"How many wands did you break this time, Severus?" Dumbledore asked as Snape and Lily trudged wearily into 421 Vauxhall Road.
"Not many, not many," Snape replied with a shy smile. "There weren't that many Death Eaters this time."
He pulled four broken wand fragments from his pocket and tossed them into the fireplace. The flames flared up a few inches, crackling with a sharp pop.
Dumbledore gave a gentle wave of his wand, and two steaming cups of tea appeared on the table, accompanied by a plate of lemon drops.
"Have some tea to warm yourselves," he said kindly, gesturing for them to sit. But his tone soon turned serious. "However, Severus, I must remind you—Death Eaters are connected, distantly or otherwise, to many families in the wizarding world."
Snape raised an eyebrow but didn't respond immediately. He lifted his teacup, took a sip, and grimaced before setting it down. The tea was too sweet, and he could see an undissolved sugar cube at the bottom.
Lily, meanwhile, cradled her cup with both hands, as if seeking warmth from it alone.
"In the early years, when Voldemort was still waving the banner of 'pure-blood glory,'" Dumbledore said with a sigh, "many wizards were content to turn a blind eye to his cause. The Malfoys, the Lestranges, the Notts… even some neutral families quietly funded his activities. It wasn't until the Muggle killings began, and the Cruciatus Curse was used on dissenters, that the wizarding world's attitude began to shift. But even so—"
"Even so, blood is thicker than water," Snape finished for him. "The same people condemning Death Eaters now might still clink glasses with them at Christmas dinner."
Dumbledore gave a slight nod. "The Department of Magical Law Enforcement, under Barty Crouch, is pushing for the Emergency Measures Act to take harsher steps against Voldemort's supporters."
"But if you have any hope of working at the Ministry one day," he continued, his sharp gaze fixed on Snape, "I'd advise restraint. Snapping a few wands is harmless enough for now, but irreversible casualties could haunt your future."
"Then why is Crouch pushing such policies?" Snape noted that Dumbledore had used Tom's name directly, a sign they were in a secure location.
"He has no choice," Dumbledore said, his voice lowering. "Crouch's rise in the Ministry has been built on his uncompromising stance. With attacks happening daily, if he doesn't act decisively and lets the chaos continue, he and Minister Bagnold could be branded as weak, like Eugenia Jenkins before them, sacked for mishandling the crisis."
"Crouch is drinking poison to quench his thirst," Snape said thoughtfully, nodding. "When the war ends, no one will want a Minister with the blood of their kin on his hands."
He paused, a wry smirk tugging at his lips. "And yet, Crouch has dedicated his entire life to becoming Minister. When it's all over, he'll find that dream slipping through his fingers."
Dumbledore looked at Snape with mild surprise, a glint of approval in his blue eyes. "A keen observation, Severus. Crouch is indeed chasing a mirage he refuses to see. So, I urge you to exercise some restraint."
"Don't worry, Professor," Snape said, waving a hand dismissively. "I'll hold off until Crouch's new policies are in place. I'm not foolish enough to act without someone taller taking the heat."
Lily sat in the armchair beside Snape, quietly watching the exchange. Her tea had gone cold, but she didn't seem to notice.
Her emerald-green eyes were filled with complex emotions. This sharp, outspoken Snape was a far cry from the sullen, reserved boy she remembered.
It was as if she were meeting him for the first time, despite their years of acquaintance. The Snape in her memory could never have spoken so candidly with the headmaster, as if they were equals.
"Professor, I have a question," Snape said, sitting up straighter. "Our run-in with the Death Eaters tonight—does that count as resisting Voldemort?"
"Why wouldn't it?" Dumbledore said, blinking. "You successfully repelled and captured Death Eaters. I'd say that certainly counts as resisting him."
"Hm… fair enough," Snape said, his expression turning odd as he rubbed his temple. "Then I'll need to join a few more Order missions."
He had no desire to be known as someone who had "thrice defied Voldemort."
Only then did Snape seem to remember the third person in the room. He turned to Lily. "Lily, want to come along?"
"No…" Lily's knuckles whitened as she gripped her teacup, her voice barely audible. "I need to… handle my parents' affairs…"
Her voice broke, and she quickly lowered her head, her red hair falling to hide her face.
"My condolences," Snape said. "If there's anything I can do, don't hesitate to ask."
Lily kept her head down and gave a small nod.
Over the next few days, Snape made a point to visit a Muggle toy shop, where he bought a plastic Jerry the Mouse mask. Wearing it, he joined five more Order of the Phoenix missions.
Unfortunately, they didn't capture any more Death Eaters in those operations. Fortunately, Snape managed to snap another dozen wands.
A warning began to spread among the Death Eaters about the "Ginger Wand-Snapper"—a masked maniac who used Disarming Charms or Summoning Spells to seize their wands before breaking them.
In their final battle, Snape encountered a new problem: the Death Eaters had started tying their wands to their wrists with dragon heartstring cords.
When he instinctively cast "Expelliarmus," the opponent only staggered, the wand still firmly tethered to their hand.
"Bloody hell," Snape muttered, dodging a red flash of light. His wand sliced through the air in a sharp arc. "Diffindo!"
But hitting the thin cord with a spell was maddeningly difficult, and he nearly ended the fight empty-handed—an "air force" with no wands to show for it.
After a dozen attempts, he finally severed one cord.
As the walnut wand spun through the air, Snape could've sworn he heard a distant, heartbroken wail—"My wand!"
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