The next day, at four o'clock in the afternoon, Lord Voldemort's associates (including Greyback, who had arrived around noon) gathered on the veranda of Malfoy Manor to watch their master do justice to Severus Snape. It was a moment of great solemnity – or would have been, if Bellatrix Lestrange hadn't been present.

"Have a Yohum, Severus?" she enquired, holding out one of Honeydukes's famous chocolate-and-cream sandwich biscuits to the Green Martian that sat bound in one of Malfoy's old armchairs.

Snape made no reply, but merely gave her a withering look and kept his lips tightly shut.

"Oh, come now," said Bellatrix. "They're your favourite kind. Dark on the outside, light on the inside: how can you resist?"

A burst of laughter from the other Death Eaters greeted this witticism. Snape shut his eyes stoically and reminded himself that this would all soon be over; the thought consoled him somewhat, although that high-pitched "Heh! Heh! Heh!" of Dolohov's was still rather difficult to take.

"Enough."

The Death Eaters sobered instantly at the cold voice of the Dark Lord. Bellatrix quickly stashed the Yohums back away and smoothed out the wrinkles in her costume as Voldemort strode out onto the veranda.

He seated himself on the chair that Malfoy had prepared for him, with Nagini curled about his ankles and the cloaked figure of Pettigrew crouching beside him, and stared at his one-time servant with a look of malicious amusement. "Well, Severus," he said, "I wonder if you know what I have planned for you?"

For answer, Snape nodded toward the torch burning in the sconce just above his head.

"Well responded," said Voldemort. "I suppose I shall have to tell you, then. Yesterday afternoon, shortly after Wormtail escorted you to your new quarters, I was pondering various means by which I might satisfactorily express my displeasure at your choices. I knew it would have to be something special; after all, it isn't every day that you discover that one of your most trusted servants has been secretly working for your greatest enemy all along."

His face twisted briefly into an enraged scowl before reassuming its more placid expression. "I considered various possibilities," he went on. "Cruciatus Ultima, Possideo, your own charming Sectumsempra – but none of them seemed quite horrific enough. And, in any event, I had no way of knowing if any of them would work on your new form.

"And then, quite unexpectedly, it came to me – fully formed into my mind, like a gift from some unknown power. What is the one thing that everyone knows Green Martians can't withstand? Why, fire, of course. And what is the most horrible type of fire known to wizardkind – and the only type, incidentally, that it is the prerogative of Dark wizards to summon and control?"

Snape's eyes widened, and Voldemort chuckled. "Yes, you weren't expecting that, were you?" he said. "When that little ginger-headed Mudblood lured you away from my service, you never dreamed what lay in store for you. Such delicious folly."

The mention of Lily Evans had a strengthening effect on Snape. With her image in his mind, he trusted himself to reply to the Dark Lord's taunts. "Yes, perhaps I am a fool," he said. "What could be more foolish, after all, than to put oneself in the way of certain death – except, perhaps, to rend oneself in pieces seeking to avert death?" He raised his hand mockingly. "As one fool to another, I salute you…" He paused for the briefest of moments to gather his courage, and then finished, "…Voldemort."

A collective gasp emerged from the assembled Death Eaters, and their master's eyes blazed with fury. "So," he hissed. "You fancy yourself a hero now, do you, Severus? Well, let us see how heroic you look when the fiends are feasting on your flesh!"

He raised his wand and made a fearsome slash in the air. A circle of violet light appeared around Malfoy's armchair, and within that circle sprang up a blazing menagerie of fiery monsters that swarmed about Snape, blackening and shrivelling his body wherever they alighted.

The Death Eaters cackled with delight – all but Pettigrew. The instant he had seen the Fiendfyre, he had, without conscious volition, pulled a Sickle out of his robes and tossed it in the air; now, as he stared down at the deep, white scratch on its upturned side, the memory of the promise Snape had extracted from him flooded back into his horrified consciousness.

What followed was perhaps the proudest moment in Pettigrew's none-too-proud life. Without a moment's hesitation, he bent down, grabbed Nagini by the nearest coil, and gave her a vicious tug. With the enormous strength of his silver arm, one tug was all that was needed: all four legs broke off Voldemort's chair, the Dark Lord fell sprawling onto the floor of the veranda, and Pettigrew wrapped the furiously writhing Nagini around himself and dove for the violet circle.

Sheer bewilderment paralysed the other Death Eaters; none of them could imagine what their comrade might be up to. Voldemort, however, saw all too well what was going on, and, with a sudden surge of fear, he raised his wand hand to stop Pettigrew in his tracks. Only then did he realise that his wand had fallen out of his hand when he hit the ground; he looked around frantically, and was just in time to see it skitter off the edge of the veranda and drop onto the lawn below.

"My wand!" he shouted.

Rodolphus was galvanised. "Lestrange fetch!" he bellowed; leaping off the veranda with an earth-shaking thud, he picked up the delicate rod and tossed it to his master. Or at least he tried to, but the superhuman strength that had accompanied his resurrection betrayed him; instead of making a gentle arc in the air and landing at Voldemort's side, the wand soared over the roof of Malfoy Manor and out of sight (although the startled peacock cries that greeted the Death Eaters' ears suggested that it had landed somewhere in the front yard).

"Oops," said Rodolphus.

Bellatrix shot her husband a glare that could have dissolved limestone. "Here, My Lord!" she said. "Use mine!"

Voldemort took the walnut wand and raised it; then he lowered it again, and sighed. "No," he said. "It is too late."

And it was. In the half-minute that it had taken Rodolphus to fail to retrieve his master's wand, Pettigrew had reached the violet circle and thrust himself and Nagini into it. The Fiendfyre was delighted to have some new food within its reach, and it fell upon man and snake with dispatch; by the time Voldemort was in a position to cast a spell, his sixth Horcrux could no longer be saved.

As the cursed flames raged around them, Snape and Pettigrew gazed into each other's eyes. Never before in their lives had they been on the same side: when Pettigrew had been a Marauder, Snape had been his friends' favourite victim; when Pettigrew had turned to the Dark, the consequences of that very betrayal had caused Snape to defect to the Light. Yet now, in the heart of a bewitched inferno, moments away from death, these two opposing spies had found common cause.

What was left of Snape's mouth moved slowly, and a hoarse whisper emerged from his almost-melted throat. "Paid… in full, Wormtail."

Pettigrew could no longer respond, but the proud gleam in his good eye said everything that needed to be said.

When his two betrayers had both been completely consumed, Voldemort wearily raised Bellatrix's wand and flicked it spasmodically. Fiendfyre and warding spell both vanished, and all that remained to mark the scene of destruction was a pile of miscellaneous ash, mixed with the viscous, dark-green fluid that was all that remained of Severus Snape.

Alecto Carrow wrinkled her nose. "Charming," she muttered. "I can see why you lose so many house-elves, Lucius."

Neither Malfoy nor anyone else answered her. All eyes were focussed on Voldemort, who had risen to his feet and was gazing fixedly into the distance. "Five destroyed," he whispered, his voice almost shaking. "Only one remains… and that one…"

Suddenly he seemed to rouse himself, and turned to his followers. "Antonin," he said sharply, "brew a new batch of Kryptonite and bring it to me. Its colour is unimportant, but I must have it within the hour."

"Yes, My Lord," said Dolohov, and scurried off into the Manor.

"Alecto," Voldemort continued, "if you enter my private quarters, you will find a large, green-and-purple suit of enchanted armour that I have been working on for some time. Bring it here; I wish to be dressed in it."

"Yes, My Lord."

"As for the rest of you," said Voldemort, his gaze travelling slowly over Malfoy, Amycus, Greyback, and the Lestranges, "I only advise you to all bring warm cloaks. Hogwarts can be a cold place in February."