1. Accio 2. Avada Kedavra 3. Braking Charm 4. Blasting Curse 5. Colloportus 6. Crucio 7. Confundus 8. Diffindo 9. Disapparate 10. Engorgio 11. Expecto Patronum 12. Furnunculus 13. Flagrate 14. Horn Tongue 15. Hurling Hex 16. Impedimenta 17. Imperio 18. Incarcerous 19. Jelly Legs 20. Knitting Charm 21. Langlock 22. Legilimens 23. Levicorpus 24. Lumos 25. Mobilicorpus 26. Morsmordre 27. Muffliato 28. Nox 29. Obliviate 30. Oppugno 31. Orchideous 32. Petrificus Totalus 33. Point Me 34. Protego 35. Quietus 36. Reducto 37. Relashio 38. Rictusempra 39. Sectumsempra 40. Sonorus 41. Scourgify 42. Silencio 43. SpeRevelio 44. Stupefy 45. Tarantallegra 46. Tergeo 47. Twitchy Ears Hex 48. Unbreakable Vow 49. Wingardium Leviosa 50. Waddiwasi


24. Lumos

He was exhausted after the rage had worked its way out, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. The pain at his temples pulsed almost unbearably. Sometimes, he had bad nights, and that was when he stalked along the dark corridors of the castle. This was going to be one of them.

At some point in the fit following Potter’s disastrous occlumency session, he’d managed to extinguish the lamp. There was no telling how long he’d sat there in the dark, his breath laboring like a wounded animal’s, before he began to recognize his surroundings again. The shimmering glow of his memories still emanated from the stone basin of the Pensieve. They swam silver-white on the wall, like a ghostly Northern Lights.

“Lumos.”

The wand sparked, the beam of light emanating from the tip emphasizing the height of the ceiling and casting long, menacing shadows from the furniture crowding the dungeon where he did his work. His reflection glared back at him from the tarnished mirror hanging among the potions equipment, and he scowled. A murderous combination of shame and anger still glittered in his eyes.

“Just like his father,” he spat out, under his breath.

2. Avada Kedavra

“Don’t you hurt her!”

He fought to position himself between his mother and the vicious, drunken muggle who’d fathered him, but the corner of the kitchen table blocked his path. The older man turned on Severus, landing a stinging backhand that knocked him back into the cabinets. His wand was in his hand before he knew it.

“No! Severus, no!” she screamed.

Tobias snarled, but he had the sense to freeze. “Git up to yer room, boy. This is nuffink to do wi’you.”

“Don’t you hurt her.”

“Severus, please. Do what he says. Please. I’ll be fine. Just go upstairs.”

Furious and shaking, he whirled and took the stairs two at a time, knocking a picture off the wall as he went. Voices rose in the kitchen, and he slammed his door, muffling the sound.

“I’ll kill him,” Severus threw himself on the bed in the dingy room, scrubbing the back of his hand across his eyes. “One of these days, I’ll kill him!”

Lingering, thin daylight filtered by the yellowed curtains gave enough light to make out flies buzzing near the ceiling and he raised his wand.

“Avada Kedavra,” he hissed, and the first one fell.

3. Morsmordre

“Give me your arm, Severus.”

The sleeve of his robe slid down as he raised his arm to be branded, revealing the pale, unmarked skin. Tonight, he would be admitted into the Circle. He had proved himself worthy of the Dark Lord’s attention; he would receive his Mark.

If he refused, he would die.

He very nearly jerked it back, as the Dark Lord took hold of his arm, gripping his elbow. Very nearly.

“You have changed your mind?” Lord Voldemort’s voice was mild, solicitous.

Dangerous.

“No, my Lord,” He forced himself to look up, to meet his penetrating gaze. “Never.”

The pain was indescribable: sharp, sudden and searing more than flesh. Blue flames encircled his forearm, but all he could see were the Dark Lord’s eyes, burning into his. In some dim corner of his mind, he knew he was screaming.

As suddenly as the pain came, it stopped. Snape wept with relief. Voldemort’s grip slid from his elbow to his wrist.

“Look, Severus. See, you are mine.”

An inky, coiled serpent writhed sinuously where there had been nothing a moment before, prodded by the Dark Lord’s wand.

“Morsmordre!”

The Mark danced with its reflection in the night sky.