Snakes of A Scale [DISCONTINUED]

To say Thor was pissed was a strong way of putting it. Loki had fallen from the Bifrost and out of Heimdall's watch. A year later, after they mourned his supposed death, his brother showed up. Thor immediately went to fetch his brother and rejoiced that he did not die. Only to find out that Loki attempted to take over Midgard at that very same moment.

So to say he was pissed was an overstatement. Rather, he was disappointed. Surely his adopted brother knew of how fond Thor was of Midgard?

Apparently not.

And now here he was, staring down his brother currently residing in a prison through the magical mirror called a surveillance camera. Except something was wrong, terribly wrong. In fact, so wrong that it's been bugging Thor the whole time since he watched Loki enter the prison cell.

Thor knew his brother well, adopted he may be. Loki was cunning, resourceful, and skilled with magic. He was also charismatic, and charming, the type of person to pull someone in with his empty promises or even just through his mysterious character. You could never tell the difference between a genuine smile and a smile that assured of betrayal and deception. If Loki had ever smiled a genuine grin without watching a person's suffering, that is.

So you could definitely understand Thor's suspicions when Loki did not chuckle condescendingly or even crack a smile as if they were the fools, not him. His face was dubiously blank, save for the slight sneer and obvious look of suspicion. Gone was the cheeky grin of mischief and chaos. And loath would he admit that he pondered with a shiver down his spine. To do so would be to deny all the years they had spent growing up together, getting to know each other as brothers, albeit adopted.

Even still, Thor could not help but think: was this Loki's true nature all along?

But no, he could not lose hope. An imposter is still a liable possibility. However talented his brother may be, there was always a chance of other shapeshifters. They were crafty, sneaky, every bit of cunning half Loki was. And it was Thor's job to get to the bottom of this mystery, no matter how far down he had to dig. He might as well end up in Hel for how far he'd dig!

Mind set and stubborn to reveal the truth, he moved to visit his estranged brother pacing the smooth floor of the clear cell. The steps were brisk and near-silent, the strides long and purposeful. There seemed to be an air of confusion, of worry and nervousness. He almost thought Loki was breaking into a sweat just from his deep thoughts and inner contemplation. Which did not bode well for Thor nor his Maybe-Not-Brother.

Loki did not show weakness. When he did, it was calculated, and it was calculated well. If it wasn't, well then you knew that you'd broken past those well-maintained walls, those carefully laid barriers between the true Loki and whatever mask he wished to don. Yet here he was, practically wearing down the thick floor with those long impatient paces.

This moment of vulnerability, however, did not last long. His quite appropriately thundering footsteps drew the regal man's attention. His focus snapped to the clearly dangerous threat in the room, for the more obvious reason, Thor knew for certain. Loki was going to receive a stern talking to, even without the AllFather. And not a single one of his scathing remarks nor witty comebacks would rebuke those words this time.

(Thor dare not think what would happen if he revealed all his secrets to a stranger. Loki would strangle him, stab him, and throw him off the Bifrost. And rightfully so, mind you.)

The black-haired man said nothing, but his eyes narrowed in distrust and scepticism. For once it seemed, there would be no words spewing out of his mouth. There would be no calm reasons for his unreasonable actions. There would be no sarcastic thoughts spoken aloud. There would not be a single sentence uttered that would make Thor shut his mouth from the truth of it all. And he had no idea whether to be grateful for his silence or ill at ease from lack of charisma.

And Valhalla above, it was frightening.

There was something wrong with Severus. Lily knew that much.

Today, he was uncharacteristically charismatic. Not many would notice the imperceptive changes, but Lily was his best friend. Well. One of them at least.

Somehow, Sev effortlessly seemed to hold something of a stage presence. He didn't speak, yet she couldn't seem to ignore that he was just there. Everything just seemed to suddenly revolve around him, in a way. It was unnatural, even by wixen standards. The universe just seemed to fall into another kind of orbit with his very presence, both in good and bad ways. She supposed Sev was right in saying she had been studying divination a little too closely, even now. It was a far cry from how she knew her concerningly thin and pale friend. 

Severus Snape was and has always been a living shadow of sorts. It wasn't an insult, just a mere observation. He was dark and cold and all sorts of mysterious. In a place full of bright people, he shrank and shied away from the spotlight. With other, nearly equally dark people, he blended into their attitudes and behaviours into one giant room of darkness; he became darker, colder and almost dangerous.

So obviously, based on her vibe check of Severus alone, this was not Severus. This was an imposter.

Polyjuice Potion. A modified disillusionment charm. An extreme glamour. There were so many possible ways for this imposter to take her friend's form. The most plausible would be Polyjuice; the disguise was too perfect, not a detail or flaw out of place. That was an easy deduction to make. The only problem was; how did this happen and where was Sev? Because he had been just been standing there, brewing potions for the past hour. Lily even checked on him around 40 minutes ago! Back then, she could tell it was just good old (not old, he was very young, the youngest potioneer to get a Mastery in Potions ever! She was still proud of his achiev—) Severus Snape, deep concentration in his brewing.

There he was just earlier, standing over his cauldron unblinking. It was almost as if he had no clue as to what he should do next. Which was such a Sirius Black thing to do when it came to Potions, but not Severus, brilliant genius Potions Master he was. It was time to get to the bottom of this conundrum. And she was going to the Dark Arts expert and holder of a massive library of darkness.

She going to enlist the help of a relentless and equally best friend, Regulus Black.