"When you came back this time, Severus, how many wands did you break?" Dumbledore asked as Snape and Lily, exhausted, stepped back into 421 Vauxhall Road.
"Not many, not many, " Snape replied sheepishly. "There weren't that many Death Eaters this time."
As he spoke, he pulled four snapped wand pieces from his pocket and tossed them casually into the fireplace. The flames leapt several inches higher, crackling sharply.
Dumbledore waved his wand gently. Two steaming cups of black tea appeared on the table, accompanied by a plate of lemon sherbets.
"Have some tea, warm yourselves, " he said kindly, gesturing for them to sit. But his tone soon grew serious. "However, Severus, I must remind you, most Death Eaters are connected by blood or marriage to families throughout the wizarding world."
Snape raised an eyebrow but didn't immediately respond. He lifted the teacup, took a small sip, and frowned before setting it down again. It was far too sweet, and he could see a half-melted sugar cube resting at the bottom.
Lily, meanwhile, cupped her tea in both hands as if only seeking warmth, not comfort.
"In the early years, when Voldemort still waved the banner of 'pure-blood glory, '" Dumbledore sighed, "many wizards turned a blind eye to it, some even quietly approved."
"The Malfoys, the Lestranges, the Notts... even some who claimed neutrality secretly funded his activities. It wasn't until they began murdering Muggles and torturing dissenters with the Cruciatus Curse that the wizarding world's attitude began to change. But even then-"
"Even then, blood is thicker than water, " Snape finished for him. "Those who publicly condemn the Death Eaters now might still toast them at Christmas dinner."
Dumbledore inclined his head slightly. "Indeed. Though Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, is currently pushing for the Emergency Powers Act, hoping to adopt harsher measures against Voldemort's supporters."
He fixed Snape with a sharp look. "But if you ever wish to work at the Ministry, I suggest restraint. Breaking a few wands is one thing, but if it leads to irreversible harm, it could affect your future prospects."
"Then why does Mr. Crouch still insist on such policies?" Snape asked. He noted that Dumbledore had spoken Tom's name directly, meaning the place was secure.
"He has no other choice, " Dumbledore said quietly. "Crouch's meteoric rise through the Ministry was built on his uncompromising stance. Every day brings fresh attacks.
"If he doesn't act with an iron hand soon, if the chaos continues unchecked, it won't be long before both he and Minister Millicent Bagnold are branded weak and incompetent, and dismissed, as Eugenia Jenkins was before them for mishandling affairs."
"Mr. Crouch is drinking poison to quench his thirst, " Snape mused, nodding. "When the war ends, no one will want a Minister whose hands are stained with his own relatives' blood."
He paused, then smirked faintly. "Although, considering he's dedicated his life to becoming Minister for Magic, it's ironic, when all this is over, he'll be the least likely man to get the post."
Dumbledore gave Snape a surprised glance, his blue eyes glinting with a trace of approval. "A perceptive analysis, Severus. Crouch is indeed chasing a phantom he can never catch. He simply refuses to admit it. That's why I ask you to show restraint."
"Don't worry, Professor, " Snape said, waving a hand dismissively. "At least not until Mr. Crouch's new policies are officially enacted. I'm not that foolish, better to let someone taller stand in front and take the blow first."
Lily sat silently in the armchair beside Snape, watching as he and Dumbledore spoke. The tea in her cup had already gone cold, though she didn't seem to notice.
In her emerald eyes flickered a complex light. This confident, sharp-tongued Snape was nothing like the gloomy, withdrawn boy she remembered.
It felt, for the first time, as though she were truly meeting someone she'd known for years. The Snape she remembered would never have spoken so calmly, so directly, with the Headmaster, as if they were equals.
"Professor, I do have a question, " Snape said, sitting upright. "Tonight's encounter with the Death Eaters, does that count as having successfully resisted Voldemort?"
"Why wouldn't it count?" Dumbledore replied, eyes twinkling. "You successfully repelled and captured Death Eaters. I'd say that's resistance indeed."
"Well... all right then, " Snape muttered, rubbing his temples. "In that case, I suppose I'd better join a few more Order missions."
He had no desire to be one of those "who have thrice defied Voldemort."
Only then did Snape seem to remember the third person in the room. He turned to Lily. "Lily, will you come along?"
"No..." Lily's fingers tightened around her teacup, her knuckles pale. Her voice was so faint it was almost inaudible. "I have to... take care of my parents' funeral arrangements..."
Her voice caught. She quickly bowed her head, her red hair falling forward to hide her face.
"My condolences, " Snape said quietly. "If there's anything I can do, don't hesitate to ask."
Lily nodded faintly, still looking down.
Over the next few days, Snape went to a Muggle toy shop and bought a plastic Jerry Mouse mask, and wore it for five consecutive Order missions.
Unfortunately, no further Death Eaters were captured in the subsequent operations. Fortunately, however, he did manage to snap over a dozen more wands.
Soon, rumors began spreading among the Death Eaters, about the Ginger Wand-Killer: a masked madman who used Disarming Charms or Accio to snatch their wands away, only to break them in two.
In the final skirmish of that stretch, Snape encountered a new problem, Death Eaters had begun tying their wands to their wrists with thin cords of dragon heartstring.
When he reflexively whispered "Expelliarmus, " he only saw the opponent stumble, his wand still securely strapped to his arm.
"Bloody hell, " Snape muttered, twisting aside to avoid a flash of red light. His own wand carved a sharp arc through the air. "Diffindo!"
But it was far too difficult to hit the fine line accurately. He nearly found himself wandless, "air force" status, as it were.
After more than a dozen attempts, he finally managed to sever one of the cords.
As the black walnut wand flew through the air, Snape could have sworn he heard, somewhere in the distance, a heartbroken cry, "My wand!"