The Cost of Being a Death Eater. (Closed to Scriven)

[Artificial Sugar]

Spoiler

Name: Atropa Trist


Age: 17


House: Slytherin


Best Classes: Potions, Charms, Transfiguration.


Worst: Divination, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures.


Personality: Atropa is shy and quiet, but highly intelligent. She enjoys reading and art, as well as potion making. She can have quite a temper if provoked though.


Other: She was meant to be in Ravenclaw, but asked to be in Slytherin in an effort to make her family happy.


Looks:


Atropa sat at the long table- which was made of mahogany, and quite expensive, as her parents always told her- alone.


The clock on the wall counted down the seconds, making Atropa's anxiety grow with each "tick".


Her hands began to sweat and she clasped them together tightly, her legs swinging off the chair with nerves. It had always been a habit of hers, and her mother hated it.


She was constantly being told to sit still, to stop being anxious, to calm down. It never ended.


It was a constant flow of insults and requests to be better around company.


The clock finally stopped ticking, and the door to the living room opened. Her parents filed in, smiling at her.


"You've had your chance to join on your own accord." Her mother said, eyes glinting maliciously.


The room had turned a pale blue color, everything was washed out. It hurt Atropa's eyes.


Her parents looked sick, and she thought that maybe they looked a bit skinnier as well.


"We'll ask you once more; Will you join us as a Death Eater?" Her father spoke this time- his face was expressionless.


In her life, Atropa hadn't really gotten a chance to know her father, since he was either working, or having a drink in the lounge, which meant he was not to be disturbed.


Atropa shook her head, biting her lip, knowing that this wasn't the answer they wanted.


But it was the only answer she would give- she would never join them. Their ideals went against everything she believed in.


"No." She whispered, fear making her voice shake.


"Then you give us no choice." Her mother replied, voice cool and full of venom.


And then her parents came forward and Atropa stood, backing away from them, heart beating with fear.


"This will only hurt a little." Her father said, still emotionless as he grabbed her arm and held it out to her mother.


Atropa's mother smiled and brought out a branding iron from behind her back- it had the Dark Mark on it.


"N-No!" Atropa cried out, trying to get away, but her father held her tight.


And then the brand touched her skin and she could smell it burning, feel it bubbling, and she screamed loudly, closing her eyes-


And then she woke up. She was in her bed at Hogwarts, although for a moment she didn't know where she was.


Once she'd calmed down, she sat up and pushed the hair from her sweat covered face.


The dream was usual for her- it had been keeping her up lately. She was beginning to show signs of not sleeping- her skin was more pale than usual, and she had dark bags under her eyes.


She had no appetite either, and although she had never been fat, her uniform now hung on her small 5'5 frame. It used to hug her curves nicely, and she'd even thought well of herself.


Sighing, Atropa got out of bed and decided to shower, since no one else was up right now to bother her.


She grabbed her toiletries and walked to the girls bathroom, turning on the hot water in one of the showers.


The water calmed her and made her heart stop pounding, but she still felt ill. No breakfast again, today.


She took an extra long shower, just because she could, taking the time to wash carefully and shave everything nicely.


Usually she rushed, and often cut her legs on accident, but not today.


When she was finally done showering, she got out and dried off, taking her time to make sure her hair was almost completely dry. Once she was satisfied with her hair, she got dressed in her now loose uniform before brushing her hair.


She'd never wore makeup, so she didn't need to take the time to apply it, which was quite lucky, since it seemed that most girls she knew took at least half an hour- sometimes up to two- to apply their own makeup.


Some girls even got up earlier than her just so they'd have time to apply it.


The thought of doing all that preparation each day made Atropa's head spin- how could you apply makeup each day when it just came off after a shower?


Shaking her head, she took one last look in the mirror and began to leave the bathroom.


As she left, the other girls began to enter, smirking at her here and there, hiding giggles behind their hands.


Ignoring them, Atropa made her way back to her bed, where she put her things away and grabbed her books and school bag before leaving the dormitory.


She made her way to the Dining Hall, where she sat for a while and drank ice cold water, but ate nothing.


Then she got up and took her time walking to her first class of the day- Potions. As usual, she was early, but she didn't care.


Professor Snape never minded her coming in early either, it seemed. Perhaps it was because she was quiet, or maybe because he knew her parents- either way, she was glad. She disliked making anyone angry, especially teachers, and everyone knew that Professor Snape had a horrible temper.


Atropa took her usual seat up front and unpacked her things, then began to read a book she'd brought with her.


Class wouldn't begin for at least another fifteen minutes, so she had plenty of time to read happily, which was what she basically did in her free time, after completing homework. Some people thought she read too much, but reading was one way she could escape her own life, and she enjoyed it.


A crowd of students passed the door, speaking loudly and laughing, which made Atropa wince and glance at them from behind her book.


She hated how loud everyone was- why was it so hard to be quiet? She spoke quietly and calmly, no matter where she was, just as a courtesy to everyone around her.


Some people had no manners, it seemed.


Sighing, she returned to her book, ignoring the loud students in the halls the best she could.

 

[Scriven]

It was not quite light out when he set off into the Forbidden Forest. A lantern was raised high enough to cast its ghoulish green light in an eery circle around him, illuminating the ground. In his other hand was an empty bag, but it wouldn’t be empty for long. It was time to replenish some of his stores, particularly his supply of bursting mushrooms. The fungi, which could detect movement and would burst violently when approached, were notably difficult for most witches and wizards to gather, but they were an ingredient that Severus had collected countless times before.


Growing beneath a gnarled root that protruded up from the damp ground, the red and white spotted mushrooms began to faintly shrink and swell as he approached. The closer he got, the more that swelling would increase, and if he got too close they would explode rather dangerously. Severus had no intention of setting the mushrooms off though. He set the green-flamed lantern on the ground and withdrew his wand from one of the deep pockets of his voluminous robe and flicked it toward the mushrooms. They froze, then slowly deflated, disarmed. With a quick flick the mushrooms plucked themselves from the ground and flew into the open mouth of his waiting bag, which smoothly re-tied itself once the fungi were contained.


The Ice Potion was on the agenda today for his Seventh Years. He expected the few who had made it into his advanced Potions class to have few problems with it, but the stakes were high. The potion granted its drinker protection from fire. He would, naturally, have them test it. If they had made the potion improperly or selected the wrong ingredients, it would mean rather painful burns and a trip to the infirmary. It was imperative that such potions be made correctly though. Some of the professors thought his methods were extreme, but he believed in preparing his students. Burns could be easily treated at the school, but if they were to incorrectly brew the Ice Potion and come into a situation where they truly needed it they would likely not be so lucky.


Severus returned to the school. The students and teachers were still in the Great Hall drinking their pumpkin juice and eating their Pixie Puffs. He could hear their incessant chatter even outside the Great Hall and decided to continue on to the dungeons where he could prepare for his first class in quiet and solitude.


Solitude was clearly not meant to be though. He opened the heavy door to his cold, dungeon classroom and saw a black-haired student already waiting. It was only Atropa though, and she was unlikely to cause him much trouble. She was a quiet girl and one of his more gifted students, not that there were many at the school who truly appreciated the fine art of potion making. She had little competition among the empty headed students who had managed to barely scrape together the grades required to take his advanced class. Oh, there was a bit of talent here and there, but Severus couldn’t recognize any of them as true potions makers.


Severus made no word of greeting, but drifted silently to the desk at the front of the room, unpacking the supplies he had gathered that morning. He summoned another table to the front of the room and flicked his wand. The mushrooms levitated and floated over to the table. Beside them he put several other varieties of mushrooms- some quite similar in appearance. He wanted his students not only to be able to prepare the potion, but to be able to correctly identify the ingredients. He did the same with the Wartcap powder, and finally set out vials of different dark substances. The seventh years would have to determine which was the true salamander blood. If all was done correctly, they would walk away unscathed. If they were even stupider than he thought, they would walk away with terrible burns. It would be an interesting lesson either way.

 

[Artificial Sugar]

Atropa had been sitting in class for a while before the Professor entered. He entered silently, as always, but Atropa could sense a change in the air, and looked up, watching him closely.


She didn't say anything- just watched- curious as to what their lesson would be today.


Atropa could usually figure out what they were going to make by the items on the tables up front, and today was no different.


She already knew that they would be making an Ice Potion this lesson, and she was also well aware of how difficult it was.


Normally, she was confident and ready to make any potion- even excited- but at the idea of making this particular one, she grew nervous.


An Ice Potion was very hard to make, and a lot of things could go wrong. Atropa hoped she wouldn't make a fool of herself.


As she gazed curiously at all the items Professor Snape had set out, she spotted the Salamander Blood. Atropa had done her fair share of studying many potions, and she knew that in order to make this one correctly, you needed to pick out the true salamander blood.


Since she was already in class, she gazed at each vial, trying to determine which was the correct one.


Salamander Blood was typically very dark, so Atropa looked at each vial's color, and finally came to the conclusion that the second to last vial on the left was the real blood.


Smiling at herself she nodded, writing a small note down to remember exactly where it was.


And then more students began to file in, as class was starting in only a few minutes. Atropa had a small head start, but she didn't really feel guilty. It was one thing among the rest, and if anyone else in class wasn't a complete idiot, they'd be able to find the correct blood as well.

 

[Scriven]

As students began to mill in, Severus took his spot at the front of the classroom, leveling each student that entered with a pale, unemotional stare. It was somewhat rewarding to see the way that conversations often stopped mid-sentence when students stepped through the door to the dungeon classroom. All that could be heard was the shuffling of feet, the thump of books, the soft turning of pages.


The class this year was small. Few had scored high enough on their O.W.L.s to enter his advanced class, though there were representatives of each house. It was to his dismay that even two Gryffindors had managed to scrape together acceptable scores.


The students were seated and the room was silent while they waited for the lesson to begin. “Today you shall attempt to create the Ice Potion,” he informed them, his voice a carefully controlled monotone. “This potion protects those who consume it from the effects of fire for a short amount of time. Naturally, after you have taken the potion you create today, you will-”


Severus stopped abruptly. Another student had just hurried into the room, several minutes late. He sneered at the Hufflepuff girl who had entered and was contritely emptying her bag onto the table next to the other Hufflepuff student.


“Miss Blot, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company today?” he asked smoothly. She looked up and blushed, wringing her hands.


“I’m sorry professor, I- I had to go back for my book, I left it-”


He raised a hand silently and the girl shut up. “Ten points from Hufflepuff for disturbing my class. And Miss Blot, in the future if you cannot make it in time, do not bother coming at all. Do we have an understanding?”


“Yes, professor,” she murmured, sitting. Severus glowered at her for a moment, then inhaled deeply.


“As I was saying before the interruption, you will be testing the potion that you make today, and after you have taken it you will be casting fire charms on your partner. If you have made your potion incorrectly, it will become immediately apparent.”


Several students paled, but he continued on, nonplussed. “This will be a test not only of your potion making skills, but also your ability to correctly identify ingredients,” he told them, beginning to pass between tables as he spoke. “Many of you seem to think that you can pass my class with weaknesses in your other subjects, but that is incorrect.” His fingers brushed along Atropa’s desk. “Even the most talented potion maker can fail if they are not also familiar with Herbology.”


It wasn’t a comment meant to embarrass her, but rather to focus her attentions. He knew which subjects she excelled at and which she was weak in. If she could not correctly identify the proper mushroom, it would mean terrible burns and pain for her.


“Of course, any students needing treatment for burns will receive it,” he told them, albeit reluctantly. If it was up to him, he would have made them bare it and learn a valuable lesson. “You may begin.”

 

[Artificial Sugar]

Atropa listened closely to what Professor Snape was saying, as always. Sometimes she was afraid to even blink when he spoke, since if she missed even one thing he said, it could mean her potion would go wrong.


Of course, that was just her own anxiety acting up, since the directions were always written on the board, or in their book, but...


And then Professor Snape was rudely interrupted by a Hufflepuff student who blubbered about her book. Of course Atropa felt that Professor Snape handled it well- he hadn't yelled at her, he'd simply told her to not come if she was late.


It was reasonable, but there were students in class who shook their heads and glared at him angrily, as if he'd done something wrong.


Professor Snape continued, and the class once again turned their attention to him. His class was the only one that was ever fully silent, since everyone was far too terrified to talk in his presence.


Atropa didn't have anyone to speak to in class anyway, so it never bothered her. She preferred silence when she worked.


When the Professor brushed her desk with the comment on Herbology, Atropa flushed bright red and lowered her head, letting her hair fall in front of her face.


She wasn't very good at that particular class, of course not- she had the most terrible OCD when it came to being clean.


Herbology usually involved dirt, and Atropa, hard as she tried, couldn't get over that.


Silently, she cursed herself and her OCD, knowing it would be a bit more difficult to identify the proper mushroom. She wouldn't let that stop her though- she was going to study each and every mushroom closely, and eventually she would figure it out.


And then it was time to begin.


Atropa had already figured out which vial held the true Salamander Blood, so she grabbed that first, and then made her way to the table with mushrooms.


Standing to the side so as not to disturb the other students, she examined them closely.


Biting her lip, she closed her eyes and tried to remember what she'd read about Bursting Mushrooms.


They were red... With... Blue spots on top? Sighing and shaking her head impatiently, Atropa concentrated harder, and then opened her eyes with a smile.


Red with white spots on top. She was sure of it. Grabbing the correct mushroom, she went back to her seat with the ingredients, and began to make the potion.


She usually followed the book, but sometimes she added her own things here and there- instead of stirring one way, she took turns stirring the other way.


She'd discovered that these small things helped when she'd been practicing over the Summer.


------


It had taken almost the whole class period, but finally Atropa's potion had become the dark red it needed to be. Glancing up at the clock, she realized it was time to put some in a vial and put it up front.


Fumbling with the vial, hands shaking with nerves, Atropa finally managed to pour some of the potion inside and put the stopper in.


With ten minutes to spare, she put her name on it and put it up front, waiting for the testing to begin.

 

[Scriven]

Severus nodded silently to himself as he watched the students studying the different materials he had laid out. Some were dangerously similar in the way they looked. It would take a careful individual to select the correct ingredients. He observed Atropa scrutinizing the mushrooms, her eyes closing for a moment as if she were pulling up an encyclopedia in her mind. When she opened her eyes and smiled, he felt one of his brows raise slightly. She selected the neutralized blasting mushrooms and he felt a small sense of satisfaction. He felt rewarded that one of the students from his House was so bright and conscientious. Atropa was an unusually talented witch, particularly when it came to brewing potions. Now that she had gotten past what for her would be the most difficult part, he had no doubt that her Ice Potion would turn out correctly.


The class worked diligently, and there was very little talking. He listened to the sound of knives carefully chopping the blasting mushrooms, the grinding of Wartcap in their mortars, and the soothing bubble of their potions as they brewed. One by one, vials of potion were set upon his desk for inspection. He looked at all of them, lifting a few to the light, sniffing others. There was one failure among the batch, but the rest were correct.


"I will have you pair off in a moment to sample and test your potions. However, we have an odd number of students today."


He clenched his jaw and surveyed the class, then settled his gaze on Atropa.


"Miss Trist, to the front of the class please. I would like to give the class a demonstration of how the Ice Potion works."


He lifted her vial off of the table and handed it to her, his cool fingers brushing her skin for a moment. She felt warm, he thought, despite being in the cool dungeon. He brushed aside the thought that she also had unusually smooth skin.


"Drink that," he instructed her, and when she had he withdrew his wand from within the pocket of his robes. "Incendio!"


A jet of orange flame shot out of his wand and hit Atropa, but had no affect. Instead of burning her or catching her robes alight, the fire flickered harmlessly, then disappeared.


"This, class, is how an Ice Potion- when properly made- should work. Five points to Slytherin."

 

[Artificial Sugar]

Atropa felt totally confident in her own potion, so she had no need to worry.


However, glancing around the room, it was obvious that some of the other students didn't feel the same about their own potions.


She didn't want to seem as if she was gloating though, so her face stayed passive, unemotional.


And then the Professor called her up to the front of the class, and she suddenly grew nervous.


Atropa hated being called on in class- her anxiety was so bad that she usually stuttered or stumbled, and she got embarrassed.


Biting her lip, she did as told, watching where she walked so as not to trip, and stood next to Professor Snape.


"Yes, Sir." She answered him, taking the vial and drinking, knowing she would be fine.


The potion caused her to feel as if she'd just bathed in ice, but it wasn't really unpleasant.


She actually found it almost comforting.


And then Professor Snape lit her on fire- or tired to, anyway- her potion was a success.


She hadn't been worried, but it was still a relief when she didn't catch fire.


Smiling proudly, she blushed and wrung her hands together, making her way back to her seat.


Class was now officially over and she'd been the only one to be tested.


No one packed up, however- everyone in Professor Snape's class always waited for permission to pack up before leaving, since none of them wanted to get detention.

 

[Scriven]

There wasn't enough time for everyone to test their potions, much to the potion master's disappointment.


"We shall resume where we left off next time," he told them in a level tone. "You are all dismissed."


He waved his wand and the corked vials levitated off of the table and floated to a cabinet to be stored till the next class. His students were packing up their supplies and putting books into book bags. He stepped over to Atropa's table and settled his dark eyes on her.


"Miss Trist, I require a short meeting with you in my office tonight after dinner. Your parents have expressed some of their concerns to me, and I'd like to discuss them with you."

 

[Artificial Sugar]

Atropa left the Professor's side and went to her desk, gathering her books and other items while the rest of the class hurried out.


She was betting that most of them would somehow try to weasel their way out of testing their own potions.


Hearing what Professor Snape said made Atropa's face lose all color, and her heart speed up.


"Y-Yes, Si-sir." She replied in a whisper, terrified.


Professor Snape talking to her parents could only mean one thing. And it wasn't something good.


Grabbing her things, she hurried from the class, already dreading the next night.


(If you like, we can skip ahead.)

 

[Scriven]

Severus was in a difficult position.


He was a man with many, many secrets. None was greater, of course, than the fact that he was a spy for Dumbledore and acting as a Death Eater. It was a dangerous secret, and it was a secret that often required him to do things he did not necessarily wish to do. One of those things was to urge one of his favorite students to follow the path of her parents. Had her parents been good, upstanding wizarding citizens, perhaps it wouldn't have been a troubling task. However, the fact remained that the Trists in fact were not good, upstanding wizarding citizens. They were followers of the dark lord, and a rather nasty couple in his opinion. They wanted their daughter to lead a life that would be dangerous to her and others.


He had a strong desire to protect this girl, but he was struggling with how to do so while maintaining his cover. Severus Snape was an extremely clever man, however there were times when clever would only take one so far. He had concluded that he had no other option than to do what he had become quite good at doing: saying one thing and doing another. He would urge her to serve Lord Voldemort while actively ensuring she didn't. He would make sure to put every obstacle he could think of in her path.


It was easier said than done, of course, as were all things. He made his way down to his office and waited patiently.

 

[Artificial Sugar]

Atropa had gone through the rest of her classes in a daze. She was terrified of what Professor Snape had to say to her.


When it had anything to do with her family, she'd rather have nothing to do with it. But of course, she couldn't tell a teacher no.


She was in such a daze that she took no notes, and had no clue what her homework was for the rest of her classes. In the end, she decided to go back and ask the teachers the next day, since she could make it up quickly and easily.


At dinner, she could barely eat, just picking at her food, stomach too upset to hold anything in.


She knew that it would be better if she did eat, but she didn't want to risk throwing up from nerves.


Atropa had taken her time with dinner, dragging it on so as to push the meeting back further, but eventually she had to get up and face it.


Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she made her way to the Potions classroom and knocked, entering quietly.


"Hello, Professor." She said, hands clenched at her sides.

 

[Scriven]

Atropa finally arrived, appearing later than he had expected her to. She looked pale and nervous, her hands balled into anxious fists at her sides. He couldn't blame her. He knew the sort of pressure her parents must put on her, and she no doubt expected to be getting the same treatment here at school now too. Unfortunately her expectations were correct. He would have to at least give the appearance of swaying her toward the path of becoming a death eater. He felt bad for the poor girl, but made no sign of it. If anyone was an expert at hiding their emotions, it was Severus Snape.


"Miss Trist," he said in greeting, his tone carefully even. He removed his wand from a pocket of his robes and waved it toward the door, causing it to quietly shut, lending them privacy from nosy eyes and ears. This wasn't a conversation he needed the wrong person hearing.


Severus lowered himself back down into the chair at his desk, summoning a chair to appear before it. "Sit," he instructed, motioning her over. "Your parents are concerned about the path your future is taking. Do you have plans for what you will do once you graduate?"

 

[Artificial Sugar]

Atropa jumped a bit when the door shut. Even though it was quiet, she was beyond nervous, and even that small sound made her heart race.


She wished at this moment that she was brave and had courage, and that she had moved out of her parents house, instead of staying and putting up with everything. Maybe she wouldn't be in this mess. She already knew what Professor Snape wanted to speak with her about.


She took a seat, as instructed, wringing her hands in her skirt, trying to keep her feet still. She had a horrible habit of fidgeting when she was nervous.


"I- I'd like to.. Become a teacher. Here at Hogwarts." She replied, eyes cast down, looking at the desk.


It wasn't an answer that her parents would accept, so she was sure that Professor Snape wouldn't either. But it was the truth. She was tired of lying to make everyone happy. Her parents would most likely kick her out, or send the other Death Eaters go after her. But she would find a way.

 

[Scriven]

A teacher? He never would have imagined. He tried to imagine Trist at the front of an eager classroom delivering an important and riveting lesson plan. It wasn't all that hard to picture, so long as she gained a bit of confidence in herself. I wonder what she would teach, Severus thought, pressing his fingers together atop the desk.


"Your parents had hoped you might take another path, Atropa. A different path. I had as well, I admit. You're a very bright young woman. One with such talent could do much if she had the right support... And if she supported the right people. Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Atropa?"


It was something he very much didn't want to say. His dark eyes bored into her, yet were carefully impassive. This brilliant, pretty, kind young woman would soon be facing great threat. He had to find some way to protect her. He would devise a plan to keep her close, he decided.

 

[Artificial Sugar]

Atropa knew that in order to become a teacher, she would have to become more confident in herself. After all, you couldn't teach a class if you were unsure of yourself. What student would actually respect and listen to you?


Of course, she'd have plenty of time to work on that.


"I do, Sir." She replied, nodding. "And I have told them that I don't want to follow their path." Her voice was surprisingly calm and strong. She was fearful of her parents, and of the Dark Lord, but she had no fear speaking the truth to Professor Snape.


"I'm sorry, Sir. I know it's not the answer you or my parents wanted. But it's the truth."

 

[Scriven]

Severus sucked in a soft breath. He had expected her to be reluctant to follow in her parent's footsteps, but he hadn't expected this calm adamance. There was quiet confidence in the way she spoke that was uncommon for one her age. He nodded minutely, his expression grave.


"There is peril to denying this path that has already been laid for you. Are you sure you're prepared to face that?"


He already knew what her answer would be. He could see the strength that burned in her eyes. It wasn't a forceful strength, but he sensed it was unwavering.

 

[Artificial Sugar]

Obviously this could have horrible consequences for her in the future, but she couldn't bring herself to join a group she despised so much.


She wouldn't let fear dictate her life anymore.


"I am, Sir." She replied, totally sure in her decision.


She could imagine what her parents would do once this information was passed back to them. Luckily, she had the most important things here with her at Hogwarts, including her cat. They could kick her out, but they couldn't ruin her things or hurt the one thing she cared about.

 

[Scriven]

Forcing himself to glower, Severus slowly rose from his desk. He sighed tiredly and motioned for Atropa to rise.


"Miss Trist, I can only hope that this is part of some strange rebellious phase you're going through and that you see the inanity of this decision in time."


Time was ticking for them both, it seemed. He knew that Lord Voldemort would soon be calling upon the next generation to swear their loyalty to him. They would not necessarily be asked to take the mark at their time, but they would have to stand before him. He knew Atropa would refuse to do such a thing, and when she did it would almost certainly cost her her life. He would have to find some way to make sure the meeting between Atropa Trist and Voldemort never happened.


"You may go now."