midnight.
The countless and piercing shrieks from earlier had undoubtedly drawn attention. There was no doubt in his mind—Dumbledore had noticed. But as he flew, Severus kept his magic cloaked, perfectly blended into the form of an ordinary raven. No aura. No trace. Just another shadow in the sky.
He flew farther.
Finally, he crossed the perimeter—the edge of the Anti-Apparition ward. In the blink of an eye, he apparated straight into his room.
With a tired breath, he set down his spoils, venom-filled vials clinking gently in the silence. Then he made his way to the bathroom, turning on the shower with hands that trembled from exhaustion. The water that hit his skin was almost painfully hot, but he didn't care. It had been nearly a month. The filth of battle, dust of caves, and blood of creatures all washed away, leaving behind only the sting of weariness.
Once done, he carefully warded the room—layers upon layers of protective charms—and collapsed onto his bed. Within moments, sleep claimed him, the deep, dreamless kind that only came after draining one's mind, magic, and soul.
Severus Snape was no longer just a gifted student. With unparalleled focus and grueling, solitary training, he had reached a level on par with the topmost Aurors. Though not yet near Dumbledore in magical power or experience, his spellcasting and sheer knowledge had unquestionably crossed the threshold of prodigious.
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A/N: This is a guy who invented spells and modified potions in school—without the books or space he has access to now thanks to the Room of Requirement. If anything, he's just getting started. Snape is a menace.
****
Now began the multi-step plan to dismantle the Death Eaters from within.
Step 1: The Fall of Malfoy.
A pitch-black raven circled above the Malfoy Manor—a colossal structure that seemed to consume the moonlight itself. It emanated malevolence, almost as if the air around it grew heavier in protest. The bird circled slowly, methodically, registering every window, every blind spot, every brick.
This wasn't a one-time thing.
Two weeks passed in this silent surveillance. Every single day, Severus—disguised in his raven form—scanned the manor with unshakable resolve. He studied it at a level not even the Malfoys themselves could rival. No detail escaped his keen senses. Every scent in the air, every whisper of sound, every shift of magic was memorized with the help of his immaculate Occlumency.
And now—finally—was the day.
A Death Eater meeting had been called elsewhere. The location was still unknown, but it meant Abraxas Malfoy would be away. One full day. One perfect opportunity.
The raven dove. Through the open window, it entered a dim corridor. Landing soundlessly, the bird transformed mid-motion. A tall, slender figure emerged—6'1", dressed entirely in black, a face mask hiding hollow cheeks and a crooked nose. He vanished from sight instantly.
No noise. No scent. No magical trail. This was the result of refining spells like Disillusionment, Muffliato, and scent-removal charms to their absolute limits—no, to their peak.
From his cloak, he took out a small vial of blood. With precise fingers, he let a single drop fall onto a brick on the far wall. With a soft hum, the stone shifted—revealing a secret entrance. Known only to the Head of House Malfoy.
No one else.
No sound. No magical pulse. Just an opening.
Now came the real danger.
The magic ahead would scan for a specific magical signature—that of the Malfoy family ring. It would be the ultimate test of Severus's greatest invention to date: magical signature imitation. An act long considered impossible.
Endless sleepless nights, failure after failure, had nearly broken him. But he had succeeded.
He exhaled quietly and stepped in.
A rush of ancient magic swept over him—testing, scanning, weighing his mana. He stood still, jaw clenched, heart racing. Sweat clung to the fabric of his cloak.
Perfect.
His lips curled under the mask. He had done it. The impossible.
He moved forward into the chamber—a hidden vault lit only by eerie green flame. Row upon row of dark, dangerous, and invaluable magical items filled the room.
He scanned them swiftly, but thoroughly.
A diary.
An hourglass.
A scrap of parchment.
"Riddle House, Little Hangleton, England, Great Britain."
His heart skipped.
So this was it... the meeting place. A Fidelius charm… and Abraxas had a copy of the location? They really don't trust each other. Perfect. I can use this. Stir distrust. Create fractures. Push suspicion."
He picked up the hourglass. A Time-Turner. It would serve as the perfect alibi—if he replaced it. He transfigured a piece of wood into an identical copy and set it down carefully.
The parchment was copied and restored to its original place.
"Soon… this whole place will burn. One less family of blood purists. One less legacy of hatred. A better world… for Lily."
With practiced precision, he made his way back out, transformed, and flew through the manor. Not a soul noticed. Not a single ward triggered. Even the house-elves remained unaware.
A flawless heist.
Agent 47 would be proud.
The surveillance continued, now with the added benefit of 30-hour days—courtesy of the Time-Turner. Four hours of daily observation. Steady. Unyielding.
"Eventually, the unanswered owls will stop. They'll waste no more resources tracking me. But I need them to know where I am. I must not become a complete variable yet—that would make them cautious. They'll come after me through my weakness—Lily. I have to protect her."
"Potter will likely guard her. Still… I'll enchant objects for her protection. Owl them anonymously—or better, make it look like they came from Potter. I need to keep them close together. The closer they are, the safer she is."
"I must also discreetly ward the Evans' home. Then… raid Borgin & Burkes. Make it look like Abraxas did it. I need to learn more about their relationships, their trust—or lack of it. That's how I frame him. Yes… he's home. I can move."
The raven flew into the distance and apparated again. This time, to the Acromantula cave.
The diary was drawn.
He summoned Fiendfyre—a searing inferno with the roar of a thousand cursed souls. The flames devoured everything. The diary, the monsters, the web-laced walls. Every living creature in the cave was sacrificed to fuel the fire.
"Perfect."
"Now… what do I do with the meeting location? If Voldemort's the Secret Keeper, I can't share it directly. But if I time it right—if I give the Order the place and date—they could act. All while making it look like Abraxas betrayed them. But how?"
"Maybe I should try joining the Order. It'd make everything easier. Offer them a steady stream of intel. No… not yet. Not until I can trust them. Not until Lily is safe."
Severus sat in his chair, breathing slowly, the gears of his mind turning ceaselessly.
Plans:
Protect the Evans.
Raid Borgin & Burkes. Tip off the Lestranges. Get Malfoy's men caught.
Destroy the Lestrange Manor. Kill them. Frame Malfoy.
Find the Gaunt shack. Potential horcrux site.
Investigate Wool's Orphanage. Search its surroundings.
A war was coming. Not one of armies and banners.
A war in the shadows. And Severus Snape was ready to win it.