Snape's hands were on his hips, and he regarded them with that familiar sardonic glare – as though they were, in Fred's words on a previous occasion, something not even the cat could bring itself to drag in.

"Oh bloody hell," muttered Harry. "This is all we need. Can't we put him off the scent somehow – "

"Potter," Snape pronounced. "At last, I find you."

"Er – yeah – but –"

Snape was tapping his wand against his hand in some complex pattern. Ron was watching it curiously. He caught his breath. "Harry, he's casting –"

Ron's warning was too late.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Snape bellowed, pointing his wand directly toward them. All three of their wands flew towards him.

"Snape.. Professor Snape," Harry cried in agony. "You have to let me stay and see Sirius!."

"You have very curious ideas," Snape said softly, "about what I have to do. This is all very touching, Potter, but I fear you mistake the situation. Now walk."

With Snape behind them, pointing his wand at their backs, they had little choice but to do as he said. Harry had no doubt that Snape would otherwise cast some horribly humiliating spell and drag him back to Hogwarts in chains, and on his knees if necessary. Snape, in fact, would probably enjoy it.

Harry's mind flew over options. This was a dangerous and complicated land; perhaps they could use that against Snape in some way and manage to make their escape. With the way Snape felt about both Harry's father and Godfather, it was most unlikely he would be stricken with a compassionate urge and agree to allow Harry to pursue his quest.

Snape had directed them up a slope and into one of the gently wooded areas which dotted the valley hillsides.

"Stand against a tree," Snape instructed. "Separate trees, Potter…!"

Puzzled, they each went and stood beside a tree, flickering wary glances among themselves. Then they gasped: too late for them to react, Snape's wand had flickered.

"Convolvulus rapido!"

With remarkable speed, they found themselves immobilized. Bindweed snaked and twined around each of them, enwrapping them mummy-like in a cocoon of vegetation. Hermione kicked fruitlessly against the ensnaring weed; she was going red with annoyance. Snape had left their faces free.

"Oh thanks," Harry said angrily, "I suppose we should be thankful you've left space for us to breathe!"

"Yes, Potter. You should. That, however, is an error which can – very soon – be rectified."

Harry, Hermione and Ron stared at Snape. Their jaws dropped, and icy fingers began to dribble down their spines.

"Then," Ron broke in. "But .. You – you – I thought you wanted to take us back to Hogwarts!"

"That was certainly Professor Dumbledore's plan," Snape said smoothly. "However, other – masters – had rather different ideas as to what I should do with you." Hermione opened her mouth. "And one word from you, Miss Granger, and I will wrap that weed right around your bucktoothed mouth."

Horror was coursing through Harry's body. He struggled against the bindweed, but to no avail: it had formed hawser-like bonds around him. He was trapped, wandless and helpless. And so were Ron and Hermione. Harry felt sick with rage and fear and guilt.

"What now then?" Harry demanded, raising his chin to glare at Snape directly.

"I have never thought highly of your brains, Potter," Snape sighed, "but I would have thought even your puny intelligence would be up to the task of figuring this one out."

And certainly, if any of them had cherished any lingering doubts, what happened next put paid to that. The piece of air behind Snape thickened, darkened and materialized. A shape had pushed itself into being: a cloaked and skeletal figure, with long spectral fingers and palely flaring eyes.

And so Harry found himself face to face with Voldemort: not, of course, for the first time in his life. It seemed increasingly likely, however, that it would be for the last.

Snape had dropped immediately to his knees before Voldemort's shade and was trying to press his lips to the insubstantial robe.

"My lord," he said reverently.

Voldemort hissed out a sigh, heavy with satisfaction. "This all looks very – promising, Snape. I shall remain here to watch the conclusion to a story which should have been ended long, long ago…"

Sirius, Harry thought wildly. Sirius wasn't very far away, he was in that castle, how could Harry let him know that he was in such trouble…? Sirius would come if he knew…

Snape had turned slowly back towards Harry and was raising his wand. A fierce light burned in his eyes. For a moment they stared at each directly, face to face. Snape was very pale; sweat gleamed on his cheeks and forehead. His hair hung, as ever, in greasy curtains. He looked, pretty much, just like he did in Potions classes at Hogwarts…Surely, surely, this could not be happening…Dumbledore wouldn't allow this to happen – But you left the school, a small inner voice reminded Harry. Dumbledore was protecting you, and yet again you just sneaked off around his defences. See what has come of it…

"Snape," Harry stammered, without conscious thought. "Professor Snape – don't – "

"Why ever not, Potter? Surely you know I have been awaiting this moment for quite some time."

"But Dumbledore," Harry gasped out desperately. His body would have been shaking violently if not for the bindweed trussing him to the tree. "He trusts you!"

"So he does." Snape smiled without mirth. "The Muggle-loving old fool."

"That woman – man – at the shore, said that you can't!" Harry was babbling now, and despised himself for it. "If you kill in this realm, she said – she said your fate will be beyond the writing of the gods!"

"Oh? I expect she forgot to mention that this is only the case if what you kill is from this realm. Which, you, Potter, are not…You see, Potter, you seem to have forgotten that this day was inevitable from the start. You cannot win. Do you not remember Bellatrix Lestrange telling you this in the Ministry of Magic? Do you not recall what Bellatrix said?"

Harry had run out of anything to say which might conceivably persuade Snape to change his mind. He thought of Sirius, of Ron, of Hermione, with acute sadness. He remembered what Voldemort had said to him when he was fourteen: "And now you face me, like a man … straight-backed and proud, the way your father died."

So I will, he thought fiercely. So I will. He set his jaw and stared Snape defiantly in the face. Despite himself, a single tear tracked soundlessly down his pale cheeks. His eyes were enormous. He swallowed, and waited for the bolt he knew would shortly strike him. He was vaguely aware of Ron and Hermione screaming in helpless protest.

Snape looked at Harry for a long, long moment. His eyes glinted: black and crystalline as fractured obsidian. He flicked a glance over his shoulder to where Voldemort watched and waited, a gloating smile playing around his lipless mouth.

Then, Snape uttered a harsh snarl, and pointed his wand.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry's body slammed back against the tree to which he was bound. Green lightning flared. Harry's body went first rigid, then crumpled, then fall forward limply in its bonds.

The sun was not yet setting. A single Bane Bird, however, was already circling down. It perched expectantly on Harry's lolling head.

"Kaaa – kaaa – kaaa."

For that singular instant, that frozen moment, the Bane Bird's plaint of death was the only sound in the valley: as the daylight sun bled over the rim of the enfolding hills, and shadows rose to drown them.

"Kaaa – kaaa – kaaa."