Chapter 293: You're lying, Severus

Snape pushed open the door and once again stepped into the darkness. 

"Ah, you're here, Severus," the Dark Lord opened his crimson eyes in the shadows, a smile immediately appearing on his face as he watched Snape approach. 

Barty Jr., standing nearby, frowned in displeasure. 

It wasn't jealousy over how well Voldemort treated Snape—rather, it was a lingering suspicion that had never faded. Barty Jr. had never fully trusted Snape; he had worked under Dumbledore for far too long. 

Even if Snape had originally been a spy, he had now risen to nearly the second-in-command within the Death Eaters. Could someone like that still be truly loyal to the Dark Lord? 

Yet Voldemort seemed to trust Snape implicitly. 

After all, the last time he had been poisoned by basilisk venom, Voldemort had specifically ordered Snape to brew the antidote. And in truth, Snape had done an excellent job—the potion had been highly effective, sparing Voldemort from prolonged suffering. 

Snape, however, appeared completely indifferent to Barty Jr.'s hostility. He was like an empty shell, a puppet devoid of emotion, devoted solely to serving the Dark Lord. 

"I have learned the whereabouts of Harry Potter, my Lord." 

Even when speaking to Voldemort, Snape did not bow and scrape like the other Death Eaters. 

That was his privilege.

"You have done well, Severus." 

Voldemort rose from his chair and walked to Snape's side. He did not immediately ask about Harry's whereabouts but instead took a moment to commend him. 

"You and Barty are among the few who rarely disappoint me," Voldemort said. 

"I should dedicate my all to you," Snape replied, his voice devoid of emotion. 

Perhaps it was this cold and detached demeanor that irritated Barty Jr., who prided himself on his fanatical devotion to the Dark Lord. 

But Voldemort himself seemed unconcerned. His tolerance was always greater for those who were truly useful. Snape's talents in potion-making were undeniable, but more importantly, he brought Voldemort valuable intelligence. 

"Severus, there is something I have done wrong," Voldemort said in a low voice. 

As he spoke, he slowly circled Snape, moving like a serpent coiling around its prey. 

"What do you mean, my Lord..?"

A tension gripped Snape's heart instantly. Though nothing physically restrained him, it felt as if something invisible was tightening around him, constricting his breath. 

"Even I make mistakes," Voldemort continued, pausing briefly before fixing his gaze on Snape. Then, in a slow, deliberate tone, he said, "And when I do, they are often monumental." 

"I have disappointed you, haven't I, Severus?" 

"My Lord... I..." Snape's voice trembled. 

"I should not have killed Lily Evans," Voldemort said mournfully. "I made a promise to you, and yet I broke it. Though, of course, she brought it upon herself..."

Snape's heart ignited like dry straw set ablaze, instantly consumed by fury. 

But he dared not say anything he shouldn't, lest he expose the plan. In fact, he was already beginning to suspect that Voldemort was testing him—why else would he bring up the past now? 

"My Lord, she was... was just a woman," Snape said, locking away his emotions, forcing himself to appear indifferent. 

He was used to this. So much so that when he spoke the words, he didn't even feel pain anymore. Stabbing a knife into a corpse long since dead—what kind of reaction could he expect? 

"You're lying, Severus," Voldemort said coldly, tearing through the falsehood with ease. 

For a moment, Snape truly wanted to cast everything aside—to unleash his fury, to burn everything in his sight. 

But he didn't. 

Because Voldemort spoke first. 

"You loved her." 

The Dark Lord was speaking of love.

"So many years have passed, and all this time, you have resented me—resented your master," Voldemort said softly. He seemed almost pained, though there was no trace of blame in his tone. "That was my mistake. I let down someone who was once loyal to me, pushing him to stand with our enemies instead."

He knows.

He knows everything!

The thought struck Snape like a thunderclap.

For the first time in years, a sliver of fear surfaced in his long-dead heart. If Voldemort had truly seen through him, then there was no escape. The Dark Lord never forgave betrayal.

So Snape acted decisively—striking before he could be struck.

In an instant, he stepped backward, widening the distance between them, and with lightning speed, he drew his wand.

But in the blink of an eye, Voldemort had already closed the gap, his hand gripping Snape's arm with inhuman strength.

"Ugh.."

"Shh~ Don't be so hasty, Severus. Hear me out."

Snape found himself unable to move.

"I will not blame you, Severus," Voldemort said, his voice heavy with supposed regret. "It was my fault to begin with."

"I have no reason to hold it against you. Fortunately, we still have a chance to make amends."

His words made Snape hesitate for just a moment.

In the depths of those dark, stagnant eyes—eyes that seemed to reek of decay—was the reflection of a single, diamond-shaped stone.

It was pitch-black, yet dazzlingly clear, shining brighter than the stars in the sky.

"Perhaps you haven't seen it before, but you've certainly heard of it," Voldemort spoke like the devil whispering temptation.

"The Resurrection Stone. This is the secret of my rebirth. If I could return… then so could your Lily Evans. Don't you think so, Severus?"

Snape did not answer.

His abyss-like eyes were filled entirely by the sight of that small stone.

Voldemort was pleased with Snape's reaction. This was exactly what he wanted—to make Snape obsessed, to make him lose himself in the dream, to make him see hope dangling right before his eyes!

"You could have it," Voldemort's voice echoed in Snape's ears, "and bring back anyone you desire—"

Snape lowered his head, seemingly still hesitant. Half-reluctantly, he opened his mouth.

He knew that what he was about to say might expose the fact that he had once followed Cyrus's orders, but he couldn't avoid asking this question.

"My Lord… I have seen the Resurrection Stone before. Cyrus has one as well… It may not be able to truly bring back the dead…"

At these words, Voldemort's smile widened.

"Ha! Hahaha! Of course, it can, Severus. Otherwise, how do you think I returned?"

Voldemort spread his arms as if putting himself on display.

But he had no intention of telling Snape the truth—his near-perfect resurrection had only been possible because, in the truest sense, he had never truly died.

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