At the edge of the forest Hermione and Ron had to dismount from their brooms. This significantly slowed down their movement, but otherwise they would not be able to slip past the Death Eaters. Before the friends had reached the anti-apparition barrier, where the protective charms of Hogwarts ceased working, the enemy had tried to shoot them down twice. Albeit, without great zeal as the main target so far remained the towers, not individual wizards flying by. From a bird's-eye view it could be better seen how the ancient protection of the castle was worn out: breaches gaped here and there, the magic dome sagged noticeably, but for the time being it endured. When Ron and Hermione flew around the North Tower, a huge gap yawned right above it, allowing a few dozen Death Eaters to trickle through. The friends had no doubts that the Divination Tower was not going to survive, but they couldn't help its defenders.
They walked from the anti-apparition barrier. Hermione transfigured her robes into a comfortable jacket in inconspicuous white. Ron, following her example, repainted his orange jacket too; although he made a reservation that he liked the previous colour much more. They had to make their way through the forest as the road was already guarded by Dementors, past which it was impossible to slip unnoticed, and the secret passage by the Whomping Willow was blocked by fighting giants.
On one hand, to make their way through the forest wasn't difficult: they simply had to follow the trail left by the Fiendfyre – it stretched almost to the Shrieking Shack. On the other hand, Voldemort had used the conveniently scorched clearing to line up his troops, and therefore the friends had to be fully alert, wading through the snowdrifts at a safe distance. Ron honestly tried to display his Gryffindorian heroism and crawl closer to assess the combat power of the enemy, but Hermione voiced her categorical protest as they were awaited by matters no less risky, but much more urgent and important. The fact that they were not visible under Harry's cloak and not heard behind the silencing charms did not mean that they didn't leave footprints or were invincible against magic. Reluctantly, Ron accepted his fate and crept peacefully past the Death Eaters, trolls, Inferi and other nasty verminous scum lurking in the clearing. He didn't cause them any harm. Although he could!
The friends feared they would have trouble finding Harry, but they didn't. In the vicinity of the Shrieking Shack, the edge of the large dell along which they were walking led them a little to the right, into a spruce spinney. Hermione thought, with nostalgia, how many great cones could be collected here – she could really do with some Calming Drops right now. The strip of scorched earth stretching along the bottom of the glade began to turn into ordinary, snow-covered ground, and, despite the protection of the magic cloak, the guys involuntarily ducked a little – the Shrieking Shack was about to appear in front of their eyes, viewed from above. That was where, in a tiny clearing above the ravine, they found Harry.
By all indications Harry was drawing a magic circle, trotting around the perimeter of the clearing. Most of all, it looked like the final stage of creating a Horcrux. Ron and Hermione looked at each other, shrugged and removed the Invisibility Cloak. Even though they tried to do it gently, Harry still flinched and jumped back, withdrawing his wand. How twitchy he had become – what was up with him?
"Are you mad scaring me like that?" the brave Potter asked resentfully. "You-Know-Who is nearby."
Apparently, You-Know-Who was so close that even Potter was afraid to call him by name – what if he suddenly heard?
Hermione, who hadn't yet seen Harry after his transformation, realised that she had almost forgotten what he actually looked like. She was so used to Neville's appearance. The real Harry, as it turned out, had matured and, with a short haircut, seemed almost unrecognisable. There were no usual black locks sticking out in all directions, although the lightning-bolt scar proved his identity in the best possible way. Neville's clothes were obviously too big for him, but Harry didn't care about fashion or anything at all. He was extremely upset and completely blue with cold.
"Sorry," Ron said in a whisper. "We came to see how you're doing. Need any help?"
"Thanks," Harry replied sluggishly, his lips disobedient from the cold and the long silence. "I'm freezing. Can't use magic to keep warm as those freaks might detect it. No help is needed because I'm not doing anything. How are you two? What else bad has happened?"
His friends exchanged glances, winking at each other.
"We have some news," Ron said.
"Start with the worst," Potter sighed resignedly.
"But Harry, it's all good!" Hermione consoled him. "Firstly, the diadem is gone. Spooky turned out to be a way to destroy Horcruxes. He ate the diadem and finished it off."
"Spooky? Ate the diadem?" the glacified Harry repeated and immediately thawed.
"Yes, can you imagine? Only he, unfortunately, flew away –"
The girl didn't finish her sentence because Harry suddenly smothered her as well as Ron.
"The news is just superb!" he yelled in a whisper, hugging his friends. "And I'm sitting here like a dummy, thought that there's no hope. If your other news is just as good – that's it! You-Know-Who can go you-know-what himself. Though, I can't imagine what could be better. Is he terminally ill or are there fewer Horcruxes than we thought?"
"No… That's a different kind of news," Ron managed to clear his throat before Hermione and therefore spoke first. "To cut it short, Snape is our friend. I hope you're happy."
"What, again?" Harry looked at his friends in confusion.
Hermione was definitely happy. Ron seemed to be in doubt.
"Why 'again'?" the girl said, surprised. "He's always been, only Professor Dumbledore didn't want anyone to know."
"Really?" Harry uttered with an incomprehensible smirk. "Come then, I'll show you something. Good that you brought my cloak, now we can get a bit closer."
And so they did: crawled to the very edge of the ravine and settled down behind a fallen spruce. Now it was especially difficult to spot them, covered by the Invisibility Cloak and the silencing charms cast prudently over it. Although anything could be expected from the Dark Lord, who, by the way, was right there, strolling along the bottom of the ravine near the entrance to the Shrieking Shack. About twenty Death Eaters stood before him in a semicircle. The most powerful of the dark wizards in full readiness for the decisive battle, all cloaked and masked, lethal together and separately. Vermin! To the left, in the direction Ron and Hermione had come from, the rest of the army was getting bored in the clearing, awaiting the order to launch an offensive. However, from the cliff, the clearing was not visible – it ended about a hundred meters before the shack. All the guys could see was Voldemort pacing another magic circle in the snow, albeit it was larger than Harry's. If the Dark Lord were creating a new Horcrux, it would be better for the trio to go and hang themselves. But it seemed that the Lord had nothing in his hands; and the friends calmed down a little – as much as it was possible near Voldemort. The Dark Lord looked as usual: black robes (apparently, he was not cold), a lifeless reptilian face, a huge snake intertwining its endless rings in a transparent magic sphere above his head. Nothing interesting, and frankly the guys would rather to have never seen him at all.
"How did you find him?" Ron mouthed, forcing his voice not to tremble.
He didn't see them, did not see them – even the Dark Lord couldn't see through the Invisibility Cloak. And Mad-Eye Moody could. But the Lord didn't have a mad eye; his eyes were mad, but not magical. Just red… narrow… with vertical serpentine pupils – precisely like Draco's Boggart's. Good that such details could not be seen from the cliff. Brrrr!
Harry looked at his friend in bewilderment.
"By the growing ache in my scar. That was easy," he explained matter-of-factly. "Right now it's bursting with pain."
"Have you been here since morning?" Hermione asked sympathetically.
"Almost. But nothing interesting happens. You-Know-Who leaves the shack, then returns to it again. Once he disapparated to somewhere, but then firmly dug-in here. The snake's with him all the time. The Death Eaters don't leave his side too. He either confers with them in the shack or comes out to give orders on how to smash the protection of Hogwarts. In general, as soon as it's finished, they'll start the full-length attack. Our good friend Snape is among them, by the way," Harry muttered in conclusion, nodding towards the twenty of Voldemort's minions.
"Is he? Where?" Hermione perked up. Lying in the middle, she was warmer than the boys, therefore her reaction was more lively.
"Don't know, I lost him as they're all masked," Potter replied grimly. "But somewhere there for sure. Came tearing to his Master not so long ago. As I understood, the Lord didn't actually call him: he thought he was dead. And Snape as if nothing had happened – cloaked, masked, armed with a wand: 'Why would I be dead, my Lord?' Everyone down there got quite agitated, including You-Know-Who. But Snape crawled at his feet a little, swore his allegiance, and the Lord thawed slightly. He even refreshed Snape's Dark Mark to make it work as before. How do you like that?"
"It's awful!" Ron breathed. "I'd die if I were Snape."
"Clever man," whispered Hermione, "he did it. If only for the last time!"
Harry didn't quite grasp their reaction.
"Are you serious about Snape being our friend? Come on, I've moved on from thinking about my mum. Snape came of his own free will. When he wasn't even called. Just because it's time to attack the school."
Hermione shook her head so vigorously that the Invisibility Cloak nearly flew off of their heads.
"No time to explain, Harry, but don't worry about any of it. Dumbledore came up with this plan – from the portrait. Professor Snape is here to give you the sword of Gryffindor."
"Gryffindor's sword? Are you sure?" martial ardour flashed in Potter's green eyes, making his glasses sparkle as excitedly as Professor Dumbledore's had done.
"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, it's Gryffindor's sword. How come Snape has it?"
"He drew it out of the Sorting Hat. Does it matter?"
"Snape?!"
Ron chuckled – as a true Gryffindorian, he understood Harry perfectly well. After all, the sword was a relic of their House.
"Yeah, mate, I was shocked too, but you'll get used to it after a while," he consoled his best friend.
"Wrong line of thinking, Harry," Hermione whispered. "Sorry, but let's deal with the friends of your parents later, okay?"
"I wasn't –"
"Wonderful. Listen, this is really important: without the sword you won't kill the snake, You-Know-Who will remain immortal, and you won't defeat him!"
"I know," Harry frowned. "I've been staring at his snake for the last few hours, wondering how to break that sphere. One mistake and the snake is as good as lost!"
"What if the snake isn't the last Horcrux?" Ron queried anxiously. "Then its destruction won't help you."
"Should be the last," Harry replied with conviction. "I haven't seen any other Horcruxes in You-Know-Who's mind. And Professor Slughorn said that you can't divide your soul into more than seven parts. I think that if we get rid of that snake, I might actually have a chance to defeat the red-eyed freak. Our wands have a connection, but I'm sure that mine is stronger. Because of my mum. He won't be able to kill me."
"Harry, what if You-Know-Who takes another wand? He's not a fool, he remembers what happened last time," Hermione said cautiously.
"You're right, he's not a fool. Therefore, he knows that my wand, directed against him, will beat any other wand he borrows," Harry said confidently. "Professor Dumbledore told me that. Anyway, do you really think that, during the battle for Hogwarts and the hunt for me, You-Know-Who will give up on the wand that has chosen him?"
"Who knows, Harry," the girl drawled dubiously. "What worries me, he's not really hunting you yet. Although he should, considering the rate of death of his Horcruxes. This means he's lacking something and waiting for it."
"An Avada Kedavra between his eyes," growled Ron.
"Do you think Gryffindor's sword could cut the sphere, if I get close enough?" Harry diverted their conversation into an applied course. "I could dive on my broom…"
Hermione was surprised that she had seriously started considering this option. As if there were a tiny chance You-Know-Who wouldn't notice Potter flying towards him on a broom. Though, if her friend wrapped himself in the Invisibility Cloak… In the mouth of Harry, who was generally inclined to talk about Voldemort as something mundane, the wildest ideas sounded viable. He hated and despised the murderer of his parents so much that he was ready to do whatever it takes to terminate that repository of evil. And he was never afraid of him. Against the background of this pure, guileless confidence in the triumph of good, the mystical horror inspired by Professor Snape slightly dissipated. Hermione certainly was not going to pass those hopeless thoughts to Harry, especially since she did not understand herself what constructive conclusion should have been drawn from them. To die as quickly as possible because Voldemort was invincible, and that's that? She didn't want to think so. She wanted to believe in the best. After all, the professor's opinion was also subjective. He communicated with Voldemort too often, this could not but affect his mood in a negative way.
So… The broom… Perhaps, it could work? Voldemort had been flying without any subsidiary means for a long time; he'd probably forgotten those features that Harry knew like nothing else. To use Potter's strong side to fight Voldemort. A broom… Insanity! Was Severus right then? Such different points of view! Gryffindor – Slytherin… Somewhere there must be a middle ground. The happy medium. To duel and not to duel. To perish and not to perish. To kill and not to kill. How could this be combined? Hermione came out of her reverie, remembering that Harry had asked a question.
"I'm not sure about the sphere, Harry," the girl drawled uncertainly. "I think it should split from the sword. From ordinary spells – hardly. Ron didn't mention that the snake is in the sphere. I would've read about it –"
"If You-Know-Who had already published his first textbook," Ron said sarcastically.
"Don't quarrel again," Harry begged them. "Better tell me, when will Snape give me the sword? If he really has it."
"He has, I saw it myself," Hermione said without going into details. "I think he'll do it as soon as the Lord's meeting is over and he can step aside."
"Does Snape know I'm here?"
"He does, Harry."
"And how will he find me?"
Ron chuckled, covering his mouth.
"He always finds you! He has a good nose for you, Potter-Ten-Points-From-Gryffindor."
Hermione involuntarily smirked, but immediately shushed the guys.
"Quiet! Something's going on down there."
The boys on either side of her froze. Only Harry mumbled in irritation.
"Bloody masks! Now I don't even remember who I should be keeping an eye on."
The change in the situation at the bottom of the ravine was expressed so far only in the fact that the Dark Lord had stopped pacing and stood still, staring at the Death Eaters in front of him with cold thoughtfulness. The silence lasted for several seconds and everyone had already decided that the Lord would continue his musing in this position, but he suddenly spoke.
"The protection of Hogwarts will fall soon, and the castle will be fully mine – there is no doubt about that. However, there is a question that concerns me…"
The Dark Lord's concern was obviously a bad sign. A low rustle ran through the semicircle of the Death Eaters but stumbled over the next phrase of their Master.
"I find nothing useful for myself in that castle."
"Then get the hell out of here," Ron's hissing was no worse than the Lord's, but Hermione nudged the boy in his ribs in order to hush him up.
"My left side is freezing," Ron complained. "And my…erm…stomach."
"And my… stomach turned into an icicle a long time ago," Harry informed them from Hermione's right.
"Shhh," the girl contrived to nudge both guys at once. They ouched and fell silent.
"Coming here, I was hoping not only to find Harry Potter, which, of course, will happen in the near future," the Dark Lord continued, making Harry curse through his gritted teeth, "but also to obtain some magical items of value to me…Unfortunately," the Lord's voice intangibly changed its tonality, making the Death Eaters stand rooted to the spot, afraid to move, "none of these items have yet been found."
The trio was confident that the faces of Voldemort's servants became as static as their masks.
"My Lord!" a female voice rasped, trembling with excitation. "If only you tell me… us what exactly you are looking for, we will turn the whole castle upside down!"
"Silence, Bellatrix," Voldemort interrupted her with a slight impatience. "I need not an overturned castle, but something else… As for you personally, I already know how imprudent it is to trust your hands with anything of value."
"My Lord –" Lestrange croaked.
"I told you to be quiet."
The witch fell silent so sharply, as though she had been gagged.
"Now I would like to listen to someone else…" the Dark Lord uttered calmly, looking around the masks of his servants.
The effect was about the same as in a lesson by Professor Snape. Some wizards lowered their heads; others studied their wands or hunched their shoulders, attempting to hide behind the comrades in front of them. Only Lestrange, standing in the first row, kept looking Voldemort in the eye and demonstratively removed her mask from her face. The Lord, however, stubbornly ignored her zeal to communicate with him.
"Severus," he said in an undertone, unmistakably choosing the desired mask.
Even the students, lying behind the fallen spruce, wanted to flee. How lucky it was that that creature had never been given the DADA post!
"Yes, my Lord," a low voice replied as quietly.
The reply had come from somewhere in the back row – clearly, the guilty pet had not yet been fully forgiven. Not a single mask, however, moved. Nevertheless, that was enough to make a deep impression on Hermione and she felt electrocuted. He really was down there! 'Cause what idiot would pretend to be someone to whom the Dark Lord wanted to talk? Hermione wondered whether she would always react in this way to his voice now, distinguishing it from any others. Although Professor Snape had a memorable manner of speaking – even thinning into a whisper, his speech could be heard at any distance and drew attention to himself. Had he learnt it from his Master? Along with flying? Or rather had stolen it from him… 'Turn to page 40…'; 'Of course, I love you…' Though, it resembled Voldemort's about as much as the living did the dead.
The pause lasted exactly as long as Hermione pondered over the properties of voices. Then Voldemort clarified:
"Come here to me."
Snape approached, slightly pushing aside the gaping Bellatrix. The witch glanced at him with a hatred that seemed a bit excessive for such a trifling occasion.
"You are the headmaster of Hogwarts now, are you not?" the Dark Lord queried.
"I presume, not anymore," the mask named Severus responded after a moment's thought.
"But you were until this morning?" Voldemort was patient when he wanted to achieve what he desired.
"Yes, my Lord," his servant admitted indifferently. "For about four months."
"Tell me everything you know about magical items with unusual properties stored on the school grounds. I am interested in those that have come here in the last hundred years."
"All the items, my Lord?" the professor asked thoughtfully, not at all surprised by the question.
"Yes, all of them. Begin."
"As far as I know, most of the unusual magical artefacts belonged to my predecessor, Professor Dumbledore," Snape said evenly. "Of these, at the time period you specified, the following were brought to the school: a Time-Turner – from the Auror storehouse; the Talisman of the Four Elements – from Norway; the telescope of Ranveer the Eyeless… from India, I think…"
"The Philosopher's Stone," Voldemort prompted.
"Are you interested in that artefact, my Lord?" Snape inquired politely. "The Philosopher's Stone is not currently stored on the school grounds, and I have every reason to believe that it was destroyed six years ago. In any case, I haven't come across it among Professor Dumbledore's belongings. Besides, he didn't resemble… an immortal," the smooth flow of his speech was interrupted for a moment by sarcasm, but Snape promptly returned to the previous, less familiar style – a serious interest on the verge of servility. "My Lord, do you want us to find a Philosopher's Stone at Hogwarts? The same one or a different one?"
"A different one?" Voldemort drawled. "As far as I know, that stone was the last one. But you, as always, have an intriguing idea, Severus. Can you create another Philosopher's Stone for me?" he asked with genuine curiosity.
Snape took a few seconds to think. Or to curse. The risk for frankness.
"I cannot give you a definite answer right now, my Lord," he said. "I haven't studied the samples of what is called a Philosopher's Stone, and the secret of its creation has been lost. However, if such is your command, I'll start searching immediately and will do my best to restore this secret in one way or another."
The Dark Lord smirked.
"Presumptuous. Though, sometimes even I get the impression that you can bring a recipe for anything. Nevertheless, no. At the moment I do not need a Philosopher's Stone," Voldemort uttered softly. "I'd like to know: what other magical items, besides the stone, were destroyed at Hogwarts?"
"Destroyed at Hogwarts?" the Death Eater shuddered. "My Lord, if you mean yesterday's incident with the Fiendfyre –"
"I do not. Name all other cases."
There was a short pause.
"I cannot recall…" the former headmaster said uncertainly. "The Mirror of the Elves – it was a rather fractious artefact that disturbed the sleep of the house-elves… but it was brought into the school over two centuries ago. Nothing else, really…"
"What about the ring?"
"About the ring, my Lord?"
'He's started to echo questions again – he's getting irritated,' Hermione thought and wondered if the Dark Lord knew Severus Snape as well as she did.
"Didn't Dumbledore have a magical ring that he destroyed shortly before his death?" Voldemort inquired in a completely neutral tone.
"I don't know anything about it, my Lord."
"But you did see that half of Dumbledore's hand was withered, did you not?"
How did the Lord know? Though, he had a lot of informers…
"I did, my Lord."
"Did you not ask him what caused it?"
"I did, my Lord, but he chose not to answer me. Now I understand that this could be related to the ring."
Voldemort paced a little more in the snow, then hissed, staring disapprovingly at his servant, who was completely bewildered by the barrage of unexpected questions:
"It seems that Dumbledore did not trust you as much as you tried to assure us."
"Albus Dumbledore was a very extravagant person, but he trusted me more than anyone," Snape replied calmly. "My Lord, should I associate the destruction of the ring with the Philosopher's Stone?"
Voldemort, however, was no longer listening to him as he was immersed in his own thoughts. What he was musing about, no Legilimens could ever reveal.
"Severus, have you returned to our ranks with a wand or empty-handed?" the Dark Lord suddenly changed the subject. Or pretended to do so.
"With a wand, my Lord."
It was pointless to deny – a simple Accio would expose the deception at once.
"It seemed to me that it was damaged yesterday!" Voldemort uttered in amazement, casually withdrawing his own wand. "How many of them do you have?"
"Currently just one, my Lord."
"But where did you obtain a second wand, Severus?" the Lord cast a spell, removing the mask and the hood from Snape's head with one sharp movement. The professor flinched from surprise but continued to look attentively at his Master.
Hermione was sure that Severus had already understood why the interrogation about wands was being conducted, but there was no way for him to avoid it.
"I borrowed it from another wizard. From one of those you ordered to subject to the Killing Curse. Forgive me, my Lord, I needed a wand to continue to serve you."
Voldemort's eyes, red like coals, were burning into his interlocutor for ten seconds before he spoke again.
"The matter is, Severus, that I have encountered a very unusual problem," he began with cold detachment. "Having questioned Ollivander, I obtained a lot of new and interesting information. For instance, that, by a twist of fate, my wand has a connection with the wand of Harry Potter. They are sort of brothers as they have twin cores. And that makes my wonderful wand unsuitable for fighting the boy. This is why I require another wand, Severus. I would like to receive yours. Since you find new ones so quickly."
What?! He was going to deprive Snape of the second wand, too?
"Yes, my Lord."
The professor replied without any hesitation – in the service of the Dark Lord one could lose much, much more than two wands in one day. Strangely enough, Voldemort took a step back and raised his own wand as though to defend himself. From whom? Severus Snape was not a madman. Besides, he had grown accustomed to losing his wands.
Having pulled his wand out of his pocket, the professor paused for a second only because he did not know how best to hand it over to the Lord. But Voldemort said neither Expelliarmus nor Accio. Snape waited a couple of seconds, then walked towards his Master and handed him his wand. The snake, hovering in the transparent sphere above the Lord's head, hissed a warning.
"Severus, this is not the right wand," the Dark Lord said coldly.
According to the etiquette of human communication, one should look at ones interlocutor, but Snape preferred to bewilderedly study the magic wand in his hands.
"I don't have another one," he whispered almost inaudibly.
"Severus, look at me."
Who would disobey?
For a couple of minutes the wizards stood face to face, very close – their clothes almost touching. Another rustle ran through the semi-circle of Death Eaters. Clearly, they were interested in the outcome, too. Hermione, as well as Harry, also knew that moment of agonizing confrontation when one was trapped in a gaze, with no chance to look away or escape. Though, neither of them understood how Snape could endure it in the standing position… Hermione only had a general idea of what was happening at this moment. Most likely, Severus was trying to manoeuvre between the scraps of his own memories, entangled in the Pensieve. He was raising and hastily removing the barriers of Occlumency, making fiction look like truth, his true feelings appear as false, a complete block as an utter openness. 'All right, Headmaster, I will do it…'; 'Of course, I love you, Hermione…'
She's such an idiot! Why had she asked him that?! Draco's wicked smirk suddenly materialised in front of Hermione's eyes. What if she had really exposed Severus to the danger? How could he truly seal his mind and emotions, when she had totally confused him, switched the poles, changed his Patronus? Voldemort would notice these for sure! She hadn't yet figured out that a simple affair with a Mudblood would only be a salvation for Professor Snape. The inexplicable swings of humans' affections were too alien to the Dark Lord. He cared not about girls of any purity of blood, but about much more serious kinds of things.
"Merlin Almighty," Hermione moaned when the meaning of what was happening finally dawned on her. "Why was it revealed now? He knows about the wand! That bastard has figured it out."
"You-Know-Who?" Harry specified the obvious just in case, and then added gloomily: "What has he figured out?"
"Another Horcrux is some sort of wand?" Ron suggested on the left.
"No," the girl said, twisting her frozen fingers in despair. "It's not about some sort of wand but about Professor Dumbledore's!"
"The one that Snape took from…" Potter winced.
"Yes, Harry. That was no ordinary wand but the Elder Wand. It was very ancient and very powerful, but now it's destroyed. I think You-Know-Who wanted to use it against you."
"Sweet," Harry grinned grimly. "Are you implying that Professor Dumbledore deliberately told Snape to take it from his tomb so Voldemort didn't get it?"
"As if! No, I think Dumbledore had no idea that You-Know-Who would come up with such a solution," Hermione's face fell. "Otherwise he wouldn't allow Snape to flash it everywhere, including in front of the Lord! But Dumbledore himself used that wand for many years, and no one ever recognised it as the Elder Wand, although his magic was very unusual. I think he just suspected that You-Know-Who might attack Hogwarts and preferred to have a powerful wand on our side. To keep it safe."
"In Snape's hands," Ron blurted out.
"Yes, so what?! Think what would happen if you stole it, Ron. Would you like to be in the professor's place right now?"
"I was just clarifying, Hermione."
"If it was supposed to be safe, how come it's destroyed?" Harry queried thoughtfully.
"You-Know-Who destroyed it," Hermione moaned. "And I think he's realised it only now. Or is about to."
Voldemort finally finished playing with his prey and returned Snape his eyes. The professor closed his eyelids for a few seconds – standing in the wind without blinking was hardly the Palace of Pleasure. He raised his hand, but, meeting the searching look of the Dark Lord, did not dare to bring it to his face.
"You are not hiding anything from me, are you, Severus?"
"No, my Lord."
"And my interference with your memory does not hurt you?"
"No, my Lord."
Voldemort twirled his wand in his long, unusually flexible fingers.
"This is bad," he drew an incomprehensible conclusion. "Because I must learn the truth. The matter is that today I visited the tomb of Albus Dumbledore where I discovered something interesting. First, his withered hand. Second, the absence of a magic wand in it. However, as far as I remember, wizards are buried with their wands?"
So, now even Occlumency was meaningless. The story of the headmaster's stolen wand had, in due time, become famous all over Hogwarts. The Slytherin Death Eaters naturally knew it very well from their kids. Still… How did Voldemort find out about the Elder Wand? Even Dumbledore was sure that its secret had been buried for centuries. Apparently, it hadn't been. And now the Dark Lord needed that wand to fight Harry Potter. Hermione bit her lip to bleeding. 'Oh, Severus, I knew you should have never gone back to the Lord!'
"He's figured it out. We're toast," Hermione muttered in a faint voice, although she was lying in a safe place under the Invisibility Cloak.
"Obviously, Dumbledore, foreseeing his imminent death, nevertheless, chose not to destroy or hide his wand," Voldemort justified her worst assumptions. "And you, Severus, just confirmed that by saying that nothing of substance has disappeared from Hogwarts lately. I believe that, since you noticed the old man's crippled hand, dining with him at the same table every day, you would have noticed the change of his magic wand," the Dark Lord continued, loud and clear. "Further, it was not difficult for me to establish, first, that some kind of wand was indeed buried with Dumbledore, and second, who took it from his tomb. However, none of that matters. I am more interested in learning where it is now."
Snape knew that the question was addressed to him, but he was in no hurry to answer. Slowly, very slowly, he breathed out, re-gripping his wand as if grasping at straws.
"My Lord, I had it on me last night."
The Dark Lord fixed his otherworldly, unblinking gaze at the professor. His eyelids, devoid of any eyelashes, slightly squinted, the vertical pupils narrowing in the slits.
"You walked around with Dumbledore's wand, even though you had another?" Voldemort inquired calmly. "So, you killed the old man, took his wand and came to me with it… After scorching half of the Forbidden Forest."
"My Lord, I don't understand what –"
"Let us try to understand it together, Severus. Legilimens! Crucio!"
Two spells at once? How was it even possible? Hermione vowed inwardly that she would no longer allow herself to think that Professor Snape had been torturing her. After meetings with the Lord, all their training must have seemed child's play to him. Pronounced out loud, Voldemort's spells predictably gained a much greater onslaught and strength. The first one threw Snape ten paces back, forcing him to grab his head; the second tossed him into the air. His magic wand fell from his hand. Hermione buried her face in the snow, closing her eyes and putting her hands over her ears, but, of course, she still heard him screaming. And this scream did not subside for several long, long minutes. She personally did not care whether he gave them up to Voldemort or not. In fact, she'd prefer that he did, because no one could endure such torture. She wished he'd stopped screaming, praying that the Dark Lord would let go of him before Crucio drove him insane or Legilimens irrevocably burnt out his memory. And she would never allow anyone to call him a coward or a traitor again! She'd rip that person's tongue out. Without any magic!
When Ron shook her shoulder, afraid that she was in a dead faint, and Hermione raised her tear-stained eyes, it was already over. And quite satisfactorily. The Dark Lord was thoughtfully pacing back and forth, swinging his wand in two fingers in the manner of a pendulum. Snape, who had fallen back to the ground, was conscious and didn't look particularly surprised. He was extremely pale, but he had never been blooming, even before. He scooped up some snow with his trembling hand and swallowed it instead of water. It seemed to help him feel a bit better. Perhaps, nothing special had happened and Voldemort always talked like that? The Death Eaters froze in tense silence – by all appearances many of them had experienced such an interrogation and dreaded the Lord like fire. If not much more. Only the careless Bellatrix laughed.
"Listen, Ron, you should get Hermione out of here," Harry whispered, looking at the tear-filled face of the girl hiding to his left. She was normally so steadfast in difficult situations. "I don't think it's going to end well."
Here, Harry thought so, too!
"I'm not leaving," Hermione said barely audible.
"What about you, Harry?" Ron asked in amazement. He himself was not averse to be as far as possible from that red-eyed monster. But wanting was one thing, and abandoning a friend was another.
"I'll try to get the sword somehow," Harry replied without much hope in his voice. "Thanks for telling me where it is. If I succeed, things will go faster. If not, you will have to finish the job. Do you think McGonagall or Flitwick can cast Fiendfyre?"
"Should we find out and bring them here?" Ron specified while Hermione, contrary to her custom of chiming in with suggestions, just looked in despair at the clearing, wiping away her tears.
"If You-Know-Who hasn't been checking him all the time, I could try to reach out to him with Legilimency," she muttered.
Harry frowned, figuring out who she was talking about.
"No, the Lord will notice," he said with conviction. "Besides, what's the use? Snape doesn't even have a wand. You-Know-Who won't let me walk up and take the sword. I don't know, Ron, who should be brought and to where! The Dark Lord certainly won't stay here 'til evening… Damn! Time's running out, and we're not getting anywhere!"
Something wasn't working out for Voldemort either. He glared at Snape with irritation, not willing to leave him alone. And he most definitely was not going to dismiss his faithful servant, allowing him to deliver the magic sword to Harry Potter.
"So, you really have no idea what that wand was?"
Snape's dusky eyes were hardly capable of reproducing an innocent look, even if his life depended on it. However, his face expressed incomprehension and bewilderment. Voldemort, yet again, paced along the line of his silent servants. Snape watched him, still sitting in the snow; his features ran the gamut of exactly the same emotions, from alertness to fear, that they had done on the day he had received his Mark.
"If he's acting, he's quite convincing," Ron gave an encouraging assessment of the professor's work. "I'd buy it if I were You-Know-Who."
Harry grimaced, rubbing his throbbing-with-pain scar. No, the Dark Lord was quite furious. The snake in the magic sphere was wild with rage, coiling and uncoiling the rings of its endless body. Snape hardly had to act an impotent despair. The threat in the guise of Voldemort wandering back and forth could easily awaken the right range of feelings. Though, the mood of his victims never bothered the Lord in the least. He was concerned only about facts, and they, right now, were rather deplorable.
"Then why did you take Dumbledore's wand, Severus?" he demanded with cold hostility.
Oh, that was a very bad question. Hermione silently crossed her arms on her chest. Snape spoke dully and quickly, without any expression and trying not to look his Master in the eye.
"My Lord, I was unaware that you required it. I'd lost my wand at that time – a trick of the students, I believe. I found it later…"
That was actually the truth, although it sounded quite unconvincing. Lost a wand – found a wand…
Hermione glanced at Ron disapprovingly – she had always known that stealing the headmaster's wand was a terrible move. Voldemort most definitely was not going to appreciate that. Ronald frowned, pretending not to understand her gaze.
"I thought," Professor Snape's voice dropped to the edge of inaudibility again, "that it's easier to take a wand from a dead wizard than from a living one. Depriving Dumbledore's corpse of a wand seemed like a good idea. I wanted to teach his followers a lesson, to make Dumbledore's wand serve you, my Lord. Besides, it simply was… a good wand."
"The matter is, Severus, that it was not just a good wand," Voldemort amended him. "You have utterly displeased me by taking that wand from the tomb without telling me first. You have failed me, Severus."
"No, my Lord!" Snape exclaimed in horror.
"Yes, my Lord!" Bellatrix fumed. "My Lord, do not believe a word he says! He lies! He always lies! He betrayed you, he always helped Dumbledore! I have remembered!" she gasped for air, overwhelmed with excitement. "The incident you scolded me for! When my sister and I were at Snape's, he saw me by his fireplace. He told me not to touch his things. He probably noticed how I swapped –"
"Silence, Bellatrix," Voldemort snapped, looking at her irritably. "That was your fault. You should have been more careful."
Bellatrix trembled, trying to say something else, but, apparently, the Dark Lord had not only ordered her to be quiet, but also cast some kind of spell on her. The frightened witch did not manage to make a sound. Snape, with his characteristic sharpened instinct for dark plans, took advantage of the short respite and began to cautiously creep towards his wand. However, it had fallen too far.
What was happening reminded Harry of a scene he had sneaked a peek at in the Pensieve. The notorious showdown between Snape, his parents and the friends of his parents, peeping at which had cost Harry the Occlumency lessons. Harry did not know why the episode that kept haunting him came to his mind right now. He did not want to equate his father with Voldemort; or to speculate about the boundaries of good and evil; or – even worse – to ponder why fate had brought Snape here and why he always received the most unenviable roles in life. Bastard! He had betrayed Lily and James, and that could never be fixed. Harry was not going to feel sorry for him. And he did not intend to forgive him either. Snape had always made his own choices. And one choice was only a retribution for another. And frankly, he would never accept any pity or forgiveness from Harry, because he did not give a damn about him. Yet, Harry did not want any retribution. All he wanted was the war to end, making the Lord rot in hell along with his minions and everyone else just go somewhere warm. But nothing was changing for the better – only for the worse; and Harry's scar was burning more and more as if it really contained a lightning bolt.
"My Lord…" a static mask on the edge of the semicircle uttered, making Voldemort forget about his guilty servant for a few more seconds. "My Lord, I believe I should say… Snape's wand really was stolen, and he had to look for a new one… Draco told me about it… Snape even used Draco's wand for a while."
The Dark Lord shrugged indifferently.
"Draco's wand does not worry me much. Unlike Draco himself. Where is he, by the way? I heard he did not return with the others after the debacle at the Astronomy Tower. Although he was not seen dead either. Should I tell you what else I have heard about your son, Lucius?"
The mask shuddered.
"That cannot be true, my Lord –"
Another masked figure (a female, by the looks of it) convulsively grabbed Malfoy's hand – Narcissa, no doubt. Lucius stopped short and hastily lowered his head.
"We'll deal with it too," Voldemort promised, giving them a lingering stare, "in due course. Don't touch your wand, Severus, you will not be needing it."
Snape froze, reaching out for his wand, but hesitating to seize it. Gryffindor? Slytherin? There was little difference – fast death or a slow one. He quietly removed his hand. Either he preferred to suffer or hadn't given up hope of passing on the sword.
"So, the Elder Wand is gone," Voldemort summed up dispassionately, turning to him. "Never mind, there are other ways. But for now, I suppose, I will have to use your wand, Severus. It cannot be helped. You tired me too much anyway. And took too much of my time…" without changing his tone, the Dark Lord waved his own wand that was good for everything except Harry Potter.
The transparent magic ball with the enclosed snake came out of the state of slow rotation over the Lord's head and flew through the air towards Snape.
The professor's lips turned white; he tried to say something but stopped short.
What was there to be said, really?
The sphere was rapidly approaching; the Lord and the Death Eaters did not take their eyes off the serpent rushing through the air. Snape jumped to his feet and backed away, then ran. Hermione, at the edge of the ravine, attempted to dart out from under the Invisibility Cloak, which was a dangerous move, because the professor instinctively dashed in their direction, making the snake and the gazes of all the wizards gathered in the ravine follow him.
"What are you doing?!" Ron whispered in horror, barely managing to pin the girl to the ground. "There'll be three more corpses, and that's all! Harry, hold her! She's under Imperio!"
Hermione was stubbornly trying to wriggle free, demanding to let her go to him – either to Snape, or to Voldemort.
"We can't help him, Hermione!" Harry murmured. "I'm truly sorry, but how will we smash –" he did not finish, because the sphere finally reached its victim.
It had taken about fifteen seconds – no more. The Death Eaters gasped, Ron closed his eyelids, the Dark Lord calmly put his wand back into his pocket.
"The sword… He has the sword…" Hermione breathed; her eyes glazed.
Through the smoky veil of the cloak that was covering the friends, they saw that Snape had pulled something like a small dagger out of his pocket. At the last moment as he was rightly afraid that the Dark Lord could take it away as well. Voldemort indeed perked up, although he could hardly distinguish what it was from that distance. Harry, who was practically daydreaming about the sword and had long been holding his wand at the ready, orientated himself faster. Though, he couldn't think of anything better than returning the sword to its original size. By that time, the sphere that had fallen from above had already swallowed the professor up to his chest, not allowing him to move properly. Having lengthened several times, the sword of Gryffindor became heavier in weight. Snape's narrow hand trembled, unaccustomedly re-gripping the hilt, but he somehow contrived to direct the sharp point in the right direction. The silvery blade sparkled for a moment in the light of the winter sun, then entered, as if into butter, the impenetrable magic ball, cutting open the belly of the snake. At the same second, Nagini's teeth closed on the professor's throat, and everyone shrieked: Snape, the Death Eaters, Voldemort, the wounded Horcrux, and Hermione.
Hermione was the loudest. Or so it seemed to her friends, huddling next to her into the snow melting beneath them. Harry's thoughts were still with the magic sword; Ron, who was a little bewildered by what was happening, went numb and forgot to pin Hermione to the ground. And since nobody was holding her anymore, the girl immediately escaped from under the cover of invisibility and leapt over the fallen spruce, rushing down into the ravine. She had only had time to mutter: 'Forgive me…' Ron had only had time to whisper to Potter: 'Stay here!' and Harry had only had time to exclaim: 'As if!' And so all three of them rolled down the snow-covered cliff.
At first, Hermione dashed towards Professor Snape, but instantly realised that it was in vain. She wasn't even sure whether the professor could see her or not. He was looking in her direction, but his eyes were widened and blood was already gushing from the wound on his neck. The snake twisted in convulsions, clutching its rings around its murderer; and he fell completely into the sphere. For a brief moment it seemed that Nagini had lost her strength – the professor somehow freed himself from her captivity and, stumbling over her scaly tail, jumped to the side. However, there was nowhere to go within the sphere. Snape stopped, breathing hoarsely, clutching the lacerated wound in his throat with one hand, and holding the sword, which he could not lift again, with the other. Cold serpentine blood was dripping from the rubies encrusted in the hilt of the sword. Why didn't the Horcrux die? Nagini raised her head, realising that she could not escape from the sphere either. She gave a disgusting hiss and made a second lunge.
Hermione sobbed, backed away and changed direction. By analogy with Inferi (thanks to the deceased Carrow for the lesson), she decided that she should attack not the sphere but Voldemort. Easier said than done! The Death Eaters hadn't killed them yet not only due to Harry and Ron rushing after her and sending shield charms far ahead, but also due to the Lord holding back his minions with a short wave of his hand. He himself stood with his wand raised and looked not at the approaching Hermione, but behind her back – either at his beloved Nagini, or at the hated boy with a lightning scar, who was actually running into his hands. But, unfortunately, not at the most opportune moment. Judging by the terrible wheezing that flew out of the serpent's mouth, the last Horcrux was rapidly dying, depriving the Dark Lord of hope for immortality.
The protective sphere was swiftly thinning out, its dome spattering into sparkles; but the snake and the wizard entangled by it kept rolling in the snow, mixing their blood with it – the scarlet of the human's and maroon, almost black, of the snake's. It was clear that neither of them would come out of this fight alive. Writhing in agony, Nagini hugged her adversary more and more tightly. Snape continued to frantically hold the sword with both hands, cutting her body towards her throat. He was choking on his own blood as well as on the snake's. Voldemort was hastily muttering a spell that was supposed to dispel the impenetrable magic ball around them. He could not explain to himself how he had managed to let the man with Gryffindor's sword approach his last Horcrux and had even personally locked them together in private.
After a moment, the magic dome dissipated, but the Dark Lord hesitated with Avada Kedavra – the opponents were intertwined too closely, and the need of hurrying was gone as the snake was inevitably dying. Another second and its rings uncoiled, turning into clouds of black smoke. Snape freed himself but could no longer move. Having dropped the sword, he held on to his torn throat with both hands, fixing his fading gaze on the Lord and only on the Lord. He didn't look at Hermione, frozen between him and his Master, as if on purpose. Voldemort lowered his wand, not intending to alleviate his suffering. Snape had fulfilled all of Dumbledore's instructions – to the last letter. Very few people in the ravine understood the scale of what he had done. The Death Eaters behind Voldemort were confused and horrified. Their Master was utterly frustrated. It was clear that he felt sorry for his pet, but Nagini wasn't the last snake in the world!
Hermione remained standing halfway between the Lord and the place of the very short fight. Voldemort hadn't yet given the order to attack and that was the only reason that the girl, along with Harry and Ron, was still alive and unharmed. Ron slowed down next to Snape – since they had rushed to save him, he should, at least, try. Harry walked towards Voldemort, holding his wand raised in front of him. It was not the wand of Neville Longbottom, to which he had become attached over the past months, but his own, with a legendary phoenix feather.
"You came to me yourself, Harry Potter?" the Dark Lord inquired softly, not sounding at all surprised. He no longer paid any attention either to the lost Horcrux or to his servant, whose punishment had cost him so much. "Well, so be it. It simplifies everything," he uttered, raising, once again, his wand with a twin feather in its core.
"It does, doesn't it?!" Harry shouted, looking into the scarlet slits in place of human eyes. "It simplifies everything indeed! Because now you are mortal! Like everyone else. So, now you're going to die!"
The Death Eaters backed away, making room for a duel. Hermione stared around, feeling like she was in a bad dream. Over. It was all over. That damn bastard had killed Severus and, throwing him aside like trash, had switched to Harry... She suddenly screamed, unexpectedly even for herself. It was not an incantation (she had recited that nonverbally), but a heart-rending female cry of horror and despair. Voldemort's narrow eyes, illuminated from within by the red fire, were too close whereas the other ones, pitch-black, matching the colour of the starless darkness, were going too far away. While the girl had been running to the bottom of the ravine, somewhere on the boundary of her consciousness she had been trying to remember the sensation that she had clearly imagined at the top of the Astronomy Tower – the confident touch of Snape's fingers, covering her hand to control the movement of her wand. It had seemed crucially important – to draw the impossible pattern correctly. And now, when everything appeared to be pointless and meaningless, her hand drew the pattern by itself.
Voldemort looked only at Potter, preparing an Avada Kedavra. Therefore, Bellatrix was the first one to orientate herself – she had either guessed with a female instinct or had recognised the pattern, recreated by Hermione in mid-air. The witch screamed wildly almost simultaneously with the girl; the rest of the Lord's minions followed their lead. But only Lucius, unsinkable as ever, got his bearings correctly – having grabbed his wife, he, without delving into anything, disapparated, taking advantage of the first opportunity. Which was also the last.
'Fiendfyre is not a directed spell, Miss Granger…'
It was not directed indeed, striking the bottom of the ravine as well as both of its slopes at once. The Fiendfyre rose in a golden wave, and a herd of fiery unicorns rushed down the hollow in the direction opposite to Hermione. How far it went and how many were caught by it – the girl did not know. All she saw was Bellatrix, darting with an incomprehensible dark-magic leap towards the Dark Lord. Having reached her beloved, the witch flung her arms around his neck, trying to block the fire with her own body. She didn't even withdraw her wand – what's the point? Hermione was protected by shield charms; a torrent of flame had already poured out of her wand and no one would have time to stop it. In the next instant, both Bellatrix and the Lord (along with the green radiance that had already appeared at the tip of his wand) were incinerated into sparkling ash. Within a few seconds, their fate was shared by the disintegrated semicircle of the Death Eaters. Some of them fell onto the ground, others tried to defend themselves or disapparate, but there was only one end. In a twinkling of an eye, there was nothing in front of Hermione but ash. Who still had doubts that Mudbloods could make good witches? All doubters were gone. The girl mechanically finished the final part of the spell, making the fiery tornado draw back into her wand. Fiendfyre must be caught – one couldn't let ones killing ability roam free.
'Professor, I did it…'
Hermione sank onto the snow, dropping her wand. Ron, who continued covering her with Protego (the girl herself hadn't remembered to cast it), looked dumbfoundedly towards the significantly widened hollow.
"Time to scram, don't you think?" he said to the unconscious professor.
"Severus!" Hermione called. She wanted to run to him but couldn't get to her feet.
Having approached the girl, Harry picked up her wand and, grabbing her under the arms, dragged Hermione away from the border of the melted snow and scorched earth. Coals were still smouldering here and there, but in general it became very quiet.
"If they have any survivors, they'll be all here in no time," Ron told him.
Harry nodded, supporting Hermione, who was barely alive with shock, by her shoulders.
"Apparating?" he asked Ron.
"Where to?"
"Doesn't matter. But only one of us should do magic. Considering how messed up we all are right now, we could get scattered or even splinched. Who'd you say will manage best?"
"I think Hermione…"
"Severus, sweetheart… I'm begging you," bursting into tears, Hermione lay down next to the professor and began to wipe away the blood from his face, dripping some kind of potion from a crystal vial onto his lips.
Only last night she had thought that she could never endure it for the second time: Severus, the snow mixed with his blood, and the impotent powerlessness. Anything else, but that! Now, in the bright daylight, everything seemed even more terrible and hopeless. Yes, she was surrounded by friends rather than Dementors, had a vast range of potions and a magic wand, in fact several of them! But now he didn't even speak – not a word. And didn't open his eyes either – his eyelashes, stuck together with blood, seemed pitch-black against the background of translucent, completely bloodless skin and didn't even flinch. Was he dead? Permanently? Hermione buried her forehead in his Death Eater's cloak, wet with snow and blood. 'I should stop tearing your cloak, huh?... Why did you come here, silly? Why did I let you?'
"Hermione, I think he's –" Ron began, wiping his bloody hands on his trousers, but stopped short seeing Harry showing him a fist from behind Hermione's back.
The girl didn't raise her head. Obviously, she neither thought about apparition nor was able to do it. Harry sighed and put her wand into his pocket.
"All right, I'll apparate us. But where to? Somewhere in the forest, or on the border of the anti-apparition barrier? Let's say on the shore of the lake?"
"Wherever!" Ron was wet, cold and generally uncomfortable. All of them were smeared with mud and blood; ashes left from the enemies were blowing into their faces and Ron sincerely could not understand why his friends were in no hurry to get out of here.
"We need to go to the Hospital Wing," Hermione said without looking at the guys.
"Hermione, listen, I'm sorry about Snape, but we can't go there right now. Besides, that's beyond the anti-apparition barrier," Ron said as if the great apparater.
"All right, the lake then," the girl agreed obediently.
She did not seem to care much about anything besides whether she could make the professor drink a potion. Although, taking into account his torn throat, it was unlikely he was able to swallow. In fact, Snape had been like this for quite some time: cold and pale, matching the snow. The normal one, not the red mess that was under them. By the looks of it, all of the professor's blood had already passed into this terrible snow, because none of it was dripping from his wound. Ron doubted pretty much that Snape was still alive, but, apparently, it was best not to mention that in front of Hermione. The girl looked rather disturbed and was definitely not going to leave the ex-headmaster dead or alive. What a rotten day. Suddenly it dawned upon Ron and he stared straight ahead in a daze. He would have probably grasped it earlier if it hadn't been for the diadem messing with his brains.
"Guys," he began cautiously in a low voice, "what… what are we actually afraid of? He's… Salazar damn me, he's dead, isn't he? Harry, she killed You-Know-Who! His last Horcrux was the snake, Snape slaughtered it. Voldemort was mortal and Hermione finished him off!"
"Ron, I'm not sure –" Harry said incredulously.
"Oh, come off it," Ron was ready to burst into tears of happiness, forgetting about apparition and the ominously silent clearing behind them. "Is it finally over? Is he really dead and nothing threatens Hogwarts anymore? Hermione! Hermione, your Fiendfyre killed You-Know-Who! For good!"
The girl said nothing – at the moment she didn't care about the Lord, especially the dead one.
"Ron, are you a complete pillock or what?" Harry took him up sharply. "Leave her alone."
"Isn't it important that the Lord has bitten the dust?!"
"We don't know this for sure," Harry said. "And we don't know whether it really was his last Horcrux. But what's more important, we don't know what will happen to Voldemort after his death if at least one of his Horcruxes stayed intact. What if he gets reborn somewhere else?"
"That's unlikely. Even with several Horcruxes he couldn't –"
But Harry interrupted him again.
"My scar is hurting! Worse than before! He must've escaped somehow. Maybe he's learnt a new trick or something!"
"You and that scar of yours! Always killing the mood!"
"Don't quarrel," Hermione said dully, rising from her knees. "Let's apparate. I don't want to stay here," she got to her feet and staggered somewhere to the side.
The boys exchanged glances.
"Shall we take Snape, too?" Ron asked carefully, picking up the sword of Gryffindor. "Harry, I think he's dead. What are we gonna do with him?"
"Not leave him here for a start," Harry hissed, looking cautiously at Hermione tottering a few feet away from them. "Grab him by the hand. Or I will if you like."
Ron chose not to take the initiative and only muttered:
"Creepy, right? Imagine if you got to that snake yourself?"
Harry nodded, wondering inwardly why he wasn't feeling the slightest bit of relief. Hardly because of Snape, although being around the former headmaster was more depressing than ever. A strange sensation – he took the professor's lifeless hand and caught himself thinking that he had never touched him before, even with a handshake. Only Snape had occasionally touched Harry, pulling him out of some places or pushing him into others. While doing so, he had always had the most disgusting expression on his face. Snape had looked with much greater affection even at Voldemort's snake. A strange thought flashed through the boy – now there was only Lupin left. If he were still alive… For some reason, Harry felt especially bad for Hermione.
Wandering along the intact part of the ravine in her stained white jacket, the girl was rummaging through the snowdrifts, looking for something. After the murder of an unknown number of dark wizards along with their leader, the white witch Hermione Granger was mentally paralysed and better left alone.
"Need any help?" Ron shouted uncertainly. A sense of growing anxiety suddenly returned to him. Who would have thought that victory would be so bleak? So… unvictorious.
"No, I've found it," Hermione picked up something from under her foot, gently shaking off the snow.
"Apparate! Now!" Harry bellowed.
"Hang on, Hermione just…" Ron began, but then he saw it too. "Hermione, run!"
From the cooling ashes that were already scattering around in the wind, a small vortex was forming, becoming darker and higher at a rapid rate.
Hermione screamed and rushed to her friends. Clutching at his scar, Harry fell on top of Snape.
"He's coming back, Ron! He's coming back!" he whispered in horror. "We must've got it wrong…"
But Ron wasn't listening. He darted towards Hermione and, grabbing her hand, pulled her back to their group. Luckily, the item that Hermione had found turned out to be Snape's wand – they managed to cast double shield charms and win themselves an extra couple of seconds. Just in time as the Lord had literally risen from the ashes. Similar to the way Draco's Boggart had done, but much more realistic and spectacular: a whirlwind of fresh ash suddenly turned into folds of black robes and two scarlet coals into slits of unblinking eyes. Raising his snake-like head, the Dark Lord silently waved his completely unharmed wand… Hermione knew what that meant, and that there was no escape from it. A wave of Fiendfyre rose up to the sky, rushing towards them as hordes of black monsters with red, coal-like eyes. That's whose demons had been imprisoned in the Hufflepuff Cup… Well, she had guessed that long ago.
"APPARATE!" Hermione shrieked.
Leaping over a windfall, she and Ron sprang towards Harry, collapsing on top of him and the professor. At the same time, a whole crowd of Inferi appeared behind the Lord, running along the scorched hollow. The surviving Death Eaters had prudently sent the puppets ahead. Be that as it may, Voldemort most definitely did not consider himself defeated, and it would be best to take his opinion very seriously. Having freed her hand with difficulty, Hermione waved her wand, feeling a breath of heat on her fingers. The black fire flashed in their eyes for a split second and disappeared. A large body of water materialised in front of them instead. Yelling with pain, Ron punched the thin coastal ice with his fist. Steam puffed out from his robes sleeve, quickly dissipating in the frosty air. It was quiet and empty on the shore of the half-frozen lake.