"Professor, we'll manage to defend Hogwarts, won't we?" Hermione pleaded.
The question was rather rhetorical and the addressing by his rank was a pure tribute. The professor had quit his job in the morning which had been, we must say, perfect timing as the school was rapidly ceasing to exist. They were half-way round the lake when the distant shore burst into blue flames and the Ravenclaw Tower did such a barrel roll in the sky that a natural seeker like Harry Potter would envy it. Though, Harry would envy anyone right now. However, wherever he was, he must have seen how the huge stone structure, torn from the thousand-year-old foundation with a loud rumble, rose into the air, dropping from its base multi-ton boulders bewitched from destruction, and performed Levicorpus. By the looks of it, the idea of the late Bellatrix about turning Hogwarts upside down had struck a deep chord in the Dark Lord's heart. The tower dangled for a moment in mid-air, then, starting from the inverted merlons, showered down in the form of the finest dust. This was a living nightmare.
A gloomy thin man in a heavy black cloak, a dishevelled girl instinctively pressed against him, and a red-haired boy, clutching his head either in horror or in search of the diadem that would be extremely useful right now, silently watched another House tower being turned into a neat mound. The man nodded, appreciating the beauty of the destructive spell.
"If there is anything left to defend," he answered the girl with a forgivable delay, then sighed and began to untie the straps of his Death Eater cloak.
It would have looked symbolic if he had simply tossed the cloak onto the path rather than folded it up in order to pocket it with Slytherin foresight. Hermione seemed to trust his leisured tactics. She had spent five seconds of rest after their hasty sprint along the shore digesting what they had seen and repeating 'Severus' five times. Apparently, the chant had worked as her gaze finally obtained comprehension at the same minute when Ron completely lost his patience. He didn't care anymore about Snape, Voldemort, the unidentified Horcrux and any other horrors of this world. Hogwarts was crumbling before his eyes, burying his friends and teachers under the rubble. He glanced at the forest, but the forest remained silent, which meant that the Order of the Phoenix had not yet made it through to their aid whilst the main forces of Voldemort's army had already intruded into the castle. Ron had to address Snape, although it was rather difficult for him. Even if he wanted to, he simply couldn't rearrange himself as quickly as Hermione or Harry; therefore, he was still tense and wary around the man.
"What are we waiting for, sir?" he shouted abruptly, unable to squeeze out of himself something more than 'sir' and holding his wand at the ready against his will. "Aren't we in a hurry?"
"I'm waiting for the dust to settle down. But you, Mr Weasley, are free to run wherever you please, if you are so eager to put your portrait next to Barnabas the Barmy," Snape gave the boy his signature derogatory look, continuing to hug Hermione reassuringly.
This embrace looked about as dreadful as the destruction of the tower. At least Voldemort had long been expected to start smashing Hogwarts, but the abnormal behaviour of Snape… Master at wriggling into favour! Look how he's grasping her! And Hermione's no better – she could stop clinging to the Horror of the Dungeons as though he was about to disappear and they'd all be toast without him. Ron was certain that he had never acted so foolishly, even under the influence of the love potion. It was necessary to rush towards the castle, not to each other! He wasn't jealous of Hermione, was he? Perfect timing! Perhaps, he shouldn't have sulked at her so much over Krum? Or had taken a fancy to Lavender? Well, whatever, now it was too late anyway. Not a big deal; let her date whoever she wants! But Snape?! In addition to his other dirty tricks he had pocketed their Hermione! The best Gryffindorian, by the way! What a Slytherin son of a… And now it was pointless to say anything! Four months of detention! How had they missed that? But who would have thought that Hermione… That anyone in their right mind…
Of course, nobody would be able to bring Hermione to reason now. Ah, he listened to Dumbledore; ah, he was always on our side; ah, he was so badly bitten! He repented, repented, repented – look into his honest eyes! Women! And that he'd been making their lives hell even when Dumbledore had still been alive, she forgot and forgave! Well, we'll see. The whole battle was still ahead, and Ron was determined not to let Snape wriggle out. If he was truly on their side, he should fight for Hogwarts too! The young man glared defiantly at the former headmaster. Killed Dumbledore and intends to do a runner? And tweedling Hermione into it? As if!
"Severus?" the little traitor whispered inquiringly.
The two-faced creature, who, as it turned out, had a first name, kissed her impudently on the top of her head, leaning trustingly against his shoulder, and patiently developed his thought addressed to Ron. Just to make fun of him, no doubt. Only Hermione knew that the professor could have other motives. An outside observer would not presume that there were several options.
"Calm down, Mr Weasley," Snape said with the maximum peacefulness for an acromantula. "While Potter is fulfilling his task, the rest of us will continue to die heroically for Hogwarts. With all our might. Noisily and spectacularly" he kissed Hermione again and added, looking at her: "You will not die. Only after me, but now it's unlikely to happen."
Ron's mouth dropped. He'd get used to it after a while, but so far all these kisses affected him worse than Crucio. Damn, Hermione! Could you please finally unglue yourself from him?!
The dust that had risen to the sky settled down a little, allowing them to distinguish, in general terms, the battlefield, the noise of which had only become fiercer since the destruction of yet another tower. The North Tower already lay in ruins opposite the newly formed mound, consisting of the ex-Ravenclaw Tower. The West One also did not appear in its usual place – a flock of harbourless owls flapped restlessly above its remains. However, all of this was to be expected – the enemy had begun to out-fight the defenders ever since Ron and Hermione had flown to Voldemort, and that had been a long time ago. Approximately as long as Dumbledore and Snape had allotted to Hogwarts in the first place.
"So, are we going?" Ron asked uncertainly in a lower tone. "Or did Professor Dumbledore assume that we need to do something else?"
"Alas," Snape reluctantly pulled Gryffindor's sword out of a snowdrift, into which it had been thrust obliquely. "Professor Dumbledore's fantasy ceased working somewhere at this stage. I believe I won't surprise you by saying that from now on everything depends on Potter. The Horcruxes were destroyed; Voldemort's dark plans are clearly evident. What remains for us is… Not so fast, Weasley! I understand that you are in an advantageous position: your family won't notice that someone is missing whilst the wizarding world will never forget your heroic death. But why run? Did you fail to notice the fall of the protective charms? We can simply apparate to the castle. However, it would be advisable to first see to where exactly we're apparating. We wouldn't want to set the Ravenclaw Tower as our destination, would we?"
Ron and Hermione nodded in unison. Ron chose not to mention that he had not yet retaken his test for the apparition licence.
"If you haven't changed your mind about helping Potter, no need to be a hero in the back row," Snape told him vindictively. "It won't be quick to make your way from here to the most interesting part on foot! Surely, Voldemort left the Astronomy Tower intact for a reason, therefore that's where we should go."
"Inside the tower?" Hermione asked, emboldened by the Gryffindor thirst for action and her personal reflexive desire to help Harry. "You think Voldemort's there?"
Ron shuddered at the double mention of the Dark Lord, from whom all of them, even the most self-assured, had just barely escaped alive. Snape winced disgustingly, but the power of love overcame sarcasm.
"No, no need to apparate inside the tower. The Lord could have cast his own protective charms over it. Let's apparate to its south gate – nothing's falling there yet," he clarified in an almost human voice. "Yes, as far as I know Voldemort, he should be around. Not least of all because this is the last surviving tower as the penultimate one has just been reduced to dust… Are you still here, Mr Weasley? I thought you were already force-feeding the Dark Lord with your Free-will Serum."
Ron had to wave his wand himself; Hermione didn't have to – her magical, physical and emotional powers were subject to a strict record. Snape hugged her close to him, covering her almost completely with the bleak darkness of his robes, although he could simply take her by the hand since he wanted to do the lady a favour so much. They apparated first. Hermione didn't even catch clearly at what moment, but suddenly clashing, yelling and screaming descended on her from all around and the first pair of spells (moreover, from opposite sides) smashed against the professor's shield charm.
"Moritas more," Severus uttered at the same instant, which, apparently, should have meant the end of the lyrical part.
The general cacophony of the battle was joined by the thud of bodies falling to the ground somewhere dangerously close to them. And yet again an abrupt transition. What a scoundrel! Hermione vowed inwardly that one day… preferably in this life… she would have time to pin him down somewhere peaceful so that at least once… without any fuss, blood and… Ouch! Petrificus Totalus! Protego! Stupefy! She'd be able! To kiss! Him! Properly! Bastard!
Ron, meanwhile, was trying to trace the trail of their apparition as taught by a ministerial instructor, but without much success. So many apparition tracks were intersecting over Hogwarts that the Dark Lord himself would be at a loss. Then the young man tried to, at least, calm the trembling of his hands by letting out a stream of curses dancing, for a while, on the tip of his tongue. With his ability for magical transportation, he could land, with equal success, in Africa or on Voldemort's head. But, of course, this was beyond the understanding of the school Know-It-All – how could one miss a place visible to the naked eye? As if they hadn't attended the apparition lessons together! As if her Prince Charming hadn't harassed her best (by the way!) friend with his idiotic quips all last year! It would be hilarious to get splinched before he'd managed to join the battle!
Ron would bet his bottom Sickle that Snape had left him behind not out of sheer forgetfulness, but as revenge for doubting him in front of a woman. Indeed, how could anyone doubt Severus Snape? For the last forty minutes it had been strictly forbidden. No, Hermione was most definitely under the influence of the dark wizard's Imperio, the Potions Master's Amortentia, prolonged insomnia and constant stress. She couldn't tolerate Snape on her own volition! To do so, one must be the supreme witch of all supreme witches… Though, she had killed Voldemort… Despite the professor not vouching for his sake, Ron decided to do his best to survive. In order to see what would happen to the most unthinkable miracle of the troubled times further on. To this wild combination of Gryffindor and Slytherin. And he had once been surprised that Percy had dated a Ravenclaw! Hmm…
Shame that Harry wasn't around to discuss the juiciest tattle of the day. And it would be merrier to fight together as well. What kind of business could he possibly have that neither he and Hermione nor Snape were needed? Was it so safe, simple and straightforward? Ron could hardly believe that. At this moment, he worried about his best friend more than anyone in the world. After all, their own role was understandable. There was even someone to take care of Hermione, so the responsibility for her well-being had imperceptibly fallen from Weasley's shoulders. But Harry… Ron spat on the snow. No, he didn't like the inexplicable disappearance of Potter in the least. That Slytherin Serpent was most certainly concealing something from them, adopting the headmastership style of his predecessor! Realising that he himself would soon be considered a deserter, Ron waved his wand and apparated at his own risk. He personally was not going to abandon Hogwarts and especially Hermione, no matter what Snape had promised her. Besides, only that bastard knew where to find Harry.
Apparating to the same point failed, but Ron found himself very close to the Astronomy Tower, where a wounded troll immediately tried falling on him. And Ronald instantly saved the first life – his own. Wingardium Leviosa proved to be equally good against trolls, magical Pensieves and other ponderous items. Having levitated in mid-air, the troll fell a few feet away. Encouraged by this success, Ron briskly bounced aside, ready to repeat all the other school topics he had covered after this very first charm in his life.
Artificial darkness, conjured by Voldemort, obscured the whole area, but it didn't interfere with the Inferi lurking around. The Death Eaters, also present in bulk, were not worried much about it either, shooting away and hitting straight. Good that Incendio, used to drive away the walking corpses, was illuminating Ron's path; otherwise, the only source of light would have been the burning ruins of the castle.
If it weren't for the white masks of his enemies and the cadaverous odour of their puppets, Ron wouldn't know who to aim at. Death Eaters, members of the Order of the Phoenix, relatives of the kids remaining at the school and wizards who simply hated the Dark Lord were apparating to the battlefield with equal frequency. The Death Eaters' faces were covered, but among his allies Ron happily recognised many: Shacklebolt, Lupin, Tonks…Whoa! Longbottom's grandma – Ron guessed it by the hat that looked exactly like Neville's Boggart's. Finally! Pity there was no time to exchange greetings rather than glances. On the other hand, there was so much noise that one could lose one's voice from shouting. Above their heads, something was constantly growling and squawking – it was dragons and hippogriffs fighting in the sky. Not to mention the high-pitched shrill of thestrals, whom everyone could see and hear now. Or the thundering of centaurs and the roaring of giants, both of which were making the earth tremble. Or the screeching of house-elves and the thudding of objects that the fighting wizards kept launching at each other.
Ron breathed in until his lungs hurt.
"HERMIONE!" he yelled with a timid hope.
"Over here, Ron!" she responded unexpectedly, although barely discernible.
He turned around and felt his feet rooting into the trampled muddy snow. Only the long-standing friendship made him move towards the girl's voice, fighting off evil vermin on his way. Hermione, of course, was trying to stay close to her boyfr… Nope, Ron couldn't bring himself to even think this word. So, to her Snape. But to hell with that Snape, the boy forgot about him instantly, seeing Voldemort. He didn't have to look for him even if he wanted to. The Dark Lord wasn't even thinking of hiding for strategic reflections on how to catch Potter in this mess. Perhaps, he didn't need Harry that much after all? For the time being the Lord was quite satisfied with enthusiastically destroying Hogwarts and exterminating its defenders. His Avada Kedavras were glowing almost constantly, replacing the green gleam of the maliciously blackened Dark Mark, hanging in the sky. Ron had only heard Hermione, but still couldn't see her and therefore ran forward, focusing on the reflections of the Killing Curses, flashing occasionally on the blade of Gryffindor's sword.
This weapon, atypical for magic combat, turned out to be a pretty useful item. Albeit a heavy one. As a master at defence against all kinds of dark arts, Snape had promptly found a use for it, successfully chopping any Inferi that came to hand. Operating the sword and his wand, occupied by curses and charms, he, of course, moved faster than Ron. Swiftly as if being late for a teachers' meeting and crushingly like a black tornado. At the same time, he was managing to secure Hermione. He faltered only once, blurring the clear lines of the Killing Curse in mid-air. Damn, all these identical cloaks and masks… The opponent had recognised him first and although he had directed his wand towards Snape, he hesitated to use it. The best servants of the Dark Lord, practically unbeatable.
"Severus…"
"Lucius…"
Not shaking hands, they quickly parted, hissing in unison: 'I did not see you!' Took a couple of steps, then turned around, expecting a strike in the back. Smirked to their synchronicity of experienced traitors.
"I'm glad you are…"
"Me too, for you."
An ardent Slytherin friendship, trusting and unprincipled. Hermione pushed past them sideways, concerned about Professor McGonagall, who was in great danger. Not paying any attention to the girl, who had unleashed Fiendfyre on him not so long ago, Lucius whispered:
"Have you seen Draco? Narcissa and I can't find him anywhere…"
"I haven't."
Malfoy hesitated for a moment, but nevertheless said:
"Severus, if you see him…"
"All right," Snape winced but nodded.
'Oh, of course! Last thing we need is to start catching Draco!' Hermione thought. But Lucius didn't know about Imperio! Should she tell him or not? It would be better if the Malfoys took their offspring and disapparated to somewhere. If the little serpent dies during the battle, she'd be the one to blame. Hermione bit her lip.
"I shall not forget," Malfoy promised, pale and exhausted.
"You'd better not," Snape, exhausted and pale, didn't stint on the poison in his smirk. But instead of saying goodbye he suddenly snarled: "Thank you."
Malfoy froze in confusion, wondering to what this gratitude should be attributed, then, apparently, realised and nodded, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Mister Malfoy," Hermione couldn't restrict herself any longer, "Draco was at the Astronomy Tower, helping Gryffindors. He's probably still with them now. But don't be alarmed when you see him, he's under –"
Lucius' eyes widened in horror, but Snape had already grabbed the girl's hand and dragged her along, hissing:
"Let's go! How long are you going to court a Death Eater?"
'For the rest of my life, if it's you…' No, wrong answer. Nevertheless, it hadn't been her who stopped to have a courteous chat!
"He's your friend! And he's looking for his son!"
"So what? I should kill him for this?"
And how could one understand Slytherins?!
"I just wanted to tell him where Draco is and what happened to him!"
They were practically running again, skirting the Astronomy Tower and fighting off the Death Eaters, who were at a loss, seeing Snape. It wasn't really convenient to talk, but Hermione simply couldn't bear yet another miscomprehension at such a moment.
"You insane, Hermione?" her unpredictable professor snapped. "You said where he was, and that's enough! Once together, they'll figure it out! Lucius is a Death Eater. And a powerful dark wizard. Draco's a Death Eater, too. Lucius will kill you for Draco! Meaning, I'll have to fight him off. Do I need it?"
Snape spoke in abrupt, harsh phrases as he kept reciting the offensive spells non-verbally, casting them on the go.
"And why'd he want to kill me?" Hermione was beginning to find it tiresome that he always discovered a reason for her to be killed.
Without stopping, Severus lowered the sword as there were no Inferi left in the available radius – in a fit of temper, he had driven them away behind the nearest ruins. He answered more evenly, in the most boring teaching tone:
"Because, my dearest girl, it's wrong to cast dark magic curses onto people. If even I understand that, in his right mind, Draco would have never performed those feats that Voldemort spoke about, then his family understands it even more. I doubt that anyone other than you would have thought of placing such an Imperio on him. Am I right?"
Hermione almost dropped her wand, turned pink and beamed: he had called her…
"Say that again," she pleaded. "You've never said it to me before!"
Not once in sixteen hours…
Severus' face was as puzzled as Malfoy's after his unexpected gratitude. He even slowed his stride.
"Never said that Imperius is a dangerous dark magic curse?"
But then, as always at the wrong time, they saw Voldemort. Snape shoved Hermione behind his back and their conversation stayed unresolved.
The Dark Lord, who had been vigorously fighting three people at once, by that point managed to overcome Alastor Moody. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick hastily teamed up. While the Head of Ravenclaw, at lightning speed, was setting up a tricky defence that dumbfounded even Voldemort, Minerva turned her head, hearing a threadbare 'Avada Kedavra' delivered by a very familiar voice. The one that had shortened Professor Dumbledore's life and whose intonations Hermione Granger fondly kept in her memory. Hermione, by the way, was nearby, trying to reach out with a Body Freezing curse to Alecto Carrow, who was attacking her mercilessly. McGonagall's best student was rather good, but Minerva chose not to ask her (or anyone in general) for help. There was no point – Mad-Eye was already lying lifeless in the snow, and Filius and her were about to share his fate. It had been bad enough that they had to battle against Voldemort, but now Severus Snape, the most renowned of his servants, came tearing to his Master's rescue. Traitor! He could at least have the decency to be dressed like the rest of the Death Eaters, but no! The former headmaster came to kill his former staff and students, wearing his usual teaching robes. Long black hair, prickly mocking glare – nothing had changed since their last meeting about two hours ago. He, as if on purpose, was forcing the defenders to fight against a man who looked like their own. The headmistress tried her best to conceal her emotions. She only turned a little pale, but it was imperceptible in the poor light.
"You've stolen the sword of Gryffindor, too!" she exclaimed against her will.
Whilst everyone was still regaining their senses from him stealing Dumbledore's wand, the insidious defector had gutted the Sorting Hat!
"Villainous traitor!" McGonagall shouted, hurt.
Without any further hesitation, she flicked her wand, sending a spell towards Snape. A warning Impedimenta as she hadn't managed to overstep her damn Gryffindor nobleness all the same. Oddly enough, the Dark Lord suddenly shied back in amazement and added an even more disagreeable epithet to the word 'traitor'. He hurled an Avada Kedavra at Snape, distracting himself from the stumbled Flitwick. Without saying a word, or rather, not having any time to say a word, Snape bounced up, dodging all the spells at once. It was even more peculiar than in the corridor on the seventh floor – he simply hovered in mid-air for a few seconds and then lowered himself back to the ground. Voldemort's Killing Curse struck Alecto Carrow, who hadn't been expecting to be attacked from that side. Flitwick jumped to his feet and sent several offensive spells towards the Dark Lord, who repulsed them all and called Snape a vile bastard. Too astounded by what was happening, Professor McGonagall was lost for words. This was rather inappropriate, considering that Voldemort's next lunge was unexpectedly aimed at her.
"Crucio!"
"Protego!" Snape promptly repelled the favourite curse of his former master.
"Thank you… Severus," the headmistress said, astounded even more.
Stepping over the corpse of Mad-Eye Moody, her predecessor fiercely directed his wand at the Dark Lord and replied to McGonagall with an equal fury.
"I didn't steal the sword," his eyes flashed with incinerating rage. "I've become so close to your Gryffindor, while everyone was trying to drive me to an early grave, that I simply took what was mine. But don't even hope, Minerva, that I'll agree to burden myself with your House as well in case of your premature death!"
Hermione, who had unexpectedly lost her adversary, blinked in surprise and, with red-and-gold fire in her eyes, rushed straight into the middle of the chaos.
"Professor McGonagall!" she shouted, approaching the teachers with her wand at the ready. "This was Professor Dumbledore's plan and –"
"BE GONE!"
Ouch! As a matter of fact, she had pretty good shield charms, which had even survived two non-verbal spells. So they would, most likely, endure the Lord's attack as well. Besides, among all present she was the only one who had actually killed Voldemort! Even if temporarily. Bastard! She hadn't given him any promises! So, he just had… no… right… to keep… her… away!
Voldemort was eager to inflict a terrible vengeance on the brazen girl, very eager indeed. But Snape stubbornly prevented him from doing so whilst continuing to push Hermione out of the circle of attackers. Would she have to bow down to his demand? If he gets distracted by her and won't have time to protect himself from the Lord… But why wasn't she allowed to help? She wasn't alone… this time. Surely, the four of them together would manage better! She was a powerful witch; he had trained her himself!
Hermione bumped once more into restrictive charms cast by Severus. She would definitely breach them again, if it hadn't been for Stupefy striking her from behind. She had no one to blame but herself – focusing on Voldemort, she had forgotten there were a lot of other enemies around. If it weren't for Ron, who had leapt out of nowhere, the Dark Lord would have been avenged. Catching Snape's eloquent glare – a hundred points from Gryffindor and sorting flobberworms without gloves – Ron interpreted it with a rare understanding and pulled Hermione aside.
"Crazy?! Wanna die?! Harry has to kill that freak, not you! Besides, he's got a Horcrux we know nothing about! So, he's still immortal right now! And Harry has a special wand and the prophecy!"
The girl shook her hurt head; her defocused eyes stared at the figure of the Dark Lord illuminated by the flashes of Avada. The Lord continued to successfully fight three of the best wizards of Hogwarts.
"Ron!" Hermione shouted back – both from the sudden dismal realisation and the hubbub interfering with her speaking. "Harry! Will never! Manage! To defeat him! No way! We need to find another solution! Just look at what he's doing!"
But it was rather inconvenient for Ron to look at the Lord as he was struggling to defend himself from Inferi. Sadly, Amicus Carrow, who had sort of taught them this business once, had died some time ago and therefore could not prompt him with anything. Snape was unavailable too. Only one thing was clear – Voldemort was alive and wielding dark magic superbly. But he had been like that for a long time. Only with more Horcruxes.
"We need a plan!" Hermione yelled next to his ear, not stopping sending Incendio into the noisy darkness that was stretching bony, rotten hands towards them from all around. The sickeningly sweet smell of decay made her feel nauseous, as did the realisation of hopelessness, but the girl hesitated to use Fiendfyre, fearing to hit her allies. Besides, the spell required a lot of energy.
"Should we run to Dumbledore's portrait? Or let's think what else could be a Horcrux."
Ron did not answer – without the diadem, bright ideas refused to appear in his head in such darkness. However, he believed that both options were equally a dead-end. If Dumbledore hadn't told them anything new before and nothing had been known about the seventh Horcrux, why would it change now? Moreover, they couldn't leave the battlefield anyway – the Inferi were categorically refusing to let them go. Hermione also fell silent for a while and started to climb the fragment of a tower wall in order to escape the lumbering corpses. Although, she was rather clumsy herself, squeezing her magic wand in one hand. How many of these freaks were still around?! Someone yanked her leg. Hermione lost her footing and was almost dragged down from the wall, but in the next instant the clingy dead man was swept away by a fiery wave that had rushed beneath her. So, 'Fiendfyre is not a directed spell', huh? Hermione chuckled and shook the scorched hand of the Inferius off her trouser leg. Thank you, Severus…
"Say whatever you want, but I think Snape… Professor Snape knows something else," Ron puffed, climbing next to her. "About Harry, I mean."
"Would be nice," Hermione did not argue, looking apprehensively at three black-cloaked and white-masked figures, approaching them from the darkness on brooms.
There was no point in contending Ron as they would hardly be able to learn the truth in the current situation. However, Hermione doubted pretty much that her cunning Slytherin had another ace up his sleeve. Since he'd attacked the Lord, then all their cards were laid out on the table. Except for Harry. What had Severus told him to make Harry disappear without a trace? The girl had no answer. Snape was still struggling with Voldemort whilst she and Ron sat, cut off from the world, on the rubble of Gryffindor Tower in the middle of an Inferi sea and all they could do was to shower the grisly puppets with Incendio. And what her professor would certainly never forgive was a sudden Legilimens aimed at him, provoked by irrepressible Gryffindor curiosity. He was already having a hard time.
Now, being on an elevation, Ron and Hermione could watch the fight with Voldemort from slightly above. So far the Dark Lord was unharmed, but the wizards attacking him remained alive and kicking as well. The snow under them had evaporated, and an almost regular circle of scorched ground defined the zone of action of the most lethal spells. The crowd around this area thinned dramatically as everyone feared sharing the fate of Alecto Carrow. Gradually narrowing the circle, Flitwick, Snape and McGonagall were creeping closer and closer to the old enemy, but he kept occasionally tossing one of them back. Not that three against one was a fair duel, but then again none of them was keen on having a duel at all. It was necessary to simply crush the evildoer, at least somehow. But the Lord seemed rather invincible and was striking mercilessly, barely giving the professors a chance to bounce aside. Most of all, Voldemort was angry with Severus, but, unfortunately, constant meddling with the Dark Lord's affairs was practically the main duty of Snape.
"I'm glad you are back, Severus," McGonagall admitted cautiously as soon as they had a free second. "Better late than never. I hope at least something will be forgiven for this…"
She spoke sincerely, albeit sadly. However, Snape, unlike Draco Malfoy, was not under the influence of an Imperius Curse, so he did not rush to thank her but frowned and said nothing. In the bright flashes of spells, it became noticeable that the former headmaster had managed to receive not only the sword but also a suspicious scar on his neck. And he certainly didn't want to expose himself to Voldemort again, who had hissed ominously 'That's unlikely' as a counter to Minerva's last remark.
"I'm very glad too, Severus," the Lord uttered spitefully. "I see you are alive… again. And again…"
"Same as you, Tom," Snape retorted, deflecting a series of spells directed at him.
Crucio, Avada Kedavra, a peculiar Sectumsempra, then something totally incomprehensible… With the arrival of his favourite pet, Voldemort had generously expanded his dark-magic range. Though, the sword of Gryffindor was really good against malicious curses: Severus was successfully cutting the beams of Avada Kedavra with it. Shame he hadn't practiced in advance…
Voldemort, in his turn, repulsed a few spells aimed at him and tossed Flitwick and McGonagall, creeping up from the sides, a few paces away.
"I'm always alive," he told Snape. "And I shall be very pleased to kill you once again. It seems that I was far too humane in my previous attempts, but now I promise to put my heart and soul into it."
Cautiously circling Alecto's dead body, Snape smiled and that alone was frightening enough.
"Your soul?" he repeated softly, casting a directed Fiendfyre towards Voldemort. "Your soul is deader than dead, my Lord, and you know it. All that remains in you is a useless shard!"
A return wave of the Fiendfyre (a non-directed one) rolled back, but Severus was ready for this – thanks to the fourth Horcrux and Hermione. The runes on his wand flared brightly, deflecting the wave. The Lord was not surprised. He silently flicked his wand, and the unfortunate phoenix feather sucked the charmed fire back. McGonagall and Flitwick changed their tactics and began sneaking on Voldemort from the leeward side.
"Severus, my boy, don't judge what you don't understand," the Dark Lord mocked. "Better remember why we are all gathered here. I need Potter. Give him to me and I shall leave Hogwarts alone," he glanced at the battered castle and smirked.
What was there to leave alone? Unless the Slytherin dungeons, but even that was a stretch.
Snape became alarmed, feeling professional interest.
"I can understand the Horcruxes," he uttered, catching the surprised looks of McGonagall and Flitwick with vain pleasure. "But why do you need Potter? He's a mediocre wizard. Absolute zero, worth nothing."
Voldemort narrowed his red eyes, especially bright in the dark.
"Believe me, I will find a use for him. And since all the headmasters have so conveniently come to me for negotiations –" he broke off, almost knocking the wand out of McGonagall's hand. Having taken her animagus form, the witch had leapt dangerously close to the Dark Lord, regained her true form and almost managed to cast a spell onto him.
"Since all the living-for-now headmasters are present," the Lord repeated, throwing Snape off half of his dark-magic leap, "I would like to warn you one last time. Before everything of no use to me turns to dust. Give Potter to me. Or I shall find him myself. In a less labour-consuming way."
Severus prudently kept silent, knowing when the Lord was close to losing his patience. He simply cast another Crucio towards the former Master, though without much hope for success. Minerva, who remembered the Dark Lord as the Head Boy during her first year, was less ceremonious with him.
"Give the boy to you?!" the venerable witch outraged and then, in a nutshell, described to Tom Riddle his active participation in the heinous intimate life of Salazar and his pet. Even Snape had never been called such words. Even behind his back. Therefore, the Slytherin professor cautiously took a step back, rightly expecting something extraordinary from the Lord.
"No, no one will give you Harry Potter!" Professor McGonagall finished angrily; her spectacles flashing expectedly.
"Suit yourself," Voldemort uttered very quietly and flicked his wand sharply, making it clear that the peace negotiations were over.
The phoenix feather splashed the Fiendfyre in all directions at once; the professors rushed to catch it, horrified, whilst Voldemort indifferently soared into the sky.
So, what's next? After him? Away from him? McGonagall and Flitwick were successfully finishing off the bewitched flame and did not need Snape's help, but… Slytherin? Gryffindor? Severus sighed, hastily reducing the magic sword to pocket size – Godric's relic was too heavy for flying.
"Need a broom, Professor?" someone asked him from behind. Snape turned around.
Hermione, dealing with the last of the three Death Eaters on the rubble of the tower, had conveniently sent a Stupefy into a Welsh Green chasing Ron. That had allowed Ronald to fly safely through the narrow gap between the dragon fire and the Fiendfyre and reach Snape. The professor stared at the boy in amazement. He would have thought that Weasley was joking if it weren't for the expression on his face. Ronald was clearly sorry to part with a valuable trophy, but he understood that others needed it more. Even though, seeing Voldemort taking off a few seconds ago, he had learnt that one could fly without any broom at all. Gryffindor! His desire to help the 'beloved' teacher go after the Dark Lord was so touching! It was inconvenient to refuse. Besides, the broom would save Severus some energy.
"I do," Snape said sharply, snatching the shaft out of the hands of the thoroughly battered boy. "Tell McGonagall to give five points to Gryffindor."
Ron was lost for words, but the former teacher required no reply from him as he was already pursuing his Lord. Reaching him almost at the top of the Astronomy Tower to the surprise, annoyance and some sadistic joy of Voldemort, Snape blocked his way. Potter was still nowhere to be seen. Though, everything, so far, was according to Dumbledore's plan. And the next step of it was supposed to be the retreat and surrender of Hogwarts. However, the defenders on the ground were fighting fiercely and would continue to do so regardless of the instructions received by a dubious character such as Severus Snape.
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort was flawless as always – moment, gesture, intonation…
The duel was poorly visible from below, although darkness was covering only the base of the surviving tower while the pre-Christmas winter sky remained cloudy grey. But the two wizards flew too high, and the dragons, hippogriffs and brooms scurrying below them constantly blocked the view. However, those who were fighting on the ground had no time to stare up anyway. Voldemort was alive and that was clearly indicated by the surrounding darkness and the Mark sneering from above. And that was enough.
For everyone except Hermione! No Harry, no Severus… and Ron had rushed away on a broom without saying a word. Men! Protectors! Sheesh! Taking a moment's respite with the darkness obscuring her from the trolls running below, Hermione wearily sat down on the cold rock, just won from the Inferi and Death Eaters. She put her wand down, exercising the stiff wrist of her right hand that still remembered the fracture. No, one faithful friend still remained near her. The girl looked gratefully into the devoted, eloquent eyes of… Crookshanks. Shanks, soaking wet and filthy like all of them, had already managed to get his ear ripped in the battle, but he bravely climbed to his mistress at her observation post.
"My poor little mite," the Gryffindorian melted at his appearance, stretching her dirty, scratched hands towards the enormous, belligerent half-Kneazle. "It's just you and me now, but they'll all be back. You'll see! Are you hungry? I bet you also haven't eaten since yesterday, right? Well, don't worry. As soon as we win, I'll feed you whatever you want. And for now, here, have a drink of this. You'll feel better straight away – we've checked it many times!"
Hermione habitually uncorked the vial of Restoration Potion and measured a couple of drops into the cat's gaping maw. Crookshanks knowingly swallowed the brew, gratefully twitched his healing ear, briefly rubbed his head against the girl's shoulder and, with a triumphant 'Mia-o-ow!', leapt on the head of a troll running past. The fate of the troll, yelling and scurrying away into the darkness, was settled. Males and their war games! Hermione, out of frustration, cast a Stupefy at a Death Eater flying by, took a sip from the vial and squinted, trying to distinguish what was happening in the sky above the Astronomy Tower. Most of all, it looked like fireworks: multi-coloured flashes illuminated the battlefield from above every now and again. Many wizards, fighting on the ground, occasionally raised their heads to stare, but hardly anyone could consistently name all the spells they saw. Green – Avada Kedavra, orange – Incendio, black – Fiendfyre… So, Severus was on the right. Nope, already on the left. No, seemed to be on the right again…
From this distance, it was impossible to make out even the broom, let alone the faces. All Hermione could see were two unclear dots. After all, no offence to Severus, the two dark wizards were very similar: thin, black-robed – try to differentiate between them! But no matter whose wand would be knocked out at such a height; it'd be a long way to fall. Crazy hope flashed through Hermione – if Severus managed to throw the Lord from up there, maybe Harry wouldn't have to… She just couldn't imagine that a wizard, with Horcruxes or not, taking a tumble from cloud level, would simply dust himself off and walk away.
Just don't think about Professor Dumbledore! Severus has a wand and a broom. Besides, he's not terminally cursed and doesn't intend to die! Still, she should have kissed him! Fool! Hermione quickly lost track of the spells streaming overhead. The last one she recognised was Sectumsempra that she had seen once performed by Malfoy. Though, Draco had presented a rather pale version. Voldemort's (or Severus'?) blazed half the sky. After that there were some incomprehensible blue whirlwinds and black arrows.
Hermione nervously squeezed her wand; her trained memory reminded her that the professor had told her that he'd last only a few minutes against Voldemort. That's enough, pull back! It was clear that the freed Lord would immediately start demolishing and dissipating something else, but a minute more, a minute less… The duel was rapidly moving to its conclusion. Severus (that time it was definitely him, judging by the streams of black flame pouring down on him) began to retreat. Apparently, he had also depleted the reserves of knowledge acquired by any means possible. He was casting offensive spells less and less often and switched to covering himself with shield charms instead. He couldn't reach Voldemort but did not want to leave him alone either. Fly away from there! However, the Lord had serious intentions too and kept pushing the enemy down, pressing him against the tower wall, not allowing him to slip away. In the next instant Hermione's heart skipped a beat – a small object separated from the lower dot and rushed towards the ground. Oh, no! He's lost his wand! Ah, just the broom! Remind her to kill him later, if Voldemort fails…
If, while fighting on the ground, Severus had not pushed her away so categorically whilst being so suicidal himself, the girl wouldn't resist to also taking to the air. Though, he'd certainly lose his temper – he knew her flying skills perfectly well… However, if he didn't withdraw himself from there in the next minute, she'd have to fly. She needed to obtain a broom. The one she had knocked a Death Eater from seemed to have fallen somewhere under the rubble. The second thing she needed was an offensive curse. Without ceasing to watch the sky, Hermione pulled the sheet, torn from the black notebook, out of her pocket. If memory served her right, there was the hand movement of Sectumsempra on the back of it.
"Lumos!"
The girl began to carefully study the pattern by the light of her wand. After all, she had managed to dumbfound the Dark Lord with her sudden appearance once before. So, why not try again? She could dive abruptly, as Harry had suggested, from out of the clouds when no one was expecting it. Severus would kill her. Sectum… Salazar! Was he deliberately inventing such incredibly difficult movements of the wand?!
However, she had no time to do anything as the wizards, circling above the top of the Astronomy Tower melted by dragons, suddenly changed the course of their actions. They stopped hurling deadly spells at each other and landed on the merlons on opposite sides of the fighting platform of the tower.
'Careful, sweetheart, the embrasures there have already been broken! Ron almost fell out of one.'
"You wait, Severus, I'll definitely kill you! A bit later."
Hermione would be very surprised to know that she had said this in unison with Voldemort.
The Dark Lord flicked his wand, separating himself from the whole world (moreover from Snape) with a sparkling dome – an enlarged semblance of the sphere that had recently guarded his Nagini. At the same time, he did not forget to keep an eye on the insidious traitor lest he decided to use the sword of Gryffindor again. But Severus only shrugged and sat down on an embrasure to catch his breath, prudently moving away from the edge. Oh! That was the very same embrasure. He would never forget that spot. However, he had no strength either to move or be amazed at the bad omen. The professor grimaced, and, just like Hermione a few minutes earlier, exercised his right wrist. Then rubbed his left forearm – the vile Slytherin Tom Riddle had also been fighting the magic duel dishonestly, making Severus' mark burn him at the wrong time so that the former servant had almost fainted and involuntarily let go of the broom. Good that he hadn't dropped his wand. Not everyone had Potter's talent for flying no-handed on a broom, given that at the same time it was necessary to escape the curses of the most powerful dark wizard. Never mind, Potter might have his chance to shine. Snape grinned grimly, watching the Lord with interest.
"Your half an hour is up," Voldemort said from the magic sphere, standing on a merlon of the Astronomy Tower so that everyone could see him from the darkness. And everyone could hear him as well, although he hissed without raising his voice in the least.
Had he given them half an hour? Severus and Hermione would like to know, what for? Again they'd missed something!
"And I still don't see Harry Potter," the Lord stated the obvious.
Ah, same old story… As a matter of fact, Potter had a habit of sneaking up on people in the Invisibility Cloak, but Voldemort didn't need to know such details. Snape shivered. It was uncomfortable and freezing to sit on the windswept tower, waiting for Potter. Especially in sweaty robes. The wind swept snow into Severus' hair, biting his neck, but the professor could not afford the luxury of a warming charm as he needed to conserve his energy. He breathed on his hands, not taking his eyes off the Dark Lord, then pulled his sleeves over his numb fingers – he didn't want to drop his wand. The boy could take his time as the urgency had gone: Hogwarts below was a smoking ruin. However, knowing Potter, Severus had no doubt that the Gryffindorian would certainly come to the Lord to die, bowing to his 'chosenness'. But Professor Snape always felt better and more at ease without Harry, and he never wanted to see the boy. Particularly right now. If, for some paradoxical reason, the Boy-Who-Must-Not-Live had decided to run away, at least Severus wouldn't have to make sure that he honestly tumbled off the Astronomy Tower as well. Nasty job, quite nasty. His mark was hurting like hell.
"I'm here," a low voice rasped.
Oh, here we go!
Voldemort flinched, turning sharply. Snape, not being at all surprised, moved deeper into the shadow of a merlon – Slytherin.
The boy, of course, was without his magic cloak, making it easier to aim at him – Gryffindor! Sure, if you have to die, do it with a bang. Good that he, at least, had brought his wand with him to make it look like a proper duel. In other respects, the last chance of the wizarding world looked rather pitiful – ragged, dirty, deathly pale. A broom with a broken handle clasped in his hand. And the lenses of his glasses cracked yet again. Had he been battling through the crowd from somewhere? Inconceivable: Potter, whose major objective was to find Voldemort, and whom Voldemort himself was desperately looking for, had been the last one to find the Dark Lord, having to risk his life on the way. The chance of asking him where the Salazar he had been was fat, but the main thing was that he'd arrived. The picture was crystal clear. All pieces of the puzzle were now in their place – Potter, the Lord, two wands with the tail feathers of the same phoenix... If Dumbledore secreted something else or had made a mistake, he'd have only himself to blame.
Voldemort silently jumped off the crenellation, allowing the victim to enter his dome. The trap slammed shut. How could one get out of this magic sphere? Though, what difference would it make? Snape ceased looking at the boy and glanced down to where defenders were also risking their lives. Potter wasn't looking at him either; he could hardly perceive anyone other than the Dark Lord at this moment. Severus abruptly waved his wand, quietly leapt off the outer edge of the battlement and begun sliding along the smoky wall of the tower, completely invisible – black on black.
"Harry Potter," Voldemort mouthed, resembling his recently deceased pet by voice, manner and predatory look. "And I had almost decided that you couldn't care less about Hogwarts and all your friends."
Harry did not reply. What could he say, really? That Hogwarts was gone while his friends were down there, under a crossfire of unforgivable curses, getting maimed, expecting the fulfilment of the legendary prophecy from him? Although, no, they didn't expect anything from him and that was one of the reasons he loved them for: they would give both the victory and a happy future of the whole wizarding world to keep him alive. And that was why he must die now – for them.
Voldemort waited another second for an answer, then shrugged and pulled another wand from a sleeve of his robes – a longer one, with a thickened and slightly curved handle.
"You did not think that I would be stupid enough to go down the same road, did you?" the Dark Lord asked, noticing a hint of bewilderment on the face of his enemy. "This time, Potter, it's just you and me, no Priori Incantatem."
There was no point trying to guess where he had obtained a second wand. Perhaps one of the faithful Death Eaters had readily lent it to his Master, or a slain adversary could no longer resist the darkest wizard taking his weapon in order to destroy the last hope of the wizarding world. The fact remained that, not having received the Elder Wand from Snape, Voldemort had decided to be content with another one, abandoning the exclusivity of his own in favour of the absence of brother ties between the twin cores. That was to be expected. However, the Dark Lord did not know that be it the Elder Wand, his own, or someone else's, he was still bound to win.
Harry was surprised at the leisurely flow of his thoughts – the time of panic and heart-and-soul twisting fear had passed. However, instead of raising his wand, his hand darted towards his chest, pulling the striped Gryffindor scarf aside and slipping into the inner pocket of his robes. A second later a golden ball the size of a walnut fluttered on his palm.
If the Dark Lord experienced amazement at the mysterious behaviour of his enemy, he did not express it in any way – partly due to the lack of eyebrows that he could raise questioningly.
"So, Potter, you are close to meeting your end."
That's right. If the Snitch should open 'at the close', as promised, then this was the moment. Harry closed his eyes, pressing the winged ball to his lips. The Snitch clicked open, revealing a black stone gleaming in the dim winter light. At the same instant, the furious words of the Killing Curse pierced the air:
"Avada Kedavra!"
A second, another…
…There were no green flashes penetrating through his eyelids. Having waited a bit longer, Harry opened his eyes and saw his mother…
Looking like a reflection haunting Harry from the Mirror of Erised rather than the pale, incorporeal ghosts living in Hogwarts, she seemed bright and real, but, at the same time, absolutely untouchable. Her thick, dark-red hair was fluttering in the December wind as if she were flesh and blood. A dim glow that reminded Harry of the warm light of the castle's torches was emanating from her, making Lily Potter heavenly beautiful.
"Have no fear, Harry," her voice sounded so familiar as though she had never left him. This was probably symbolic – she had been with him at the very beginning and would be at the very end. 'Dumbledore would say that this is the power of love,' Harry thought for some reason.
"I don't," he whispered, puzzled that Voldemort's spell hadn't reached him yet. Glancing beyond his mother, he saw that the path of the green beam, emanating from the Dark Lord's wand, was blocked by two men.
Having imperceptibly shifted to the side, Voldemort sent a couple more curses at the dumbfounded Harry, but the two men blocked them as well. The Dark Lord (for the first time in his life?) stepped back, making the men laugh. Then they turned to Harry and he was surprised to recognise his father and godfather.
"You've done well, buddy!" his father said encouragingly, ignoring the Dark Lord – now James Potter could afford such luxury. "Don't worry about the Killing Curse, we'll protect you from it!"
"Yeah, that's the least we can do," Sirius confirmed with a very Black-like smile. "Don't think about us either, Harry! We'll gladly come to you again later on, and for now you should focus on the duel."
Harry focused, which was expressed by his jaw dropping whilst he, petrified, kept looking at his dear phantoms hardly noticing his invincible adversary behind them. He simply did not know what to do. More precisely, he knew 'what' but had no idea 'how' to achieve it. He had thought it would be easier, and had already thrown all the thoughts out of his head, closing his eyes in order to die. And now the thoughts poppled in his head so rapidly and swiftly that his scar almost split. What did Dumbledore want? Why did he tell him to open the Snitch at the close? Was it really necessary? Harry felt that to answer these questions he could do with the help of Ravenclaw's Diadem, Professor Snape, Hermione Granger and the entire library of Hogwarts, if it were still intact. Not to mention the portrait of Dumbledore himself, as a matter of fact.
The tragedy of a suicidal death at the hands of the Dark Lord instantly faded against the background of another problem – Harry had suddenly obtained an effective weapon against Voldemort. A real weapon that was better than the Elder Wand: the power of love, thrown to him from the other side of death. All those he'd lost in this war had reappeared to protect him from the Dark Lord. The story was repeating with the only difference being that Harry no longer needed to win or save himself. But dying immediately became less scary. Although it appeared that he could not do so. As well as he could not tell his loved ones, in front of the Lord, that this was exactly what he needed to do.
Strangely enough, the Dark Lord was in no hurry to help the Not-Dying-Boy with it. Impartially, but not at all aggressively, Voldemort was playing with his magic wand, staring at Potter through the widening row of the dead wizards, one glance at which was making Harry ready to burst into tears. Since there was only one end anyway, he'd prefer it to happen right away, without any delay. Why had Dumbledore arranged such torture for him a minute before his death?
Exactly, why? Voldemort seemed to be wondering about this too, but the incorporeal guests arriving at the top of the Astronomy Tower were mysteriously silent, fearing to distract Harry. Cedric Diggory, Alastor Moody – Harry had no idea that Mad-Eye had been killed… For a split second the boy closed his eyes in horror. If in the next moment he saw Ron, Hermione or Lupin, he'd simply run and jump from the tower. He wouldn't be able to bear it!
"Funny trick, Potter! I can even guess who gave you that little item," Voldemort said, bored. "How long are we going to stand like this while my servants are destroying Hogwarts?"
Harry shivered in the icy wind and opened his eyes. The Dark Lord was right – it was time to do something. But what?
"Try 'Avada Kedavra', we'll give you some space," Sirius prompted readily. "Strike until you make a direct hit."
"Better use 'Stupefy', it's enough to simply throw him from the tower," advised James. "Avada might be too hard for you, Harry."
"Or cast 'Sectumsempra'," Lily sighed sadly. "There is such a curse. It's simpler than 'Avada', but almost as lethal. Don't be afraid, you can use it once. There is no other way."
'Mum, this is not a way either!' Harry wanted to shout. 'I can neither avenge you, nor save my friends – I can't do bloody anything!'
How low they all thought of him, believing that he was too weak, either hesitating or not wanting to fight! Oh, he hated Voldemort so much that he'd hurl Stupefy or Sectumsempra at him without batting an eye. He'd even manage an 'Avada Kedavra' right now, no doubt. But that wasn't the problem, dear Gryffindorians. Therefore, having opened his eyes, Harry stared with the desperate hope at the one single figure, who had appeared last and was standing in the silence, unlike the others. He wanted to receive at least a hint of a sign but was also afraid that the Dark Lord might suspect a conspiracy between them. Professor Dumbledore turned to Harry so that Voldemort wouldn't see the tears flowing down his face and meaningfully glared at the broken broom, lying at Harry's feet.
Of course, he could take off! But… what about the dome?
The answer came on its own accord as soon as Harry, against his will, glanced at the spot where Albus Dumbledore had died. In the widened crack from which he had once fished out the vial with memories of the old wizard, something was glinting dimly. And somehow Harry knew exactly what it was. All he needed to do was to silently summon the find towards him through the impenetrable magic sphere, and so he did.
The ghostly figures were barely distinguishable from below; and certainly no one would be able to recognise them as the late wizards – the Astronomy Tower was too high. Despite the obvious inevitability of the approaching decisive duel, the Death Eaters and the defenders on the ground continued fighting. None of them wanted to receive an offensive spell in their back by focusing too much on the confrontation taking place under the clouds. Nevertheless, many wizards kept occasionally casting alarmed glances to the top of the tower.
Hermione had to cling onto a fragment of the wall in order not to fall out of fear. So, that's why Harry had left them by the lake? To fight Voldemort one-on-one? A magic sphere, a green flash of a spell, stopped by figures emerging from nowhere… The burning pain in her chest made the girl realise that she had stopped breathing for a moment. With a convulsive gulp of rancid, smoky air, she was hit by understanding: Harry couldn't cope alone. She must run for help; she must save him! Severus was also somewhere at the top, so she must be there as well! Ask any teacher – Hermione Granger was one of the smartest alumni of Hogwarts in the last twenty years. Her help couldn't be counterproductive!
She had almost taken a step forward when strong hands grabbed her around the waist, pulling her close to a body. Hermione didn't even have time to make an instinctive attempt to break free as she recognised the familiar scent of herbs emanating from Severus' skin. His lips approached her ear.
"Stay put, Hermione."
As if she had other options, considering his steel grip… Though, frankly speaking, having heard his voice in such close proximity, the girl allowed herself to relax for a few seconds – alive, safe, near her! She pressed herself tighter into this unexpected embrace and sobbed ever so slightly. However, an instant later, reality rolled onto her like a well-aimed Aguamenti – she was too unselfish to rejoice at being safely enclosed by the hands of her beloved while Harry, up there, was deprived of the support of such a powerful wizard as Professor Snape. At the same time, her Severus was as far from Voldemort as the scale of the battle allowed, and this could not but fill her heart with warmth. Torn by shame, fear and despair, she twisted in his arms and looked him in the eye.
"Harry's up there," she said simply.
She did not have to explain anything. Harry was a seventeen-year-old wizard with average magical abilities. Her best friend, their last hope, whose most severe spell was Expelliarmus, wanted to duel against the darkest and strongest wizard. Merlin! He just couldn't do it! He'd die!
"Severus, we need… we need…" she did not know what to suggest, but the silent observation was worse than torture. She looked into Severus' black eyes with a timid hope of finding a strategic solution, but his eyes remained impenetrable. It seemed that he deliberately did not look up, preferring to study her features, illuminated by the light of the burning ruins, as if he were seeing them for the first time.
"Severus?" she became even more frightened due to his silence. Realisation echoed with a dull pain in her chest – he did not believe that Harry would win… or, at least, come back alive.
Snape must have read her panicked thoughts and self-destructive plans without any Legilimency as he tightened his embrace, resembling a steel hoop around her body.
"Severus! He'll die!"
"This is not your fight, Hermione! You can't help him."
Like hell she can't! She'll…
At this moment, a familiar slim figure, that (Hermione could swear) had tousled black hair and a concentrated frown between its eyebrows, soared up into the air. The edge of the sword flashed with truly Gryffindor colours in the light of the yellowish-red, pre-evening sun, slicing the sphere created by Voldemort. Hermione shrieked in unison with dozens of other voices…
They, of course, could not be heard at the top of the tower. Harry no longer heard even the voice of his mother behind the pounding of his heart in his ears. The sword of Gryffindor left by Snape, the broken broom and the hurt look of Professor Dumbledore – it seemed that Harry had no other way. His family was determined to protect him from the Dark Lord ad infinitum, but the defenders of what was left of Hogwarts did not have that much time. Though… What if he tried to kill Voldemort with the sword? After all, Harry wasn't a proper Horcrux. A small particle of the Lord would remain in him, but it had been there for almost sixteen years and no one had known about it! Perhaps, he could live his whole life peacefully and happily, controlling this part, and then, when he grew old, he could ask someone to cast 'Avada' upon him. Or, at the very least, he could take the Lord with him now… These peculiar, otherworldly thoughts on the edge of the abyss were intoxicating, although Harry did not believe in their feasibility. The next instant he was on top of the broom with the cold hilt of the heavy sword clasped in his hand…
The phantoms darted after him, shielding him with their bodies. They were shouting something to Harry, but he heard only the roar of the wind and saw only the red eyes of Voldemort, narrowed at the sight of this unexpected manoeuvre by his enemy.
The next thing Harry intended to do was a Wronski Feint, to escape the protection of those who he hadn't managed to protect in the past. However…
"Moritas more!" the Dark Lord said suddenly with a hint of grievance in his voice – perhaps, because such a simple solution had been eluding him for so long.
As much as Harry wanted to believe in their presence, all of them – Lily and James Potter, Sirius Black, Cedric, Mad-Eye Moody, Professor Dumbledore: his family, mentors, friends – all of them were primarily dead.
'Moritas more' – the death of the dead ones…
Their faces and voices faded away within a second, and in the next one, instead of the dear figures in front of him, Harry saw a green beam, rushing towards him.
'Avada Kedavra' – the death of the living ones…
Shame. A split second longer and he could use the sword, taking Voldemort with him. Never mind, this way wasn't too bad either.
The beam of the Killing Curse pierced the Dark Mark, hanging above the tower, illuminated the eyes of the giant skull and, not meeting any obstacles on the way, reached Harry. He was thrown aside so sharply that for a moment it seemed that he had somehow managed to dodge the beam, but no. The next instant the boy dropped his broom and begun falling from the clouds. His fight was over, but he did not know that. And, as all decedents, felt neither fear nor pain. He did not express any signs of relief either when a pair of strong hands grabbed his body, ceasing his vertiginous fall almost at the very ground. He did not care about anything anymore. He did not feel dizzy, and his scar did not hurt.
Professor Snape, on the contrary, felt extremely dizzy: the boy turned out to be quite heavy and soaring, together with him, back into the sky wasn't an easy task. 'Together' was an obvious exaggeration, of course. Potter could no longer do anything other than be a load as he was undoubtedly dead. 'Avada Kedavra' generally left no other options. This was very much worth considering since about two dozen Death Eaters immediately rushed on their brooms towards the top of the tower. They were clearly against someone intercepting the Lord's rightful prey (dead or alive) right above their heads. It was only unclear why Voldemort had suddenly become so quiet.
The professor was more concerned with the Dark Lord rather than his agitated servants. He could really do without another green beam cast from the tower. However, the black battlement, thoroughly chipped by offensive spells, remained ominously silent. Snape's mark, which had been hurting like hell only a few minutes ago, was suddenly quiet too, resembling a snake curled up in a ball. What the Salazar? Had Potter managed to hit the invulnerable Lord with some kind of spell after all? During their brief and peculiar duel, quite strange magic had been taking place on top of the tower… Perhaps, it had affected Voldemort in some way? Having flown a bit higher, Severus ventured to slow down and glance back. No one was chasing them – the Death Eaters had other things on their minds. What the professor saw surpassed all his expectations. With his head thrown back, the Dark Lord lay in the middle of the fighting platform, surrounded by scowling merlons of the crenellation. He was motionless and indifferent, just like the boy in the professor's arms. Maybe their magical connection was more complicated than it had seemed?
Death Eaters kept arriving at the tower in such numbers that soon there was nowhere for them to land, so the newcomers had to circle nearby on brooms. However, the space around the Dark Lord remained quite empty. No one wanted to be the first to approach the lifeless body of their Master. Snape could vouch that the faces behind the white masks were twisted with pure horror. People on the ground were fraught with confusion too as the pause was beginning to protract. Was the Lord gone? Unfortunately, the professor was not really in position to verify this personally. Oddly enough, he felt quite indifferent. Almost like Potter. Although, deep down, he had serious doubts that Voldemort would do everyone such a favour as finally kick the bucket. Besides, so unexpectedly and at the hands of the poorly trained schoolboy, for the battle with whom he had been preparing for many years. The professor's mood was vague. Partially because of the dead Gryffindorian in his arms…
Snape swayed slightly in mid-air from a sharp gust of wind, but immediately regained his balance. It was necessary to wrap it up with levitation as he needed to conserve his energy – there were plenty of Death Eaters left around. Severus sighed, peering into the boy's still, serene face. Was it a twitch of eyelashes or had he imagined it? No, perhaps just a shadow of the drifting clouds. It was time to finally leave Harry Potter in peace.