Severus Snape abruptly sat up in bed. Or rather in one swift, lightning fast and absolutely silent movement. Nothing had bothered him, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that nothing had bothered him. Besides, he felt like he had had a good sleep, and this was completely unnatural. The room was dark as always in the blind, windowless dungeons. Pulling his wand from beneath his pillow, the professor waved it in the direction of a candle on his bedside table. It lit up. This was oddly pleasant: at least his magic hadn't left him then. Above the empty place left by the Pensieve, a snake moved slightly in the darkened clock. Its forked tongue twined around the runic ten – a.m. or p.m.? Both seemed inconceivable. A parallel reality? A delirium conjured by his Master? The professor slowly raised his left arm – the Dark Mark was quiet and barely perceptible as it had been before Voldemort's return.
Salazar! Had he finally died and everyone was celebrating?
Yet, the portrait of Professor Dumbledore was quiet too, not hurrying with congratulations. The whole of Hogwarts was silent as though it had dived under water. His first lesson was at nine – DADA with the third year, then Advanced Potions with the last year. It was impossible to imagine that at least one single living soul in the castle wouldn't have noticed his absence. Yet, the girl hadn't looked for him either. His girl, who had kissed him yesterday and risked her life for him. Who had come even when she hated him and wished him dead. All right, this could be explained as well: their relationship was complicated, besides the Gryffindorian could have urgent concerns like escaping to the Order of the Phoenix or rescuing the Unkillable Boy. Would she ever come to him again?... Wrong line of thinking, Severus! The most inexplicable thing was that even a house-elf hadn't appeared with a morning cup of coffee, and the creature was supposed to wake the headmaster up with a polite knock on his door. (Yes, yes, with a knock. The Silencing Charms on his door were not a problem as house-elves had different magic from humans.) Yet, he certainly hadn't heard the usual knocking. This was a conspiracy. They had conspired to suddenly leave him alone. Him, who was eternally torn into twelve parts by working forty-eight hours a day. To catch up on his sleep. This was the end of the world.
Snape felt terrified.
Without releasing his wand, the professor got out of bed. He dreaded to think what was going on behind the door. Yet, he'd better prepare for the worst. He hesitated deciding what to put on – his Death Eater cloak or his teaching robes? And where had he thrown either of them yesterday? Having decided that the robes looked more neutral, he dressed and headed towards his classroom. Unwashed, uncombed, hungry and angry as usual. The laboratory remained in the same state as it had been last night: half-empty shelves, broken bottles and notebooks from his desk scattered around the floor. Having picked up his notes mechanically (a scientific work, after all), he put a vial of Calming Drops back onto a shelf. Perhaps he shouldn't have drunk them so often? Look, how calm it had become… Again, this idiotic humour! He opened the door to the classroom – no one. Not funny anymore. Snape couldn't remember an instance when two Houses at once hadn't appeared for his lesson. Even Potter had endured the whole six years. Insanity. The professor nervously waved his wand, removing the Silencing Charms and was immediately deafened by a motley roar, grinding and screams. Can he sleep just once?! What the hell was going on out there?!
He jerked the door open, plunged out into the corridor and immediately stepped back with the fright of a bat. Daylight, although a greyish dim one, gushed into his eyes. Wind and snow hit his face. The headmaster was so dumbfounded that he almost dropped his wand. Half of the dungeons were gone as if a giant dragon had bitten a piece of the rock along with the basement of the castle. There were no such dragons. Snape knew this for sure. He generally knew all the existing creepy creatures, starting with himself, but only one of them could have shaken Hogwarts. An unexpected Muggle curse from his slum childhood escaped the professor's distorted lips. With a convulsive gesture that had been worked out to the point of automatism, he grabbed his left forearm with his right hand. The Mark was quiet. Why?! The idea of being freed by the love of an angel was shattered by his ineradicable sarcasm. Hermione had resembled more of a little devil yesterday. No, the Dark Lord either called or killed – there was no third option. Was it not Voldemort then? But who else?!
He ran down the corridor, hoping to meet and question someone, but the former dungeons were empty. The light grew brighter and the worst suspicions crept into the professor's mind. The rumble came not from the front, but from above, yet there was something else that the headmaster had to check first. Children! He needed to turn the last corner and if there was a cliff, he could stop looking for the Slytherin common room and dormitories. Had he gone completely bananas that Lord? To waste magic blood like that?! Once around the corner, the professor stopped, holding his chest – a terrace, completely alien in the dungeons, passed along the edge between common room and prisoners' cells. It was not in favour for the latter.
Hardly believing his eyes, the professor approached the edge of the cliff. The distance was piercingly clear; the wind almost threw him off the improvised platform, but the wizard waved his wand, making the icy blast flow by. Hogwarts itself was almost invisible from here, but he could see that the whole sky was pierced by narrow black cracks – the thousand-year-old magic protection of the castle had been shaken as well as its foundation. Looking closely, Snape distinguished, against the background of the white snow, some black cloaks, several trolls and a dozen Dementors standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Most of the army was, more than likely, hidden behind the trees. However, he knew for sure: all of them were impatiently waiting for the school's protection to collapse. The blizzard subsided because it would interfere with a full-fledged attack. Raising his head, the professor noted that the skull of the Dark Mark in the sky had completely protruded from the clouds and changed its colour to black. Staring at the bleak picture, Snape was gradually calming down, down, down…
So, there was nothing mystical after all, just a natural development of events. Voldemort had attacked Hogwarts, but much earlier than he had planned. The Lord's motley army stood on the perimeter of the castle, which was already bursting at its seams. Good morning, Severus. It had begun. The dark wizard grinned in the most unpleasant way and swiftly left the wind-strewn platform, the hem of his robes billowing gloomily behind him as he dived back into the dungeons.
With a wave of his wand, Snape, without stopping, slid apart the wall covering the entrance to the Slytherin common room and went inside. It looked tolerable. Several lamps and armchairs lay on the floor and a deep crack ran along the flank wall, but in general Slytherin withheld. The room was empty; apparently the students had managed to hide somewhere. From behind an overturned table, a lone first year rushed towards the headmaster – he must have strayed from the main flock.
"Sir! Headmaster, I forgot the password and can't get through the fountain. I came back for Grouchy, I shouldn't have," a flaxen-haired boy, clutching a well-fed newt to his chest, looked ingratiatingly into Snape's eyes.
"Silence!" the professor took the kid by his shoulders and raised him slightly above the floor, levelling their faces. The boy, of course, fell quiet at once – there was no such change of power that would shake the power of Severus Snape. "What happened? Tell me chronologically," he added calmly.
"May I speak, sir?" the boy asked politely after a short pause. He was certainly uncomfortable to hang like this, but he didn't let go of his newt. Well, of course, Slytherins always knew where their interests lay.
"You may."
"We were woken before reveille. The Head Boy, Blaise Zabini, told us to get dressed and leave the castle through the fountain because You-Know-Who had attacked the school. Everyone began to gather and Amus Piff, Lurius Greensby and I ran to take a look at the Lord. Through the window at the Grand Staircase, sir. There were a lot of students already and we all saw how the castle began to fall apart. But then Professor McGonagall came and told us that we all, especially the minors, have to evacuate through secret passages in our common rooms, and that she would personally see to that. We didn't dare disobey her and went back to the dungeons. Besides, Professor McGonagall began her check with Slytherin –"
With Slytherin? Well, thanks, of course…
"– and she did the right thing," the child added judiciously, "because the next blow came to the dungeons, demolishing a huge part of them and the wall in our common room cracked. But all the students managed to get out, except for me as I had chased after Grouchy who had been frightened by the noise. The professor hadn't noticed that I wasn't there…"
So, the Slytherins were safe. For now.
"The other Houses: what did you hear about them?"
The boy took a deep breath and snuggled his newt more comfortably.
"After us, Professor McGonagall was going to check Hufflepuff Basement and Ravenclaw Tower. They were told to get out through some kind of pictures. That's all I know, sir."
"And Gryffindor Tower?" the professor asked in disbelief. "Or did they all refuse to evacuate?"
"But, sir… The Tower of Gryffindor is gone," the boy was surprised. "It was destroyed at the very beginning. I don't know if anybody managed to get out. I didn't see a single Gryffindorian on the stairs. Maybe the survivors had run to fight straight away. I don't know, sir."
Not a child, but a prize for a spy!
The professor involuntary unclenched his hands and dropped the boy, who, plopping onto the stone floor, neither released his newt nor cried: the former because he didn't want to chase after his pet again and the latter because he still needed the password.
"When… did the Gryffindor Tower collapse?" the headmaster croaked.
"Between seven in the morning and a quarter past seven, I think, sir."
Snape stared at the student for ten seconds with an unseeing gaze, then came to his senses and grabbed the boy along with his newt.
"I'm surprised, Mr Bilton, that you reached Hogwarts in the first place," he said on the way. "Knowing you, you should've either forgotten the number of the platform or chased after your pet and missed the train."
"I did, sir," the kid replied humbly. "But my father got me here on his broom! It was far more interesting! Grouchy liked it too, so it was a win-win."
Slytherins could find benefits in any situation.
"The password is 'Salazar's locket'," the headmaster uttered, opening a secret passage behind the fountain in the back of the common room.
The cobra stopped spitting a stream of water and produced its hood, flashing its emerald eyes.
"I thought it was something like that, sir," Mr Bilton sighed. "I just couldn't remember which one of Salazar's possessions should be called exactly. He had so many of them and everyone constantly mentions different ones! Thank you, sir."
"Learn the password by heart. When you return to school, you may need it again to save your life," the headmaster said sternly. "Although, you'd, most likely, nail anything."
He put Mr Bilton onto the body of the stone snake coiled in rings. The kid tightened his grip on the cobra's neck with one hand and on his newt with the other. The snake disappeared for a moment into the darkness under the fountain, taking the last Slytherin student out of the castle, then it re-emerged, looking expectantly at the headmaster. Snape shook his head and the snake turned into the fountain again. The professor knelt on its stone base and lowered his head under the icy stream pouring out of the cobra's mouth.
The girl hadn't come. Despite the fact that Voldemort stood under the castle's walls… Most likely, she had died in the collapsed tower. He had let her go back there himself… He shouldn't have had. Perhaps she was in the Hospital Wing, if it was still intact? He had to find her whatever the cost. And not only her.
Making no further stops, he left the common room, sealing its door with a couple of powerful spells, and returned to his quarters as he needed to get ready and talk to Dumbledore. The professor looked into his bedroom, but the former headmaster was absent from his portrait. Salazar and all of his lockets, where the hell was he? Biting his lips, Snape stormed around his office, collecting everything he needed. Actually, there was not much to collect – a couple of vials and three powders from behind the black screen. Hopefully, he would never need it again. The most awkward moment lay ahead, but Dumbledore had told him to give that bloody thing to Potter when the battle began. Well, it had begun and had almost finished. Yet, Potter hadn't appeared, which meant he would have to look for him. On second thoughts, that wouldn't be difficult – he'd just need to estimate the place with the most smoke. Or where the Lord was. Though, it was still unknown whether he should appear in front of Voldemort again. What the hell was going on with his Dark Mark? Was it just him or all of the Death Eaters? It certainly didn't look like the Dark Lord had died or was going to…
Having reduced all the necessary combat items and stuffed them into his pockets, Snape levitated the Sorting Hat onto his desk. The Hat opened its sleepy eyes with displeasure – during the day it always preferred to take a nap as it had done the most of this academic year starting with the missed distribution into Houses.
"Hogwarts is under attack. I need Gryffindor's sword," the headmaster summed up the situation in a nutshell.
The Hat grinned insidiously as if it were the Potions teacher itself:
"The magic word?"
"Crucio?"
Snape sank into his chair – he always knew that the bloody Hat would dish the great mission. However, Dumbledore had disappeared into Merlin-knows-where, and, according to the wise old wizard, there was no other way.
"No, closer to white magic," the Hat prompted.
"Please," the professor amended patiently, "give me the sword of Gryffindor."
The Hat looked at the headmaster incredulously: wet black hair framing his deathly pale face; icy fire in his eyes; his magic wand, inscribed with dark runes, in his hands.
"I won't," the Hat finally said. "I don't like you, Severus Snape."
The softest of all that he had ever heard about himself. The headmaster smiled with the charm of the Dark Mark.
"Do you remember Tom Riddle? He calls himself Voldemort now, and he is the darkest and most ruthless wizard of our time. He's attacking the castle as we speak. Give me the sword or it will get worse."
"'Worse'?" the Hat doubted grudgingly. "What can be worse than giving the sword of Godric Gryffindor to a Slytherin?"
"To the headmaster of Hogwarts."
"Headmasters respect customs. Call a Gryffindorian, that's the custom: the sword is given to a brave soul, the brave ones study in Gryffindor."
"Can you see a single Gryffindorian in here?" the professor asked, losing his patience.
"Call the girl, she fits," the Hat suggested.
Snape flinched, but tried not to take his eyes off the obnoxious artefact. Insanity – half of Hogwarts had been razed to the ground and he sat in the dungeons, blandishing the Sorting Hat!
"Gryffindor no longer exists," he said dully. "Their tower has collapsed. In any case, there is only one Gryffindorian to whom I can hand over the sword."
"Harry Potter," the Hat drawled thoughtfully. "He could have studied in Slytherin too."
Fear flashed in the professor's eyes.
"No, thank you," he said quickly. "Anyway, Potter is far away now. And I'm not sure that, after hearing all the news, he'd be in the right spiritual state. So, if there is any other way to knock the sword out of you, speak quickly."
The Hat either grunted or laughed:
"Not the one you are thinking of! Don't try to influence my brain – I'm made of felt. Besides, I'm not bad at reading minds myself. There is only one way: you put me on and if you fit Gryffindor, I'll give you the sword."
The professor averted his eyes in frustration:
"This is unlikely to work."
"Yes, I think you are Slytherin after all," the Hat sighed. "But there is no harm in trying. At least, you'll cease suspecting me of making a wrong choice. Gryffindor and Slytherin sometimes are not easy to differentiate. Yet, if it was so important for you to study with that girl, you could just ask. A little bit of mental effort and –"
"Slytherin has always suited me fine," Snape interrupted impatiently. "Although lately I'm more and more inclined to think that the House system should be abolished – there are too many mistakes and prejudges."
"Are you now?!" the Hat was taken aback, not immediately finding what to say. Then it added: "I'd like to see you try! This was the magical edict issued by the founders themselves –"
"So was the school's protection, but there is nothing indestructible in the world," Snape replied harshly. "You will gather dust on top of this bookcase until the end of time. The sword, now!"
The Hat snuffled in extreme indignation:
"Shameless demand for something you have no right to. Threats in order to get what you want. The surreptitious use of stupefying magic. Cowardly avoidance of a fair and unambiguous solution to the issue. And finally, gross unprincipled blackmail. Slytherin! But for the sake of preserving the Houses, I will make an exception. Go on, try to draw the sword."
Snape didn't budge an inch.
"What will happen in case of an unsuccessful attempt?" he asked calmly.
The Hat snuffled even more displeased, but, apparently, had no right not to answer.
"Your hand will be ripped off," it muttered. "So, don't try again. In fact, I'd advise against even the first time as I'm not sure you have enough courage in you."
"Uh-huh, pretty fat chance," the professor said thoughtfully. "But I need the sword. I think," he narrowed his eyes, looking at the Hat appraisingly, "I'll try to draw it with my left hand. If you bite it off, then it'll be along with Voldemort's mark, so he'll be calling you instead. At least some benefit to me, and the boy will come and draw the sword himself as the last resort."
"Slytherin!" the Hat hissed. "Looking for profit in everything. Start drawing already, Severus, and stop nagging me, you pale underground moth."
The headmaster smirked and turned the Hat upside down. To lose his left arm was the one thing missing for him to achieve total happiness today. The sword of Gryffindor. Abnormal House with abnormal artefacts. Was it, at least, the only sword in this Hat? The professor slowly dived his hand into the Sorting Hat. Would it take a bite right away or wait until he went deeper? The cold grooved hilt touched his palm. If it were not the sword but a frying pan, he'd incinerate the Hat with Fiendfyre! Holding his breath, Severus carefully drew the sword from the malevolent artefact. Why, in the name of Merlin's long johns, was the sword needed? To kill Voldemort? The Right Hand of the Dark Lord doubted it would be successful. To kill someone else? Or something? But what and why? The sword was beautiful, but quite useless for wizards. None of them used anything else but their wands for battling. Or had Gryffindorians fought with swords instead in ancient times? Quite convenient indeed as they could be used to light a fire and chop the meat… Only an idiot like Potter would guess what to do with it. Intuitively.
"Don't forget, you've promised to preserve the tradition of House distribution!" the Sorting Hat reminded him.
"I haven't promised you anything," the insolent Slytherin replied, examining the steel of the double-edged blade. "But I'll think about it," he went towards his bedroom, no longer paying attention to the Hat.
"Slytherin!" the deeply offended artefact barked after him.
"Perfect," the headmaster indifferently brushed it off and slammed the door pointedly.
The Hat chewed its felt lips thoughtfully and grinned.
"Gryffindor, damn you," it muttered. "You can't deceive me."
The professor, however, didn't hear its grumbling anymore. Returning with the sword in his hand to an empty semi-dark room, he came close to the portrait, which was finally (less than three hours after the Dark Lord had begun his attack) occupied by the grand strategist. Leaning on the precious sword, Snape glared defiantly at the wizard he had killed. Dumbledore cleared his throat. He looked dishevelled and deedful; his half-moon spectacles sparkled excitedly.
"Severus, you've appeared at last!" he exclaimed impatiently instead of a greeting. "For Merlin's sake, where have you been? I'm straight from the Order of the Phoenix; we were discussing what to do in this difficult situation. Of course, most will depend on Harry… Have you retrieved the sword yet?"
Raising an eyebrow, the headmaster silently lifted the ancient blade, demonstrating the obvious.
"That's something," Dumbledore sighed. "Now listen carefully, you need to go –"
"I need?" Snape repeated in his annoying manner, clearly and very, very quietly.
Dumbledore, however, had a keen sense of hearing and an even more subtle psychological instinct, so he immediately frowned:
"Severus, I will tell you everything later. Now is not the right moment to go into details and argue. We don't have much time –"
"I have plenty of it," the professor replied sharply. "Yes, I obtained another incomprehensible item of unclear purpose. I can't remember which one in a row. Yet, I'd like to know why I need it. I'd prefer not to act blindly from now on as it affects the quality of my work. It's no longer just about trust, Albus, but about more serious things."
Dumbledore adjusted his spectacles impatiently but had to enter into the discussion.
"If only you knew how you complicate everything with your vain inquiries!" he sighed sadly. "Especially today. Just consider for yourself, how can I tell you something when only yesterday Voldemort was looking through your thoughts like an open book?"
"That's exactly the reason," hissed Snape, turning pale. "Because you didn't tell me that Potter would need my Pensieve to fulfil your plan. Because you didn't say what in my memory could alert the Dark Lord. You keep quiet even now, although I'm sure you know what the matter was. The same was with the Elder Wand. I can't stop thinking that if I hadn't been mistaken by the choice of memories yesterday, the Dark Lord would have been unaware of the threat for a longer time."
"You start blaming yourself again, Severus, but this won't help anyone," said Dumbledore. "We must act! I swear that the sword is not preparing a dangerous surprise for you. You can trust me."
"Trust you?" the professor smirked sickly. "I trusted you once. Just like I did yesterday, and now –"
"What's the matter with you today?" Dumbledore interrupted him. "Is it because of yesterday's visit to the Lord? Pull yourself together! We've been talking about the same thing for twenty years. You've already killed me, what more do you want?"
"What's the use of your death to me?" Snape couldn't restrain himself. "This was my fault, but you are also the one to blame! You promised me to protect them, to protect Lily. Why was her fate decided by that brainless James? Why didn't you hide them here, at Hogwarts? Why didn't you become the Secret Keeper yourself?"
"Do you suppose, Severus, I never asked myself these questions?" the portrait responded softly and sadly. "Sometimes I persuaded myself that I had been careful, sometimes I admitted that I had been cowardly. Yet, what's the point for you in torturing an old, dead man now? It's easy to list other people's mistakes! All I can advise you is to take mine as an example. I'll be happy if you manage to protect Miss Granger. It'll put some sense into my mistakes and your burden will become a bit lighter –"
"It won't!" snapped the professor, swinging the sword dangerously. "Because we only multiply our mistakes! I'm squeezing the truth out of you drop by drop when I need all of it right now. Speak! I'm not going to return to the Lord, he no longer calls me. So?"
The portrait was dejectedly silent and clearly didn't agree. Snape's face distorted with genuine hatred as he grabbed the hilt of the sword more comfortably.
"Either you tell me now what this sword is for, or I'll cut your portrait with it!" he warned grimly. "I'll kill you for the second time. This sword is spellcast, so, most likely, you won't be able to appear at any portrait after this."
Dumbledore shook his head sadly, but said nothing, patiently looking at Snape, who slowly and desperately lowered the sword.
"Do you understand there, on the canvas, what is happening here, in reality?" he asked quietly. "Do you know that a large part of the school has been destroyed? That Gryffindor Tower has collapsed? That Hermione is dead?!"
Dumbledore shuddered and looked at him with genuine horror.
"Ah, that's what the matter is," the old wizard whispered sympathetically. "Look, Severus… Of course, I didn't know any of this. I didn't have time to go around the portraits –"
A sharp cry, expressing the same degree of horror, didn't allow him to finish. Snape turned, protecting the portrait with the sword as his wand was still in his pocket. Yet, he saw no one, only a chair next to his bed tipping over for no reason. In the next second, someone invisible threw themselves at the professor.
"I'm not dead! No, no, no!" a hot stream of air burned his face. "What's happened to Hogwarts? And to our tower?"
From the surprise and the fact that his unexpected guest had pounced on him with a running start, Severus recoiled against the wall, and the smiling portrait of Dumbledore fell to the floor.
"Hermione! The sword!" having finally freed his hand, he threw the difficultly-obtained relic of Godric Gryffindor as far as he could, groped for the invisible hood and jerked it from the girl's dishevelled head.
"Oh, sorry, I forgot," said Hermione, hurriedly throwing off the Invisibility Cloak. "Forgive me, Professor, I… disobeyed you yet again. I didn't know it'd turn out this way. I was scared, so I stayed. I woke up when you entered the room with the sword but was afraid to move as I thought you'd be angry. What's happened to Hogwarts? Has You-Know, I mean Voldemort, started his attack? What about Harry? Why are you looking at me like that? Please, don't be angry with me. Not now…"
White as death, he continued to cup her face with his hands, saying nothing and not answering a single question. Legilimency again? Hermione sighed – 'Okay, have a look.' This could hardly surprise her… Yet, Severus had found another way to astound her. He buried his nose in her hair, which still smelled of snow, smoke and blood, and picked her up in his arms in one swift, rapid move.
"Severus, what are you doing?!" Hermione was really scared.
First of all, it was quite high and he kept silent. Second, they were not alone as Dumbledore still occupied his portrait. One thing was reassuring – he'd most definitely not throw her out of a window for her-yet-another invasion as there were no windows in his room.
However, nothing terrible happened. The professor sat down on the edge of his bed, clutching his filthy precious to his chest with a kind of bestial despair, although she didn't make the slightest attempt to escape. He didn't even kiss her, just simply and silently held her in his arms. Wow… His mood swings were so severe. Hermione was more frightened than pleased. Wondering whether he was angry or not, the girl took a deep breath and tried to get more comfortable, but it was impossible to break free from Snape. Having finally released one hand, she stroked her wizard on his pale cheek.
"Why are you wet? Is it raining again?" she asked in the most neutral tone. She really wanted to return to the question of Hogwarts but felt that it wasn't the time.
Oddly enough, Snape replied, and quite logically.
"I thought I'd lost you," he looked at her.
Hermione believed she'd remember this moment to the end of her life: he wasn't mocking or hissing! And how could the Dark Lord himself withstand the professor's gaze without incinerating?
"For the second time within the last twenty-four hours," Snape added almost evenly. "There must be no third time."
"All right, sir," said Hermione, confused.
Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat delicately. Without taking his eyes off Hermione, the current headmaster waved his wand, returning the portrait to its place.
"So, Voldemort began his attack around seven in the morning," Snape continued, wasting no more time. Reporting to the former headmaster, he spoke in a calm, businesslike tone, but continued to look at Hermione, who grew gloomier and gloomier at his speech and pressed herself closer and closer against him. "With the first blow the Dark Lord fractured the castle's protection and severely damaged the school itself. The Gryffindor Tower, as I said, collapsed. Yet, there was other destruction as well: a large part of the dungeons was torn out. The Muggle captives died immediately, I suppose. Children were evacuated from the castle due to Minerva's efforts. Teachers and those who are of age are trying to fight. At the moment there is a temporary lull. Voldemort has gathered his army in the Forbidden Forest, right in front of the beginning of the anti-apparition barrier, cutting us off from the Order of the Phoenix. Currently, the Lord is undermining the remnants of the protective charms, while individual squads of Death Eaters, along with trolls, giants and Dementors, seep through the resulting cracks. I believe I saw a couple of dragons had squeezed through too. Yet, the bulk of his army is waiting for the protective barrier to be completely removed. As you understand, it will happen within two hours, if we do nothing, and within two and a half, if we do our best withholding him. That's it."
The painted Dumbledore nodded intently, evaluating what he had just heard. Hermione didn't really understand what there was to evaluate: Voldemort had come and if Harry didn't kill him, as intended by the prophecy, Hogwarts, and all of them, would be reduced to dust.
"Severus, have you taken any action to protect the castle?" the former headmaster asked warily.
"No, but I would very much like to. You forbade me to act without contacting you, but we are running out of time."
"Good…" the old wizard muttered even more thoughtfully. "No need to rush, listen to me carefully. We have about ten minutes, I would think. Try to remember, how many people saw you in the castle today?"
The professor frowned, and Hermione, who was sitting on his lap, noticed a tiny, thin scar on his temple. A remnant of the recent Sectumsempra.
"Only Hermione and one of the students saw me – I helped him escape through a secret passage," said Snape. "No one has been looking for me since morning. I think everyone is sure that I disapparated to the Lord yesterday and haven't returned since. This wouldn't be surprising, given the morning attack. Come to think of it, no one saw us… me, walking back to Hogwarts last night."
"Excellent," brightened Dumbledore. "Here's what we'll do: let's make it look like you've broken into school along with the Death Eaters through a crack in the defences as you are unlikely to leave Hogwarts unnoticed. However, don't join the battle on either side – we don't have time for that. Do you know where Voldemort might be right now?"
"At the Shrieking Shack, most likely," Snape shrugged. "When he first considered the option of attacking Hogwarts, he assumed to lead his army from there. The Dark Lord doesn't like fresh air and the daylight is unpleasant to him. The Shack is located close to the castle, connected to its territory by an underground passage and doesn't have the apparition restriction –"
"Yes, yes," Dumbledore nodded knowingly, "I'd choose this place too. Anyway, you must return to Voldemort as soon as possible and stay close to him."
"And?" Snape asked after a pause, feeling Hermione flinch in his arms.
"And that's all."
The professor looked at the portrait with great doubt:
"What's the point in this now? I don't understand –"
"There is no point in this!" Hermione blurted out, grabbing his robes convulsively. "Professor Dumbledore, I'm sorry to interrupt, but you just don't know all the details! The Dark Lord no longer trusts Sev… Professor Snape. For a very good reason related to the assignment you gave Harry, Ron and me."
"Wait, Hermione," Snape winced, freeing from her fist a strand of his hair, which she had gripped along with a fold of his robes. "It's not about whether the Lord trusts me, but about whether I'll be able to regain his trust and fulfil my task."
"To regain what? To fulfil what?!" gasped Hermione, turning to Dumbledore. "Professor, I'm sorry, but it won't work! You-Know-Who won't even listen to Severus! He'll simply curse him with Sectum–"
"Silencio, Hermione!"
What a boorish habit of interspersing a conversation with spells! Especially knowing that until he let go of her, she'd not be able to withdraw her wand! Hermione slapped the professor's shoulder out of despair, but on the second swing Snape grabbed her hand and prudently held on to it.
"What about the school?" he asked the portrait. "Being with Voldemort, I won't be able to participate in the defence of the castle… And you know better than I that Hogwarts' protective charms are tied to the headmaster."
"Yes, Severus, I do," agreed Professor Dumbledore. "I've thought it through; in the conditions of war, a new headmaster of Hogwarts can be chosen by the defenders of the castle. You just need to leave all the authority to Professor McGonagall. I believe Minerva will be the best fit. Of course, this must be done without arousing any suspicion. Come up with something – everyone at school should get the feeling that you left the castle and resigned from your duties."
"All right, this won't be difficult, I suppose," Snape smirked wryly. "Yet, with all due respect to Professor McGonagall, I think I'd do better. I know the Lord and his habits. I'm a dark wizard and have better combat skills."
Hermione blinked. A Slytherin who was eager to fight? This was strange. Though, when choosing between the defence of Hogwarts and the Dark Lord, who would have decided otherwise?
"No need to list all of your virtues to me, I remember them pretty well," smiled Dumbledore. "That is why I asked you not to join the fight as Hogwarts might not let you go. However, the work that I entrust you is much more important, regardless of whether our castle falls or withstands. After all, Hogwarts is just a school," he shook his head sadly. "Its fate cannot mean complete failure and the end of the war. Now the moment has come when surrender of the castle to the Dark Lord will not change anything. If the fight for Hogwarts as a distraction doesn't bear fruit and Harry doesn't fulfil his task, the school can be surrendered by evening."
There was a pause. Hermione's eyes widened as too the professor's.
"To surrender… Hogwarts?" Snape asked, mortified.
Hermione thought that such a sincere bewilderment and such an excruciating perplexity had never been, and never would be, seen again on the face of the terrifying professor. The moment passed and Snape snapped again:
"Why should I surrender Hogwarts to Voldemort?! What are we going to do without it and what am I going to do with the children? Most of them are sitting in basements in Hogsmeade, waiting for the end… of all this. Do you suggest sending them home, where they'll remain without the protection of the castle? Without our protection? No… I just can't do it –"
Dumbledore tried to say something, but the professor slightly raised his voice, finishing even more abruptly:
"– and not only because I don't want to. You know perfectly well that those who stayed to defend the school will fight for it to the death!"
Hermione nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. The professor stroked the girl's head and became even gloomier. There was a heavy silence.
"I was talking about the very last resort," Dumbledore said carefully. "Now you understand how important this day is for us. If we want to save as many lives as possible along with the school… Well, I have no doubts that Miss Granger and her friends will do their upmost to fulfil the task entrusted to them. And you, Severus, will play your part."
Hermione nodded, snuffled and buried her tear-stained face into the professor's robes.
"No need to mention this, Headmaster," Snape uttered irritably. "I'll do as you say. Except for the surrender of the castle – I can't promise you that. Yet, even with the best of circumstances, I still don't understand your plan completely. If I should join the other side, what about the sword? Or does it not matter who will deliver it to Potter?"
"It matters. If the Dark Lord guesses our plans, he will want to gain the sword. Or, at least, the Sorting Hat. Therefore, it's crucially important that the sword stays in the hands of a powerful and experienced wizard and Harry receives it at the last moment."
"Already at Voldemort's? So, I should take this item straight to the Shack?"
"Yes, Severus," said Professor Dumbledore. "This is one of the reasons why you should return to the Lord. Not to mention the fact that we need to know his immediate plans. Don't worry too much about the sword – nothing irreparable will happen even if it falls into Voldemort's hands. The sword itself is unnecessary for him. Yet, the loss of the sword will significantly complicate our main task, so try not to get caught," without looking at his interlocutor, Dumbledore carefully straightened the folds of his elegant golden-red robes. "Compared to Harry, you have a better chance of escape if Tom guesses that you, despite belonging to Slytherin, took the sword."
"However, what the sword is for, you won't tell me, will you?"
Professor Dumbledore shook his head. Now he was staring at his successor without taking his eyes of him, and Snape studied him very intently back.
"Severus, you must understand that even the Pensieve can't guarantee that you'll be able to hide specific, vivid images from Voldemort, especially very recent ones. You can hardly erase your memory completely – in this case, you won't be able to correctly orientate yourself to the situation. Besides, Voldemort would, most likely, understand that something was wrong. I'm sure he'll check you over thoroughly when you come to him."
"Yes, there is no doubt about that." Hermione felt the professor flinch, although his voice remained calm. "In any case, Potter and I will have very little time to orient ourselves on the spot. If only he was a Legilimens… Never mind. Does he, at least, know that I have to hand him the sword?"
"Have you lost your mind?" Dumbledore was horrified. "If Voldemort decides to penetrate the boy's mind, – as I presume he did last night, – the last thing we need is Tom seeing that you have the sword. As a last resort, there always remains a chance that at least you will have time to use it!"
"And how should I use it?" Snape asked patiently, concentrating to grasp Dumbledore's true thoughts.
"We're going in circles and running out of time," the portrait reminded nervously. "I've already told you, Severus –"
The professor buried his face onto Hermione's shoulder. The girl thought she felt him laughing inaudibly, but she was probably wrong as it'd be inappropriate in general and very uncharacteristic for him personally. Nevertheless, she could not say with certainty.
"Yes, Headmaster," Snape looked up, his expression was extremely serious.
He carefully put Hermione on her feet and glanced gloomily at the portrait:
"I haven't understood much yet again, Professor Dumbledore, and therefore I cannot vouch for the result. However, I'll try very hard, firstly, to surpass the Dark Lord in his utmost efforts to break my Occlumency. Secondly, to discreetly hand a four-foot long sword to Potter in front of Voldemort. I'm not confusing anything, am I? These days, I have to learn your assignments by heart like runes."
"No, Severus, you memorised everything perfectly, as always," the portrait smiled. "I believe we can make your task a little easier. You should use the Pensieve… Could you disenchant Miss Granger, please? My wand is powerless here."
"Oh, yes!" Snape suddenly recollected. "I was wondering why she's so quiet."
He removed the Silencing Charm, but Hermione did not speak as she had already started to gnaw her wand and didn't want to interrupt herself.
"Miss Granger?" Professor Dumbledore encouraged her.
"Do you love me?" Hermione asked very quietly, addressing her left sneaker.
"What?" both headmasters asked, not because they were surprised, but because even a bat would not have heard her.
Taking a step back, Hermione raised her wand. The headmasters exchanged their glances – was the girl having a hysterical breakdown? Why?
"Do. You. Love. Me?" Hermione repeated hoarsely, not taking her eyes off Professor Snape. He had always had excellent reflexes. Besides, right now, he was really annoyed and in a great hurry. The time was clearly inappropriate for such a question, not to mention the presence of Dumbledore, who impatiently tapped the frame of his portrait, although he went quiet straight after that. So what? What if both of them die in today's battle? What if she dies… right now?
Narrowing his eyes, the professor looked at her and smirked rather nastily – no doubt he had already understood what the matter was.
"Of course, I do. You can lower your wand, Hermione," the smirk disappeared from his face, and the girl felt very ashamed.
Hastily putting her wand down, she closed her eyes and gabbled:
"Severus, it's true – we took your Pensieve. We didn't know that you needed it more than us. It's in the Room of Requirement… If it still exists."
"I won't kill you for this, if you love me back," a calm voice replied.
He was threatening her for the third time already – what the hell? Hermione nodded hurriedly and opened her eyes. Snape hadn't even withdrawn his wand and didn't seem particularly surprised.
"All right, the Pensieve is settled. It'll take me a couple of minutes to reach the Lord after that," the professor turned back to the portrait.
It looked like he was offended a little bit after all.
"I have only one question left: what shall I do if Potter doesn't come to Voldemort?" Snape queried busily, collecting the sword from the floor.
"Unlikely," Professor Dumbledore reassured him as he fished his famous spectacles from the bottom edge of the gilded frame. "Yet, if this happens, try to leave Voldemort under any pretext and start looking for the boy. Don't wait longer than an hour or we'll lose precious time. And make sure that until then no one knows whose side you are on."
"Only Miss Granger knows," the professor grinned slyly. "Should I paralyse and leave her here, Headmaster? She's not good at Occlumency and, due to her closeness to Potter, she might end up near the Dark Lord. Or shall I just erase her memory? Completely, just in case."
Hermione gasped indignantly – and he called this love?! Her brown eyes turned almost as black as Snape's. Ability to speak disappeared on its own accord, and the girl glared at Professor Dumbledore with impotent entreaty as begging the Horror of the Dungeons for mercy was pointless. Without looking at her, Snape silently reduced the sword of Gryffindor, wrapped it in a crumpled handkerchief and put it in the pocket of his robes. His face was impenetrable.
"No, Severus, we are not going to do either of these," the portrait replied gently. "Miss Granger is a very sensible girl. And a good witch, thanks, in a large part, to you. She'll, of course, do her best not to compromise you in front of the Dark Lord, but she has her own task. Not as dangerous as yours, but it requires complete health and a sound memory."
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione breathed, deeply offended.
Snape put on a sour face – Gryffindorians standing up for each other as usual.
"Miss Granger, continue doing what you started and try to finish it as soon as possible," the old wizard smiled at her. "And you, Severus, hand the sword to Harry. And remember, you need to have a tête-à-tête with the boy. That's the most important."
"I remember," the professor nodded irritably. "Yet, since he's under the protection of the Order of the Phoenix and doesn't even know that I have to deliver him the sword, it'll be a little difficult for me to make my way through to him. It'll be hard to prove that I come in peace. Not to mention that I'll lose time, being next to the Lord, and the Order will be drawn into battle by then. You've just visited them – who should I look for and where?"
"Severus," the former headmaster said very, very gently. Most likely, he was extremely glad that he had already died. "You will only have to look for Harry and Harry alone. He has long been at Hogwarts and surely won't leave it today. Am I right, Miss Granger?"
"Yes," Hermione said confidentially to her right sneaker. "Harry has been here since the beginning of the academic year. He'll either be himself or… oh, Great Merlin… or disguised as Longbottom. The real Neville is in the Order of the Phoenix with his grandmother. Severus, don't forget that you love me."
Her sneaker said nothing and neither did Professor Snape. Yet, the latter looked with contempt at the girl and at the portrait of the grey-haired old man.
"I'm going to Voldemort," he snarled instead of saying goodbye, picked up his Death Eater cloak from the floor and slammed the door behind him.
Hermione remained standing in the middle of the room at a loss. Professor Dumbledore silently looked at her, his spectacles flashing, and nodded his wise head towards the door. The girl rushed after the Potions Master. The wizard in the portrait became very, very sad and it was immediately noticeable that he had been painted in extreme old age. The bedroom was still as quiet as if it had been under water, only candles crackled. Professor Dumbledore sat down exhaustedly into his armchair. It seemed that he brushed a couple of tears from beneath his cheerful spectacles, but it was impossible to say for sure as no one was looking at the portrait.
Sprinting down the corridor, Hermione instantly forgot about the portrait. For some time now, there was no need to worry about the former headmaster as he, at least, didn't run anywhere, but sat decorously in his gilded frame. The current headmaster, on the contrary, gave her quite a chase. Hermione managed to catch up with him only thanks to the fact that the professor had paused a little on his way to the stairs casting a Petrificus Totalus at a student dashing towards him with his wand at the ready. Justin Finch-Fletchley had apparently tried to finish off the hated bastard, but unsuccessfully: the headmaster had reversed the boy's spell back at him with such fury that Justin had not only been paralyzed, but also thrown against the wall. A look of pure horror lingered on the brave Hufflepuffian's face. Dumbledore's Army was full of daredevils for sure! Yet, Hermione didn't dare to disenchant her classmate: there was no time for explanations; she'd have to return for him. She continued to run, squinting from the unaccustomed daylight and jumping over stone debris. Poor Hogwarts! It was so badly injured already, and it was just the beginning! The noise of the battle had moved away somewhere, sort of like towards the Ravenclaw Tower, but it was so far that it was difficult to say for sure. Gasping for breath, Hermione ran up the first steps and clung to the elusive wing of a bat. The bat twitched angrily and tried to break free.
"Professor, wait, please… I need to tell you something –"
"I can't wait, Miss Granger. I'm in a hurry to see the Dark Lord."
For Merlin's sake! He's flipped out yet again! And, as always, at the wrong time. Was it because he was regrouping himself to see Voldemort? Actually, he never liked to appear in front of her as a Death Eater…
One, two, three…
"Your Lord can wait. It's not like he's going anywhere, is he? It's important, it's about –"
Snape jerked again, trying to free himself.
"You're preventing me from walking and you're tearing my cloak. I can hardly go to my Master, looking like Potter after Quidditch," the professor finally glanced at her, but without a shadow of fondness. "Talking of Potter, if I were you, I'd rather look for him and generally stay close to Gryffindorians. That would be better for you."
Four, five…
"I know it would, but I want to be with you," Hermione said quietly.
"Decided to change sides before it's too late, have you?"
Six, seven… Hermione wished she could hit him with something heavy, but, sadly, he was irreplaceable.
"Why are you angry with me?" she could not restrain herself. "We were only following Professor Dumbledore's instructions! Just like you! You didn't tell me anything either! Do you know how much I suffered?"
"I do!" he winced. "You were rearranging potions on my shelves, feeling like the last Muggle-born on Earth."
Eight, nine… Oh, here we go! He'd recall all of her wrongdoings now – the way to the seventh floor would give him more than enough time! Hermione no longer had any doubts – the professor had noticed everything, even the most trifling little things. So, she'd certainly have to listen about his burns, his stolen wand, disenchanted spells on his doors, the runes and, of course, his changed Patronus… Merlin, let the Pensieve not be damaged, or he'd be on her back forever!
"Well, it's not like I'm mad at you for the thorns, grey robes, night Dementors –"
"The murder of Professor Dumbledore," Snape joined in. "And I was so thrilled feeding you to Carrow, Miss Granger."
Ten! Harsh. And unfair. How could she have foreseen Sectumsempra? Besides, he'd have done the same in her place. If not worse. Or what was allowed to Slytherin wasn't allowed to Gryffindor?
"But… But we didn't know that you needed the Pensieve. We thought you were open with the Lord…"
Snape simply harrumphed. Hermione bit her lip in frustration. Why was he so angry? Surely he understood that this was absurd!
"Are you scared?" she suddenly realised.
A stupid question!
"No, I'm suicidal," he replied without turning to her.
In close tandem they reached the ground floor, which was as deserted as the dungeons, but less destroyed. At least the area of the Grand Staircase. All the defenders were probably already gathered on top of the towers or on the border of the anti-apparition barrier, patching up the protection and trying to hold back all the scum creeping through the cracks. And she was courting the headmaster, who was being sarcastic and obstinate as if nothing was happening! Perfect timing!
"In case you haven't noticed, the world is falling apart!" reminded Hermione.
"Not the world, just a school, as Professor Dumbledore said. Although for you, for a bookworm, it's probably the same."
"I don't know what's happened to my friends! Have no idea where to look for Harry! Maybe he and Ron died in our tower!"
"I doubt that. Mr Weasley is far too thick-skulled to be killed by a tower. As for Potter, the Dark Lord himself has difficulty killing him. Miss Granger, don't bother playing on my sympathy, it's a foreign language to me."
How could he be such an insensitive beast? Second floor…
"Don't…don't you care about Harry?"
"Why would I? He's just a pawn."
Bastard! She was in love with a bastard. And she couldn't hate him – check and mate.
"Shouldn't he have a duel with the Lord and win?!"
"Where did you get this Gryffindor nonsense from, Miss Granger?" he asked in an arctic-cold mocking tone.
Hermione flushed and punched his shoulder.
"This is the prophecy! And Harry must be alive to fulfil it. Don't pretend you don't know it! It said that neither Harry nor Voldemort can live while the other survives."
"Gryffindor!" Snape began swearing again. "In what part of the prophecy was a duel mentioned?!"
Indeed, it wasn't mentioned anywhere. Yet, she had always taken it for granted…
"Slytherin!" Hermione mimicked his tone. "Is there any other way to 'die at the hand of the other' without having a duel? How are we going to win then?!"
"No idea. You should ask Professor Dumbledore. He tells me only part of the truth as he does to you."
They reached the fifth floor, but still hadn't met anyone. In the twilight of the stairwells, only the echo of their voices was heard. One might have thought that the place was abandoned not an hour, but a century ago, if it wasn't for the items scattered around the floor: a lesson plan, a pen, a remembrall, even a Christmas card, although Christmas had been called off. It was extremely quiet. Even the portraits were unoccupied, giving the illusion that the whole of Hogwarts had died.
"Professor, tell me honestly," Hermione began in an undertone – it seemed that in this silence one should speak only in a whisper, "do you really think that Harry doesn't have a chance?"
She had firmly accustomed herself to the idea that some virtue of white magic, or Harry's innate destiny or some mystical secret enclosed in his lightning bolt scar would help her dear friend to overcome evil. Being a witch, it was hard not to believe in miracles.
However, the professor only impatiently shook his dishevelled locks and asked her sharply:
"Have you mastered Fiendfyre, Miss Granger?"
"What? You know that I haven't, sir… But I can't tell you about that incident in the Forbidden Forest, because Professor Dumbledore –"
"You haven't mastered that spell because it's not easy to do at seventeen –"
"Eighteen, sir. Since September."
"All the same," he said in such a tone that it became clear – he had mastered it much, much earlier. "There's your answer. Mr Potter is a much more mediocre wizard than you are. And Voldemort is quite good not only in that spell, but at many, many others. If I, or Professor Dumbledore, or any other wizard could make Mr Potter a worthy adversary to Voldemort, we would put all our efforts into it. Yet, I'm afraid even Voldemort himself would fail at this task. The outcome of this duel, if we can call it a duel, is known in advance. For your comfort, I can say that if the prophecy was made about me personally, I'd last not much longer."
A warped staircase reared up in their way to the sixth floor and the professor had to pause, pacifying it with the magic of the headmaster. Gripping the railing, Hermione struggled to catch her breath.
"Voldemort's magic is something quite extraordinary," Snape resumed his intimidation, his voice full of his usual admiration for all sorts of abominations. "This is such an evil that no one else would dare explore it and which probably wouldn't obey anyone else. It cannot be explained, Miss Granger, it must be seen. This is something beyond the laws of ordinary magic. If it was truly possible to barter away a soul for some special gain, the Dark Lord, I believe, would do it without any hesitation and more than once."
Hermione flinched, having a feeling as though Severus could read her mind without using Legilimency.
"Has it ever occurred to you to do the same, sir?" she asked cautiously as they continued to climb the stairs.
Well really, why had everyone presumed that he had no idea about Horcruxes? With his thirst for experiments and his closeness to the Dark Lord…
"How do you mean?"
"Well… you know a lot of… dark magic."
"Dark magic is one thing, and Voldemort is something beyond the usual understanding of darkness. Hermione, I can't explain to you what I hardly understand myself. You've seen Voldemort, haven't you? Do I resemble him much?"
Looking him in the eye, Hermione shook her head confidently. It dawned on her that the professor hadn't admired Voldemort at all. He was truly afraid of him. Perhaps, even more than everyone else was. To him the Dark Lord was not just the curse of the wizarding world, but something personal. Physical. Unlike her or Harry, he had no illusions and knew what exactly there was to fear.
"None of us," this time by 'us' the headmaster apparently meant the Death Eaters (he was a double agent after all), "knows why he's immortal. Hermione, you must stay as far away as possible from the Dark Lord. I'm not saying this to scare you, I understand that Gryffindor is destiny. Join the battle for Hogwarts, if you please, help others to buy some time for Potter – you are ready for that. But don't try to assist him fighting Voldemort."
"But you will!" Hermione objected.
Snape replied with a mocking, completely scathing look. Well, sure, she was no match for him. Yet, the girl chose not to promise him anything. Fortunately, they had reached their destination by then.
"It's here," Hermione said softly.
Insanity! She had brought Snape to the Room of Requirement on her own accord!
"Open it then. I don't know exactly where you hid it."
"In the place where everything is hidden, of course," the girl shrugged and walked three times along the blank wall picturing the room's outlines. Hopefully, no one was inside. Except for Spooky, but he didn't count. Hermione opened the materialized door, revealing a path to the dump of hidden things. The Half-Blood Prince's textbook rested somewhere in its depth too, even Harry would probably not be able to find it in there now. The Pensieve, however, didn't require to be looked for. They literally stumbled over it.
"Very well hidden," Snape said with a smirk.
As if, smarty pants, you had hidden it better yourself and three kids hadn't managed to steal it from you! Occlumency! Just in case.
The professor, however, wasn't interested in her thoughts as he was concerned about getting rid of his own. He kneeled next to the Pensieve right there, in front of the door. Hermione propped the door with her back to keep on the safe side.
"You can go, Miss Granger. I give you permission not to hide with me anymore."
"I'll wait," the girl said seriously. "I need to tell you something. After the Pensieve."
He shrugged, dangling his tousled hair over the basin, and waved his wand. A silvery thread stretched from his temple towards the Pensieve. What horrors are you hiding in your memory, Severus? Perhaps you don't even want to put them back? Hermione watched the professor with incomprehensible angst – in a moment he'd finish and leave. While they stayed close to each other everything was bearable, no matter how angry, sarcastic or smartarsey he was… But what would be after he left? In her heart, she didn't agree with Professor Dumbledore, who deliberately had sent the most powerful wizard among them out of Hogwarts in anticipation of Voldemort smashing the ancient protective charms of the castle. She felt that for her personally it would be much more difficult and scarier without Severus Snape than with him… Besides, a sense of foreboding tormented her. A very, very grim one. Despite the fact that she had a straight 'Troll' in Divination.
"Let's meet somewhere right away when it's over?... No matter how it ends. Otherwise I'll go crazy wondering whether you are okay or not. At the entrance of the Astronomy Tower, for example. It's a good landmark."
He nodded without turning to her, concentrated on the Pensieve:
"Or in its place…" with worked-to-automatism movements, his wand was navigating speedily through the pieces of fog in the marble basin. To Hermione all this turbidity seemed homogeneous – just a mist without a single image. Snape returned what was needed back into his head. After having a thought, he added something else. Was it over? It had taken him no longer than a couple of minutes. Conjuring a phial, the professor collected the remainder and handed it to Hermione. Reasonable. He could hardly bring it to Voldemort.
"Take it for now. I'll have it back later," and added for some reason: "There is nothing terrible in there. Mostly about you."
Why had he said that? It's not like she was going to watch his memories! Even if they were about her… Was he planning to return at all?! What are you doing, Severus?!
Holding her tears back, Hermione squeezed the phial convulsively and prepared to say something, but the headmaster was already opening the door.
"Come, come, Miss Granger, or ours will win without our help."
From the Room of Requirement they had to go in different directions: he down towards the exit and she up to the towers with the defenders.
"I… I wanted to explain about the sword," Hermione recollected.
"No need," Snape interrupted her. "If we don't trust Professor Dumbledore, we'll get ourselves completely confused."
How good it was that he wasn't on Voldemort's side. The Dark Lord could only dream of such devotion.
"Yes, yes, I get it! I just wanted to say… you guessed it correctly there, next to the portrait. Any container of magic can be destroyed with that sword. Except for You-Know-Who, of course. Any thing in general. Do you understand?"
He nodded.
"It's not a very big memory? Can you hide it?"
"The memory that the sword of Gryffindor is capable of destroying any magical substance? I think, I can," he looked at her thoughtfully. "Show me one more time before we part."
Show what? Oh! Without much hope, Hermione hurriedly drew a Fiendfyre pattern with her wand. A barely noticeable glow appeared on the tip of her wand, but nothing more. The professor winced:
"All right, hopefully, you won't need it… Imperio!"
Hermione blocked the curse and immediately had an idea of her own. Something that would give both of them a much stronger motivation than a control spell.
"Good enough," the professor said quickly. The highest praise! He lowered his wand and, taking a step towards Hermione, gently ran his hand up her arm.
Had he thought the same thing? Apparently not… In the next moment he suddenly pushed the girl away abruptly and bounced off to the opposite wall.
"Avada –" the pause was much longer than required.
Hermione was surprised: this was the sharpest change in his mood she had ever seen, but the tip of the magic wand aimed at her had already flashed with bright green so the girl had no choice but to quickly jump aside.
"– Kedavra!" finished the headmaster. Why had he waited for so long? She'd had more than enough time.
The emerald glow, – the last thing that Professor Dumbledore had seen in his life, – smashed against the wall to Hermione's left. The girl admired the pure colour of the fresh spring greenery. The professor's Killing Curse was certainly of high quality– she'd be deader than dead without a doubt. As soon as the flash of the deadly spell stopped dazzling her, the girl saw Professor McGonagall, white as chalk. The Head of Gryffindor had just rushed into the corridor from the side of the Ravenclaw Tower. Barely keeping up, Professor Flitwick trotted behind her, he was out of breath but determined. Both professors were followed by a tattered Terry Booth, who was slightly limping. It was unknown where they were hurrying to, but, of course, they stopped.
Hermione realised that from their point of view the Right Hand of the Dark Lord had just attempted to kill her. The girl already began opening her mouth to lie the first thing that came to her mind in order to prevent a fight, but, looking into Professor Snape's face, shut herself up without any 'Silencio'. All right, a fight was needed as he had started roleplaying. One day, if not he her, then she'd kill him for sure!
Snape blocked the first spell with a slight delay as he still kept pointing his wand at Hermione, securing her from his dispersing Avada. Then things got merrier. Hermione, however, chose not to participate in the mise-en-scène. To stand on the Death Eater's side and attack her own allies would be suspicious, and the girl had no desire to be the fourth against him either. Professor Snape was a powerful wizard, of course, but better safe than sorry.
McGonagall's Petrificus – blocked. Flitwick's Incarcerous – dodged. Terry's Stupefy – no need to mention it at all. The spells were bouncing along the corridor, ricocheting off the walls. Hermione humped her shoulders tensely, forcing herself not to close her eyes. What was he up to? The professor cast a Petrificus Totalus without aiming, then an Expelliarmus, then leapt towards the stairs. Ten steps at once. Hermione's jaw dropped. He had never taught her that! Was it dark magic? Professor Flitwick bravely covered her with his own body, although he was only a third of Hermione's height. Professor McGonagall immediately cast a Protego onto the shocked student. Hermione would have never imagined that the Heads could speak to the headmaster in such a way. In the next half a minute, Professor Snape heard quite a lot about himself: about his hair, his dishonourable behaviour, the gloomy feelings he evoked while living in the dungeons, his resemblance to various reptiles and blood-sucking creatures, let alone Dementors, etcetera, etcetera. They didn't forget to mention his betrayal, cowardice and his pathological tendency to dastardly murders – in particular, of Albus Dumbledore and defenceless schoolgirls. Snape politely listened to the very last epithet, hiding behind a dark magic shield and his inimitable, completely disgusting smirk. Then he jumped onto the railing of the stairs. Hermione blinked, but her eyes were not deceiving her – he really stood on the railing of the seventh floor, numerous flights of stairs beneath him. Snape turned towards them, swaying slightly: black fire in his eyes, a huge window from top to the ground floor behind his back. In the window could be seen the wreckage of Gryffindor Tower and the Dark Mark in the cold blue sky. What was he doing?! Severus… no need to be upset, we'll wash your hair…
Hermione's defenders also didn't grasp what the trick was about, however, having broken through the enemy's shield with a blast, they began waving their wands with renewed vigour. The Potions Master chose not to wait for their spells and simply jumped off the railing. Hermione shrieked and so did the others. First from shock, then from an even greater shock. The vile bastard flew not down, but towards the window, waved his wand, turning glass into dust, and rushed through the air straight to the Forbidden Forest. This was way beyond the laws of magic and gravity! How fortunate it was that he was on the side of Hogwarts!
The professors mentioned Salazar, Merlin and all of their undergarments. Hermione silently sank onto the floor, and Terry rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
"Well-well-well," Professor Flitwick remarked philosophically, "as I understand it, the headmaster has resigned. I believe it would be wise and fair to delegate his authorities to you, Minerva. You are truly worthy, and I think everyone will agree with me."
"Yes, Filius, on a day like this, the school cannot be left without a headmaster," Professor McGonagall uttered slowly, following with a stern look the black dot already approaching the anti-apparition barrier. "If this position is entrusted to me, I'll do my best to protect Hogwarts. If not, someone else will surely do the same and I'll help. However, we must resolve this issue immediately as it's time to activate the defensive magic of the castle," she disdainfully moved away from the railing.
"That scoundrel flies no worse than his Master," the Head of Ravenclaw voiced their shared opinion.
"Cowardly traitor," the Head of Gryffindor snapped scornfully.
"Mean bastard," Terry breathed, coming out of a stupor.
"Severus," Hermione whispered silently.
Then she burst into tears, although no one was surprised at this.