The chamber radiated an aura of dread, befitting the unholy gathering of wizarding supremacists and zealots. Shadows clung to every crevice, drinking in what little light pierced the gloom. And in their midst stood Snape - Dark Lord, master of the darkest arts. Though his body remained outwardly still, his calculating mind was as active as ever.

Those obsidian eyes, once haunted by past torments, now burned with a merciless hunger for retribution. For vengeance against all those who had trespassed against him. Those who hurt- no, it was arrogance for anyone to think they could hurt him.

Only the faintest tightening around that thin-lipped sneer hinted at any buried conflict as his glittering gaze fell upon the captive. The emotion was swiftly submerged with his impenetrable occlumency.

"You," Snape intoned in that deathly-quiet rasp, the simple word dripping with cruel promise. "At long last, your reckoning is at hand." One skeletal hand rose in a languid gesture, summoning his shrouded followers to drag their prisoner into the circle's threshold. There would be no staying of judgment this starless night.