Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

This castle, only four stories high, is far less majestic and imposing than Hogwarts Castle, yet it exudes a heavy and oppressive atmosphere, as if bearing the darkness and secrets of hundreds of years. The castle walls are a dark gray, covered with cracks of varying depths, as if they have withstood countless wars. The outer walls are also dilapidated, and strangely, those cracks are inlaid with smooth, crystal-like ice blocks that shimmer with a cold, eerie light in the dim light, adding to the castle's chilling atmosphere.

Durmstrang's school gate was even more extravagant—two enormous stone pillars supported the heavy black iron gate, and a grotesque crack stretched from the top of the pillars to the bottom, with solidified blocks of ice in the crack. These ice blocks protruded outwards, with sharp and edgy edges, resembling giant ice crystal swords stuck in the air on the stone pillars, or strange thorns formed by the interweaving of stone pillars and ice blocks, exuding a deterrent force that kept strangers away.

As Snape slowly approached, the heavy black iron gate opened silently, revealing a path paved with small black pebbles. The path was still covered with thick snow on both sides, with occasional unmelted ice particles mixed in. Snape walked on it, and the soft "crunch, crunch" sound under his feet was particularly clear in the silent environment.

Snape stopped in front of the castle's fir wood gate. A figure wearing a thick black cloak stood before him, the hood obscuring most of his face, but judging from his build and aura, it was none other than Barty Crouch Jr., who had been waiting there.

At this moment, Barty Crouch Jr. seemed like a different person. His gaze toward Snape was calm and undisturbed, devoid of the resentment and anger he had shown in Spider's End Alley. He didn't even have a trace of extra emotion. He simply nodded slightly and said in a flat tone, "You're good. You didn't keep your master waiting."

Snape gave a noncommittal reply, his tone icy and devoid of any hint of pleasantries.

The fir wood door slowly closed behind the two, revealing a spacious and empty foyer. The floor was paved with smooth black marble, reflecting the faint light from the overhead chandeliers, creating an atmosphere of solemnity. In the center of the foyer stood two statues, one large and one small, forming a striking contrast. The larger statue depicted a witch in a long robe with a dignified expression, and her name was engraved on the base—Nelida Vokanova, the founder of Durmstrang.

The smaller statue next to it is only half a body, and its base is also engraved with the name: Harfonmont, successor to Neridavocanova.

Barty Crouch Jr. was clearly only acting as a guide, showing no interest in explaining the history behind the statues. He simply walked straight into the depths of the foyer. Snape didn't seem to care either. In his view, the entire Durmstrang Castle exuded a cold and solemn atmosphere, very similar to the Slytherin common room, only on a larger scale and with a more intense dark atmosphere.

Passing through the foyer, one walks along a corridor carpeted in dark red. Along the way, many portraits hang on the walls, the figures in which all have a fierce and indifferent look in their eyes. It is worth mentioning that the entrance to Principal Durmstrang's office has a rather novel design—it is not an ordinary door, but is guarded by a huge dragon head skull. The skull is made of some unknown material, its surface gleaming with a metallic luster, and its eye sockets flicker with a faint red light, as if it were alive, staring intently at everyone who passes by.

Upon reaching the dragon's skull, Barty Crouch Jr. stopped, bowed slightly, and proclaimed in a reverent tone, "Great Dark Lord, your waiting guest has arrived!"

Barty Crouch Jr.'s call was filled with almost fanatical reverence, each word brimming with worship of power. His voice echoed in the empty room, as if chanting some kind of dark prayer. As his words fell, the tightly closed stone door, carved with the skull of a fire dragon, slowly cracked open, revealing a dark and shadowy staircase inside. Damp, cold air mixed with a faint, almost imperceptible smell of decay seeped out through the crack in the door.

Snape stood there, a sudden, uncontrollable discomfort rising in his chest, as if cold, sticky fluid was crawling up his throat. But years of disguise and training had honed his ability to remain impassive. Occlumency acted like an invisible barrier, locking away all his true emotions—his facial muscles didn't twitch, his breathing remained steady, and even the deep disgust in his eyes was perfectly concealed. To outsiders, he was simply a loyal subordinate awaiting orders.

There was no trace of magical portraits in the room used as a temporary base. Snape knew all too well that those in power here had always risen to power through intrigue and scheming, and there was only suspicion and wariness between predecessors and successors. It would be strange and contrary to common sense if someone were actually willing to advise their successor. But this was fine; without unnecessary distractions, he could focus his attention more quickly on the person he really needed to be wary of.

Having witnessed the Azkaban escape incident, Snape already knew that Voldemort's appearance had changed, but the scene before him still exceeded his expectations—Voldemort had changed into a completely new form. He was tall and slender, standing by the open window. The biting wind howled into the room, blowing his long black hair wildly and making the edges of his robes flutter. Noticing Snape's gaze, Voldemort slowly turned around and walked to the desk in the center of the room. He nodded slightly along the way, his tone calm but carrying an undeniable authority: "Severus, my most trusted follower, come here."

Upon hearing this, Barty Crouch Jr.'s face was the first to show a complicated expression. His brows furrowed slightly, and the corners of his mouth unconsciously tightened. In his view, he was the one who was most loyal to Voldemort, and Snape was just a pawn lurking in Hogwarts, unworthy of such a title!

Snape knew Voldemort's temperament well; he knew that Voldemort didn't really mean he allowed his subordinates to be on equal footing. He quickly walked to Voldemort, slowly knelt down, and gently touched the edge of the other's trailing robes. Then he stood up and stood to the side, his eyes lowered, never touching the empty chair.

Barty Crouch Jr. watched closely from the sidelines, a barely perceptible hint of regret flashing across his face. Clearly, he had expected Snape to forget the proper humility.

Seeing this, Voldemort's face showed a seemingly gentle smile, but his eyes remained cold: "Severus, I have always seen your loyalty."

At this moment, Voldemort had a handsome face, with long, black hair falling smoothly over his shoulders. His well-tailored dark green robe accentuated his tall and straight figure. Only his eyes, which emitted a scarlet light, exuded a chilling sense of oppression, as if they could easily see through people's hearts.

Snape was secretly on guard. He had to admit that, if you disregarded the known identity, the man before him was indeed extremely deceptive. His gentle tone and proper demeanor were enough to make someone unaware of the truth mistake him for an easygoing and trustworthy person. Meeting Voldemort's gaze, Snape knelt down again, his tone respectful yet firm: "Master, I can finally return to your side."

Voldemort nodded slowly, his smile deepening: "You've been able to remain hidden in Hogwarts for so long without being exposed, which is enough to prove that you've indeed been diligently fulfilling your duties."

He stood up from his seat and walked slowly to Snape, his steps light yet carrying a heavy sense of pressure. "However, I heard some news from Barty that I'm not happy about."

He raised his hand and pressed it on Snape's shoulder. The moment his fingertips touched the ground, the pressure suddenly increased, and the "crack" of bones being pressed down was particularly clear in the quiet room. Snape endured the sharp pain in his shoulder and maintained his bowed posture: "You seem to value the title of professor very much?"

Voldemort's tone grew colder, and the pressure of his grip increased. He leaned closer, his lips near Snape's ear, his voice low and menacing: "Time is the most transformative thing. It can smooth out rough edges and erode hearts. I despise those who stand against me, Severus. If I were to discover a damned traitor among my ranks... how do you think I should make him pay?"

At that moment, a sharp, piercing pain was flowing continuously into Snape's body from the other's fingertips. It was not the dull pain of bones being pressed, but a piercing pain that went deep into the bone marrow and tore at the nerves—Voldemort was silently casting the Cruciatus Curse through physical contact.

This scene did not surprise Snape. Back in the days when Voldemort instigated the English Wizarding Wars, any Death Eater who failed to complete the tasks he assigned on time or who aroused his suspicion would be treated in this way. What made Snape even more wary was that, according to Voldemort's past habits, after the Cruciatus Curse was applied to its fullest extent, he would often follow it up with Legilimency.

In Voldemort's mind, extreme pain can destroy a person's willpower. At this time, it is easier to invade the other person's mind and discover the secrets hidden in their heart. The combination of these two magics has always been his "weapon" for judging loyalty.

At this moment, Snape's attention was more focused on Voldemort's changing strength. He could clearly perceive that Voldemort was more powerful than before. In his memory, Voldemort in the past had to hold a wand and use precise incantations and gestures to cast such a powerful Crucifixion. But now, he could unleash the Crucifixion's power to such an extent simply through physical contact. This was enough to show that Voldemort's understanding and control of dark magic had reached a whole new level.

The only good thing is that he has never slackened in his training of Occlumency over the years. In particular, after absorbing Dylan's magical theories, he has made his mental defenses more sophisticated. His current level is far superior to what it was back then, and he will certainly be able to deal with Voldemort's Legilimency.

“I think you will make the traitor pay with his life! I am willing to eliminate the dissident for you!” Snape’s voice trembled noticeably, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth, as if it took immense effort to utter, perfectly mimicking the state of being tormented by excruciating pain. Voldemort was clearly very satisfied with Snape’s performance. He slowly walked to Snape’s front, increasing the pressure in his hand, his long fingers like sharp awls, almost digging into the flesh of Snape’s shoulder.

Waves of excruciating pain assaulted Snape's nerves. Fine beads of cold sweat quickly appeared on his forehead, sliding down his pale cheeks. His body tensed instinctively, his muscles stiff as stone. His head tilted back uncontrollably, forced to meet Voldemort's scarlet eyes.

"Then tell me." Voldemort's eyes burned with an even deeper crimson, and the false, gentle smile on his face vanished, replaced by an unparalleled coldness and oppressive aura. "Severus, you've been lurking in Hogwarts for years, with spies everywhere. You should know very well, shouldn't you? Who is the traitor? Don't tell me that a Hogwarts professor like you doesn't know these things!"

Snape seemed to be in too much pain to speak, only cold sweat was pouring down his face. Just as Snape's body was about to tremble more violently from the pain, Voldemort suddenly released his hand on Snape's shoulder, and that seemingly elegant smile reappeared on his face: "Don't be nervous, I'm not going to take the life of my most loyal subordinate."

“Master…I was so foolish.” Snape quickly lowered his head, his tone filled with guilt and self-reproach. “I think you’re referring to Karkaroff! That opportunistic fellow who’s utterly disloyal!”

He raised his head, his eyes filled with urgency, and hurriedly pleaded, "Please give me a chance to make amends! I will use all my strength to find him no matter where he escapes to and bring him back to you for your disposal!"

“No need, I’ve already done it!” Barty Crouch Jr. stepped forward, his tone filled with undisguised disdain and boastfulness. “When that coward was found, he was so scared that he couldn’t even stand up and could only kneel down and beg for mercy.”

Voldemort slowly walked back to his seat and nodded slightly: "That's right, Barty handled things very well this time and did not disappoint me."

This praise was like a supreme medal of honor to Barty Crouch Jr. He proudly puffed out his chest, his face beaming with fervent pride, and his eyes were filled with provocation and smugness as he looked at Snape.

Voldemort continued unhurriedly, his tone calm yet carrying an inexplicable sense of oppression: "When Karkaroff knelt down and begged me for mercy, he said quite a few things in order to save his own life, all about a certain professor at Hogwarts. Some of his words have caught my attention."

“Master!” Snape’s voice suddenly rose, much more panicked than before, filled with undisguised urgency and anxiety, as if he feared being convicted if he delayed even a second. “That traitor’s nonsense is completely unbelievable! He’ll tell any lie to save his own life!”

"Oh? Is that so?" Voldemort raised an eyebrow, a smile of interest appearing on his face. His scarlet eyes gleamed with amusement. He said slowly, "But Karkaroff told me that you have already betrayed me and joined Dumbledore's side, becoming a pawn he planted beside me. You have switched sides, haven't you?"

“Absolutely not!” Snape immediately interjected, his voice urgent and almost incoherent. “Master, I was infiltrating Hogwarts entirely on your orders! You told me to stay there, gather intelligence, and await your return. I never deviated from your orders!”

“Heh, you’re right.” Voldemort nodded slowly. “Karkaroff really doesn’t know about this.”

He paused, a hint of barely perceptible sarcasm in his voice: "The look of shock on his face when I told him all this was utterly ridiculous. Not only did he not expect my return, but he also failed to grasp the intricacies of my schemes. From beginning to end, he was nothing but a fool kept in the dark!"

“He’s an ignorant and stupid man, and I think he’s not worthy of being your follower!” Snape quickly chimed in, his eyes full of agreement.

Suddenly, an inconspicuous little door quietly appeared on what seemed to be a solid stone wall. As he moved, the door opened inward, and a hissing crawling sound mixed with a faint dragging sound rang out, sending chills down one's spine.

Snape looked in the direction of the sound and saw a massive, thick snake slowly crawling out from behind the door. Its scales were dark brown and greasy. As it twisted its body, it dragged an unconscious figure—Igor Karkaroff. The snake didn't move fast, but it carried a chilling sense of oppression. It quickly reached Voldemort's feet and gently swung its thick body, as if discarding a worthless piece of trash, slamming Karkaroff hard onto the cold ground with a dull thud. Then, the snake nimbly climbed up Voldemort's thigh and onto his shoulder, its head slightly raised, flicking its forked tongue.

Igor Kakarov, who had been thrown to the ground, was no longer human. He was covered in wounds, his clothes were tattered, and black scabs mixed with yellow pus, emitting a nauseating stench. He could only lie on the ground, uttering intermittent moans, clearly having suffered extreme torture.

Voldemort looked up at Snape, his tone calm yet carrying an undeniable authority: "Karkaroff is right before you. He has slandered your loyalty, Severus. Are you prepared to purge the traitor?"

“For my master, it is my duty!” Snape did not hesitate for a moment. He immediately pulled his wand from the pocket of his large cloak, pointed the tip at Karkaroff who was lying on the ground, and looked at him with cold eyes and no pity.

"Heh, very good, but... I have to do this kind of house-cleaning myself." Voldemort raised his wrist slightly, then casually raised his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!" The cold incantation was uttered from Voldemort's mouth, and a dazzling green light suddenly shone, instantly enveloping Igor Karkaroff's body. Without any room for struggle, Karkaroff's body stiffened abruptly, his soul was instantly snatched away, and his eyes widened, frozen in extreme terror.

"No one else can do the job of dealing with traitors for me." Voldemort looked at Snape, a meaningful smile playing on his lips. "Only the highest authority has the right to deal with traitors."

His tone suddenly turned serious: "However, Severus, there are many more important tasks that I need you to complete."

“Master, please tell me!” Snape immediately took a half step forward, his tone full of loyalty. “I have compiled information on Hogwarts’ movements, many of Dumbledore’s plans, and those who oppose you, and I can report to you at any time!”

"I don't need that intelligence right now." Voldemort waved his hand, interrupting him, a complex glint in his eyes. He paused, then slowly said, "Dylan Hawkwood, you seem quite satisfied with him? He's a Gryffindor, yet you and the other professors are teaching him together. What a gifted child! He's even dared to fight me. Severus, have you stopped hating Gryffindor? This is quite different from the you I remember. Should I get to know you better? A Gryffindor actually earning House Credits under your tutelage?"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, his voice low but carrying a penetrating power, intently watching Snape's reaction. (End of Chapter)