"They want us to join now..." Snape read the words softly under his breath.
At once, he realized what they meant: Voldemort had grown impatient. He was no longer waiting for his followers to come of age, he was absorbing everyone, young or not, into the ranks of the Death Eaters. Not just Barty, but also Regulus, and several other upper-year Slytherins.
Snape turned to head upstairs, but seeing that young Barty had followed him out, he quickly motioned for him to come to a quiet, empty corner.
"Don't join them," Snape said in a low voice. "With your father's current reputation, even if you became a Death Eater, it wouldn't cost him his power, unless he chose to cover for you. But do you think he would?"
Barty shook his head with a trace of bitterness and hatred in his eyes.
"So we stick to our original plan," Snape said. "Once you enter the Ministry, just pull the 'My father is Bartemius Crouch' card a few times, act as if you're above all rules, soon enough, the Director will lose his standing..."
After speaking, Snape made his way down the corridor and up the stairs, deciding to go straight to Dumbledore's office.
As he walked, his thoughts churned. It was now 1977, this was the year Regulus proudly joined Voldemort's ranks. One year later, Regulus would offer up Kreacher to the Dark Lord...
Snape was so lost in thought that he passed the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office without even noticing it.
It wasn't until the gargoyle called his name several times in its deep, gravelly voice that Snape blinked, turned back, and approached.
"Thank you, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans," he said absently. "We'll talk again next time."
He wasn't in the mood for conversation. He only wanted to see the Headmaster as soon as possible.
"I'm not called Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans," the gargoyle grumbled, coming to life and stepping aside in irritation.
"Thank you, Mr. Sweet Guardian," Snape said hurriedly as he stepped through the gap in the wall without looking back.
The door closed softly behind him, and he found himself before Dumbledore's office door.
Knocking on the griffin-shaped knocker, Snape pushed the door open and went inside.
Dumbledore sat serenely behind his desk. He looked up when Snape entered.
"What is it, Severus?" Dumbledore asked in his calm, even tone. "Sit down. You seem rather rushed."
"Professor," Snape said, remaining standing, "I have something urgent to discuss with you. It's both critical and time-sensitive."
He handed Dumbledore the crumpled piece of parchment.
"Who are they, and who are we?" Dumbledore unfolded the note, his eyes peering through the half-moon spectacles to study the parchment.
"This came from young Barty," Snape explained. "I've managed to bring him to our side recently. He's still attending Walpurgis gatherings, Voldemort wants them to be formally initiated as Death Eaters."
"Every person has the right to make their own choices, Severus," Dumbledore said, his long fingers steepled together at the tips.
"You're right, Professor," Snape said, his voice steadying as he finally sat down across from Dumbledore. Looking him directly in the eyes, he continued, "But they're still your students.
"I'm only concerned about a few of them. Considering that you're the Headmaster, the power to make this decision should fall to you."
Snape mimicked Dumbledore's posture, resting his hands on the desk, fingertips pressed together.
"You are Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, First Class Order of Merlin, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. As the saying goes, 'those who can, must bear more.'"
"I agree with you, Severus," Dumbledore said as he rose and walked over to the perch, gently stroking Fawkes's crimson feathers. "Thank you for telling me this. Do you believe young Barty will become a Death Eater?"
"Of course not," Snape said, turning his head to follow Dumbledore's movement as the Headmaster retrieved a few folders and envelopes from a cabinet. "I wouldn't risk my own people's lives by sending them in as spies, even if it might bring greater benefits."
Dumbledore nodded, then placed the stack of parchments on his desk and sat back down.
"Voldemort's ideology is highly seductive," he said. "He tells his followers that one day wizards will no longer need to hide, that they'll be free to use their powers openly, to rule over Muggles and their descendants.
"At present, the Death Eaters mainly target Muggles and wizards of Muggle or half-blood descent. Tom still commands wide support in the magical world."
Snape's gaze drifted toward the documents on the table.
"These," Dumbledore said, "are the Board of Governors' recent resolutions. They prohibit the Headmaster and other faculty from interfering with students' right to form associations freely.
"These," he continued, tapping another pile, "are letters from the Malfoy, Carrow, Rosier, and Black families. They unanimously demand that I refrain from making any significant changes to the school's teaching or management systems."
"So officially, we can't do anything?" Snape asked.
"That's right," Dumbledore replied with a tinge of sorrow. "If I push forward with reforms despite opposition, many pure-blood families will withdraw their children from Hogwarts for private education. It wouldn't change anything."
"I understand, Professor," Snape said, leaning back in his chair. "You make the decision, then. Let them follow the course already laid out for them."
He paused, then added, "However, I recall that you've been nominated for Minister of Magic several times. Have you never considered taking a position at the Ministry?"
"Ah," Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head with mild helplessness. "In the past, I didn't wish to be bound by Ministry politics. As for now, even if I wanted to leave, there's no one who could safely take my place."
"Professor McGonagall?" Snape suggested cautiously.
Dumbledore gave him a rueful smile. "I once told you, Tom once sought the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Ever since then, we've had to replace that teacher every year.
"What most people don't know is that the Headmaster's position carries a curse of its own, left by Tom. I suspect that aside from me, no one could safely hold this office for more than a year."
"What?" The revelation took Snape by surprise. He had originally hoped to coax Dumbledore into taking a Ministry post, which would have given him a powerful patron within the Ministry itself. Now that hope was gone.
But thinking about it, it made sense. If Tom had cursed the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, why would he spare the Headmaster's seat?
Indeed, the two Headmasters who followed Dumbledore, Umbridge and Snape himself, had each met misfortune before serving a full year.