Like most wars, the battle was going bad for both sides. Well, that was an understatement in comparison to the open horror and chaos that resided upon the once-peaceful grounds of the majestic castle. Flashes of light gleamed all over, confusion, panic, mayhem, grief, and sadness were the emotions that played around the grounds. Using his acute sense of irony, Severus Snape realized that from a distant view, the battle may look like some sort of makeshift firework show.
He was walking with deliberation to a tree, underneath which, he knew lay a passageway. A passageway that, at one time, could have lead to his imminent demise had someone not stopped it. However, this time there would be no one to stop his passing. No one cared enough to anymore. No one, not any professor, not any student, he had no friends. He had colleagues, yes, many colleagues, colleagues that would not mourn his passing, nor cared a bit for his life. There had once been a man who cared, a man whose eyes always gleamed like the stars at twilight. A man who had done his best to protect Severus, to make him feel welcome, to make him feel human instead of like an animal.
Snape had killed him.
He decided against using the hidden passageway underneath the tree to reach the fate which he understood to be inevitable. For some unknown and highly insane reason, he felt nostalgic. He decided to draw out his walk to the gallows. He moved past the tree, and instead, found himself traveling on a small path that winded down toward a small village. He quickly found a broken down shack that resided at the top of a hill. He registered vaguely that all of the marauders, his tormentors, were gone. Potter, many years ago, the start of all this. Black, dead at the Ministry, or maybe just resting out of sight; the sad price to pay for going against the Black house rules. Pettigrew, dead by his own greed and cowardice. Lupin, dead protecting someone from enduring the same fate as he.
No, there was no time for this. He must move on toward his demise, so that Potter, and the wizarding world, could win. And that's when he heard it, a the soft, silky voice of the dark lord, magically magnified to one hundred times normalcy. Telling the opposition to lay down their arms and to hand over the boy.
They wouldn't. No one would ever do it, however the boy would come of his own accord, both Dumbledore and Voldemort knew this. 'All part of the plan.' He navigated his way to a moderately sized door and entered, he wound his way down, down into the awaiting arms of death, down to Voldemort, down into hell.
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Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger had finally found their way out of the tunnel that lead to the shrieking shack. They could hear nothing, and their surroundings were barely visible. After fumbling around for a moment, Harry found a box that seemed to cover a hole. A hole that looked as if it would be easy to crawl through. Harry peeked in and gave a start. There he was, there was Voldemort sitting on a high-backed, throne-like, chair and near him sat the final horcrux, Nagini. But how could they reach the vile animal?
Voldemort seemed to be waiting for something, for him obviously, but there was no way Voldemort could possibly assume that Harry would go charging in to challenge him. Could there be something else could he would be waiting for? Harry then noticed the Elder wand clutched in his steepled fingers, maybe the wand wasn't working properly?
And then, within just a few seconds, everything changed, everything went wrong, the outcome of the wizarding world was thrown on its ear. The outcome was the same, sure, but the death count would increase slightly, yet oh so dramatically.
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Severus stopped, he had arrived in a a dingy, brown hall, there was a doorway that lay not too many feet from his person, however the door was gone now, blasted of its hinges some years ago, it lay some way away from Snape. It was deathly quiet in the shack, as if daring anyone to speak against the cold and unfeeling tomb-like house. Voldemort lay on the other side of the door, waiting, waiting to claim his prize, and Snape's life. Snape knew it must happen, knew that he must go on, persevere, and...die. Yet he hesitated, suddenly he did not wish to martyr himself 'for the greater good'. He wanted to run, to flee, to obey his Slytherin senses that screamed to him to do the logical thing and preserve his own well being.
He started, to walk once more, slowly this time, to the door. And to think, he was almost there too.
Crash
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Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to look at the chandelier that lay on the floor near them, no one knew who could have done it, maybe it just fell on its own. And yet it caused all of them to freeze, all of their eyes wide as saucers and yet knew that if they spoke or even moved they would give themselves away, therefore they merely sat and hoped against hope that Voldemort would think nothing of the noise. Maybe he would blame the shack for being old. Maybe they could leave.
They were wrong.
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Lord Voldemort sat up straight at the noise, he wasn't surprised so much as startled, he had been enjoying the silence that surrounded this hallowed place. Some may have dismissed the noise as some sort of random incident, but Voldemort had become much more alert- and some even said, paranoid- than the average wizard. "Who goes their? Reveal yourself." No one offered themselves forth. Fine. He would go to them.
"Ah, I see, defiant are you?" He flicked his wand and the wall that his prey hid behind broke apart. He smiled, a sense of elation broke over his usually calm person. Sitting in front of him was Potter and his two stooges. "Hello mister Potter, how nice of you to join us, come to the realization that your death is inevitable I see."
He expected the boy to run, to throw himself, full sprint towards the exit, to escape from death. "Run!" he heard the boy shout, as they sat up and fled. The dark lord smiled, Lord Voldemort was always correct.
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Panic, sheer panic clouded the minds of all three of them, they ran as they never had before. Where was the exit, where was their escape? In their search for it they had wandered down a long hallway. How big was this damn shack? And then he heard, a triumphant shout from that high, cold, cruel voice, and yet, now that their was triumph in it, it was so much more terrible.
"Avada Kadavra!"
Time seemed to stop, or at least slow down, and yet, life kept moving, and so did the cold hand of death.
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Severus Snape composed himself, surely the boy was not so foolish to bring himself to this place, so foolhardy as to alert lord Voldemort to his presence. "Run!"And yet he was, and from the sound of it more were with him. Snape felt his composure slacken. He could escape, he had been delivered from the dark lord numerous times in the past had he not? And yet, this time he was in an enclosed space, the dark lord could easily barricade the door with a spell. The prophecy would protect him, his mind offered. But the prophecy was just a guideline, nothing was set in stone.
The plan, the plan, No! All of this was going wrong, this was never in any iteration of the plan that he and Dumbledore had discussed. He heard running, he could only imagine how much Voldemort would be enjoying this. "Avada Kadavra!",the curse would miss, just like they always did, never hitting the boy who lived. Snape moved around the doorway and looked into the room, he had forgotten that he was still disillusioned, however it would come in handy, he thought as he rounded the corner and began to try and find them, he also noticed that Nagini was nowhere to be found. Perhaps the cage it lay in was charmed to follow its' master.
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Harry could not and would not believe it, Ron fell to the floor, their had to be some way that it wasn't true, there had to be some loophole. However after knowing about the unforgivable curses for about three years, he knew there was no way around it. He and Hermione looked back at the dead body in horror, big mistake. This time there would be no mistakes on the part of Lord Voldemort "Avada Kadavra!" And once again, another body fell to the floor of the shrieking shack. Harry Potter stood alone. There was nothing for it, he could not shield himself, and running would merely postpone the inevitable.
"Ah, Harry, it seems we are finally alone. After so many years, out of places to run. And people to die for you, no?"
And now there was a hint of madness in Voldemort's voice and even his red eyes, seemed to be filled with something akin to hunger. There was no way to escape, there was no choice but to fight. He knew this may be the last spell he would ever cast, and either way, would he really want to live afterwards? He had no idea why, why this was the only spell to come to mind, he knew that it was dark magic, but that did not matter, he was angry. Angry at the man who had now taken everything away from him, angry and...sad. And scared. And those emotions jumped to his mind, and inevitably, to his wand.
"Sectumsempra!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. And yet it was all in vain, Voldemort dodged the curse, and seemed to be done toying with Harry after so many years. He uttered the killing curse once more, it hit Harry squarely in the chest, he would see them all again now, right? And Harry James Potter died, with a smile on his face.
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He had done it, he, Lord Voldemort had won, after so many years. The boy was dead, the old man was dead, Hogwarts would soon fall to him, and he would no longer have to worry for any wayward prophecy. He was laughing, transported, there was nothing lest to stop him anymore. He was victorious and even happy! So happy, in fact, that he did not realize the diced pieces of his once-loved snake that now littered the floor behind him, nor did he notice the bat-like shadow that stood behind him, nor did he see the shadow raise it's wand.
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Severus Snape had seen too much, they were dead, all of them, Weasley, always the volatile one, so emotional and friendly to his peers, so overly loyal, like a dog. Like Black.
He stepped forth, and almost gasped, the snake, the great snake, Nagini lay in pieces behind Voldemort, Wait a moment. This meant that...that... The dark lord stood in front of him, laughing maniacally, he believed that he was invincible, that he had quashed his last tether that kept him, for so long, from the lure of immortality. And yet now he was at his most vulnerable.
It was easy, completely easy after what he had been forced to do before. He had done it with the complete stereotype of a Slytherin, attacking without any warning, a complete backstabber. "Avada Kadavra." The spell hit the man- no, the monster- before he even turned to face the caster. He crumpled to the floor. Dead.
It was over, all over, and yet nothing was right. The only person who was not destined to leave this shack alive was the only one standing in it. More irony. How? How was it possible? Dumbledore's plan, the plan that had been in the works for over a decade, was shattered. What had happened, this was not what Dumbledore had intended, Snape believed that he was manipulative, but their was no way this is what he wanted this to happen. This was impossible, after all of the old coot's planning, after all of the training and the things that he had gone through, the plan had been fouled.
By a falling chandelier.
It might have been humorous, but it wasn't, it was horrible, a nightmare. Yes maybe that's what this was a dream gone awry, some sort hallucination brought on by being overworked and having to use occlumancy to shield his thoughts for extended periods of time. Or maybe he had gone the way of the Longbottoms; tortured into an everlasting insanity. Poetic. He kind of liked it. Leaving him to realize some sort of hellish un-reality. And either way, this was still happening was it not?
He was still here, the shack was still here and those three nuisances were...not here. Gone. This leaden weight in the pit of his stomach should not be here, it was foreign to him. This pressure on his eyes should also not be here, nor this condensation that threatened to fill his obsidian pupils, and yet, all of it was.
The girl...Hermione, died as she had lived, eyes that were so full of inquiries. Lupin. He finally moved on to the last body, and even though it was immature and pointless, he made sure to tread on the snakelike body that impeded his progress as much as possible.
And of course, the boy, Potter. There was not much to say, he had had so much time to study the features for what felt like decades. The boy also died as he lived, a fire in his eyes, hiding the pain. Even in death. And for once, now that his eyes were open forevermore, he saw what everyone else claimed to see.
Lily. And James...together, inhabiting a single soul. Usually the thought of Lily and James being together in anything was disgusting to the dour bat. Now, it just seemed...pointless.
But Severus Snape was a man of action, he was not going to stand here and feel sorry for the deceased.
He actually twinged at that, he had called them many things: idiots, abominations, aberrations to mankind, but the deceased? No, that was going way too far. There were not many things he could do for them but they deserved something, anything. He had nothing, and what could he give the dea- those three? And then it hit him, there was only one thing he could give to them now. An honor.
He gave his wand a few flicks and soon all three bodies were floating in the air. Severus Snape had seen many dead bodies in his years as a death eater, and subsequently as a spy for Dumbledore, but seeing the bodies of these three, it was weird to think it. And it was wrong, they weren't supposed to die. Or maybe they were. Had Dumbledore known this would happen? He had told Snape that Harry would have to die...but that was after he, Severus, was supposed to die.
Harry was supposed to die, and then so would Voldemort, he had never gone into any details. Either the old man had lied or- and this was much scarier of the two- he was not as omniscient as everyone thought. They finally arrived in the atrium of the shack, where, not too long ago, Voldemort had sat in the high-backed chair. Here, he lowered the three to the floor, and still they looked wrong, twisted in odd directions, their eyes still open.
He grabbed Potter by the ankles and pulled the boy- well technically, now he was a man- and pulled him to what he decided was the middle of the room, and then placed his arms at angles so that they were at his sides, but up a bit more, as if in the act of making a snow angel. He then placed Weasley to his left, then Granger to his right, another flick of his wand and their eyes closed. He could not reanimate the dead- not counting creating Inferi- so he did his best to move their hands together, making it look as if they held hands with each other. Even into the endless depths of oblivion.
He stood back to admire his work, yes, perfect. It was then that Snape noticed that even though, they had know they were about to die, their expressions had remained serene, all except the eyes, but those had been fixed. And for a moment, he could pretend that the three merely slept, as if they could awake any moment, as if the golden trio could defy 'certain' death once again, as if Harry Potter could preform another miracle.
They did not.
Harry Potter had finally run out of miracles.
He exited the room, some loose ends still remained to be tied up.
He walked back into the blood-spattered hallway that held his would-be killer. It was easy to levitate the dead body, but, for once, he felt his concentration wane. The white face stared at him, eyes still half-turned to try and face his killer in life. He was almost out of the hallway before he remembered the wand. The death stick, the wand of destiny. He was not sure of what Dumbledore's real final plan was, but he was sure that it did not involve both the boy and the dark lord dead. He was sure that this technically made him the master of the wand. He had a plan, maybe not even a good plan, but a plan nonetheless.
He had no idea what the repercussions would be, nor did he care, all he did know on this subject was that that wand had killed them. Had killed thousands of wizards and muggles alike. He picked it up and examined it. It was such a powerful object, much like it's previous 'master'. He snapped it in half. There. Now it was broken, just likes it's master. He dropped the useless pieces of wood that used to be the most powerful wand without a second thought.
Still levitating the corpse, he made his way out into the cool, night air, he let the body drop to the ground with a monotonous thud, and touched the wand to his throat. "The Dark lord has fallen, retreat to the front of the shrieking shack!", his magically magnified voice rang out throughout all the noise and confusion, pressing in upon it and smothering it. He had succeeded in sounding frantic and almost scared, and, more importantly, convincing.
For a second, all the noise of the battle seemed to stop as everyone took a second to comprehend such a thing. His hope being that the death eaters would be distracted and discouraged by such startling news, and the order and defenders of the castle would be spurred on, thinking it had been Potter who was their savior. And then he heard frantic screams and yells resume. He could only assume that his plan had worked. He was grateful that his disillusionment charm had not yet lifted from him, as he already heard a faint pop, then, approaching footsteps.
Bellatrix, the strongest and most insane of the fallen Dark Lord's followers. She, for once, did not seem to be so insane. Harried, certainly, and...scared. This emotion seemed to be somewhat of a novelty to her. She was scanning the area, looking for something, anything to indicate her master was here, alive or dead. Or to at least find the man responsible for making her worry and who dared utter such falsehoods about her immortal master...Snape.
Her eyes finally settled on the former, she let out an audible gasp at the sight of her fallen master. Snape realized that there was no way for him to defeat her one-on-one, well, not in a fair fight. So he took his chance. Once again, like her master, she was not able to dodge the lethal curse, nor never saw its' caster. She fell to the ground and crumpled next to her master. He was sure that he had just given her the death she always wanted. Snape knew he could not continue doing this until all of the remaining death eaters were dead, however he needed answers.
And besides, eventually someone would have to figure out what was going on. Snape composed himself, held his wand aloft, and spun on the spot. He felt his way into the black space, he had planned on apparating somewhere in the grounds, that is, until he felt the wards around the castle. Or rather, did not feel the wards around the castle, what could have possibly been done to make the wards disappear? He intended to find out and maneuvered himself to apparating into the castle. He appeared with a faint pop, and was immediately walking to his office.
"Scourgify." he said to the only gargoyle that still stood guard at the door, the other was now laying on the ground moaning. The first seemed wrong-footed at not being able to see the speaker and looked around wildly, but, either way, yielded its' staircase to the headmaster. He remembered the days when he still needed to knock upon the door to be allowed in. Those days were long past. He shoved the door open with complete ferocity. As he had expected, the giant picture containing the previous headmaster was apparently empty, he wasn't fooled.
"Dumbledore!" he shouted, for a moment it seemed nothing was going to happen, then, spinning as if he had just flooed there, the old man materialized in the portrait.
"Severus?" Dumbledore seemed to have not expected this, but Severus was not yet convinced, this surprised could merely be contrived.
"Severus, what happened, where's Harry?"
"Dead." he spat cruelly.
The portraits lining the walls all gasped, and Snape was sure he saw the twinkle leave the old man's eyes. But the eyes were still questioning, so he elaborated, he told the whole story, all of it. By the time he was done he could see tears streaming down the elder man's face.
"Severus I-"
"DID YOU KNOW?!" he shouted, cutting of all questions, and even though he knew he could not threaten him, he pointed his wand at the portrait.
"No more lies Dumbledore, tell me the complete truth! Did you know?!" He seemed to be channeling the brat now.
"No Severus, I promise, I would never-" And from there he seemed to collapse on himself, defeated. Severus had his answer. And now he felt even worse than before, this had to be even worse than the lies or trickery. And now...
"They can win the war by themselves now Dumbledore. They won't need me to help anymore."
"Severus, where will you go?"
There was a long pause, even Severus himself really did not know where he wanted to go, well actually, he did. There was only one place that held the person he wanted. Yes, he knew where he would be going, he turned to answer the old man.
"Where I belong."
Dumbledore understood, but, this time, he would not stop the younger man. Even if he was there, he knew he couldn't. Severus had already began for the door.
"Goodbye Severus." The sadness in his voice palpable.
The door closed behind Snape and he began to walk.
"Goodbye, Albus."
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The battle was over, and all was well. The death eaters were rounded up or killed. Well, except for one. Severus Snape stood on top of the tower. The tower he had killed his master on one year previous. It was that time of night that he liked most, only a few hours after twilight, a great time to die.
He hoped that Albus would vouch for his innocence eventually, no one else was left. And now he was looking out over the ledge of the Astronomy tower, soon he would be at peace. I'm coming Lily. He turned around, took a step backwards, and let himself fall, face-first, to the ground. He was not scared, for all intents and purposes, Severus Snape had already died, seventeen years ago. His skull hit the ground with a sickeningly loud crack, and Severus Snape was no more.
The sky rumbled, and broke open, releasing torrential rains for days on end during the following weeks.
As if crying for someone.