Chapter 3
Severus was drawing nearer and nearer to the castle, his leaden heart sinking, it seemed, into the pit of his stomach. Instinctively, he wanted to turn and ride off in the other direction. But he was so determined at this point that nothing could lure him into running away again.
Each gallop brought him closer to the dark lord, with every breath his look grew more steely, yet his nerves weaker. But he would not fail. Not this time.
In the distance stood what appeared to be a blackened shadow on a hilltop, a massive edifice, and an ancient structure. Hogwarts castle. A school, a peaceful place, always somewhere that the student and weary traveler alike could find a friend, and help, whenever it was needed. But not this night.
Severus could hear the drums of war, so it seemed, from the great distance at which he stood. He heard the sound of armies clashing, spells being thrown, screams of the dying, screams of the triumphant. He could faintly smell, swirling about him in the air, the scent of brimstone and ash. And if one could ever say safely that they could hear fire, the roar of the unearthly flame, so Severus Snape could on this night.
For a moment he paused and listened to the battle's dying echo, so far off that he could fall into oblivion and allow the faint noise to die away. He breathed so silently that he may have stopped breathing altogether. To see the world come to this. Hogwarts, always proud, always safe. Her halls now a battleground, her students' blood spilt on her prestigious floors and tapestries. And now Dumbledore had fallen. Or had he?
Thinking of Dumbledore, the reality and urgency came back to him swiftly. The world came back into focus, and without a second thought, Severus Snape kicked his horse with his heel and sped toward Hell.
The grounds passed by him in a swirling blur, his eyes directly on his destination. He had not prepared, exactly, how he would enter, and what he would do. Suppose Voldemort had already won? Suppose.?
Severus was not given time to finish that thought. At that moment, a deafening bang sounded, and the ground shook. Severus's horse reared up and whinnied, throwing Severus roughly onto the ground. The spooked creature fretted, nearly crushing Severus with one of its hooves, before taking off at top speed in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Severus stood unsteadily, shaken from the fall, and the thunderous noise. The air was now filled with screams, the castle ablaze with flame and smoke, and the sky thick with blackened clouds in the shapes of skulls. It was then that he noticed the bodies dotting the ground, lying awkwardly here and there. Some were draped in the garb of death eaters - others, Hogwarts robes. Some were slain brutally, their corpses lying in pools of blood. But most wore only an expression of utter terror on their faces.
Severus quickened his pace, among the dead, the dying. He heard the screams of those being tortured, and the constant chanting of the unforgivable curses. Lord Voldemort was inside. The dark lord, in flesh and bone, stood not far from where he himself stood at that moment. He reached into the pocket inside of his cloak, and clutched his wand fiercely. There were wizards dueling about him, but in a bloodthirsty, chaotic fashion. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, a wizard stripped of his wand, burning alive. This was his moment. His head swam with fear and anger, and the skull-shattering din of the ungodly screams piercing the cold night air. He turned once, to see a pink tinge laying on the horizon. He had been gone for too long. With a heartfelt scream, reverberating in his chest, he ran onward, diving into the battle, toward the doorway of the school, with no thought or reason, only pure emotion, the only emotion he had ever expressed truthfully, aside from disdain, perhaps in his entire life.
In barely crossing the threshold, he was hit - BOOM- directly in the chest, with something that felt like an ice-cold ocean wave, crashing violently on the shore. He was blinded by a white light, and thrown backward.
He felt his body become powerless, his limbs flailing uncontrollably. He felt a pain in his chest, only briefly, as he soared through the air, for how many feet, he was not sure. Within one second he felt the pain intensify, then weaken, and then slip away entirely. He felt his consciousness leaving him, the sights and sounds of war waning, and all light began to grow dim. Within one second, before his lifeless form could make contact again with the cold, hard ground, he knew no more.
Severus was drawing nearer and nearer to the castle, his leaden heart sinking, it seemed, into the pit of his stomach. Instinctively, he wanted to turn and ride off in the other direction. But he was so determined at this point that nothing could lure him into running away again.
Each gallop brought him closer to the dark lord, with every breath his look grew more steely, yet his nerves weaker. But he would not fail. Not this time.
In the distance stood what appeared to be a blackened shadow on a hilltop, a massive edifice, and an ancient structure. Hogwarts castle. A school, a peaceful place, always somewhere that the student and weary traveler alike could find a friend, and help, whenever it was needed. But not this night.
Severus could hear the drums of war, so it seemed, from the great distance at which he stood. He heard the sound of armies clashing, spells being thrown, screams of the dying, screams of the triumphant. He could faintly smell, swirling about him in the air, the scent of brimstone and ash. And if one could ever say safely that they could hear fire, the roar of the unearthly flame, so Severus Snape could on this night.
For a moment he paused and listened to the battle's dying echo, so far off that he could fall into oblivion and allow the faint noise to die away. He breathed so silently that he may have stopped breathing altogether. To see the world come to this. Hogwarts, always proud, always safe. Her halls now a battleground, her students' blood spilt on her prestigious floors and tapestries. And now Dumbledore had fallen. Or had he?
Thinking of Dumbledore, the reality and urgency came back to him swiftly. The world came back into focus, and without a second thought, Severus Snape kicked his horse with his heel and sped toward Hell.
The grounds passed by him in a swirling blur, his eyes directly on his destination. He had not prepared, exactly, how he would enter, and what he would do. Suppose Voldemort had already won? Suppose.?
Severus was not given time to finish that thought. At that moment, a deafening bang sounded, and the ground shook. Severus's horse reared up and whinnied, throwing Severus roughly onto the ground. The spooked creature fretted, nearly crushing Severus with one of its hooves, before taking off at top speed in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Severus stood unsteadily, shaken from the fall, and the thunderous noise. The air was now filled with screams, the castle ablaze with flame and smoke, and the sky thick with blackened clouds in the shapes of skulls. It was then that he noticed the bodies dotting the ground, lying awkwardly here and there. Some were draped in the garb of death eaters - others, Hogwarts robes. Some were slain brutally, their corpses lying in pools of blood. But most wore only an expression of utter terror on their faces.
Severus quickened his pace, among the dead, the dying. He heard the screams of those being tortured, and the constant chanting of the unforgivable curses. Lord Voldemort was inside. The dark lord, in flesh and bone, stood not far from where he himself stood at that moment. He reached into the pocket inside of his cloak, and clutched his wand fiercely. There were wizards dueling about him, but in a bloodthirsty, chaotic fashion. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, a wizard stripped of his wand, burning alive. This was his moment. His head swam with fear and anger, and the skull-shattering din of the ungodly screams piercing the cold night air. He turned once, to see a pink tinge laying on the horizon. He had been gone for too long. With a heartfelt scream, reverberating in his chest, he ran onward, diving into the battle, toward the doorway of the school, with no thought or reason, only pure emotion, the only emotion he had ever expressed truthfully, aside from disdain, perhaps in his entire life.
In barely crossing the threshold, he was hit - BOOM- directly in the chest, with something that felt like an ice-cold ocean wave, crashing violently on the shore. He was blinded by a white light, and thrown backward.
He felt his body become powerless, his limbs flailing uncontrollably. He felt a pain in his chest, only briefly, as he soared through the air, for how many feet, he was not sure. Within one second he felt the pain intensify, then weaken, and then slip away entirely. He felt his consciousness leaving him, the sights and sounds of war waning, and all light began to grow dim. Within one second, before his lifeless form could make contact again with the cold, hard ground, he knew no more.