A/N: Chapter beta read by Forty-Two Dreams. All remaining mistakes are mine.
THE LAST BATTLE
Snape found himself caught in the heat of the action very rapidly. The battle had begun rather awkwardly, after a member of the Order fell dead to the ground, hit by a killing curse cast by a Death Eater while their opponents were still far off. It wasn't long before the school grounds turned into a total mess.
Snape had quickly lost track of who was where, his instincts taking over instantly as he fought his enemies. The battle was tough; people and creatures were shouting and growling all around.
He cast spell after spell, dodged to avoid a curse, barely escaped a giant's vicious grip, hardly ever taking a second to catch his breath. The chaos was such that most of the time he had a hard time figuring who was or wasn't on his side.
A punch in the face here, a stupefying charm there, all in all, Snape thought he was faring fairly well - after all, he was still standing and breathing, and only had a few scratches. However, an unexpected event, manifesting itself mainly in a sudden and sharp pain to his right leg, turned his vision of his situation upside-down - literally.
As he was fighting off a Death Eater, a creature he hadn't seen had plunged its sharp fangs into his calf and had pulled violently until he had lost his balance and had fallen backwards. Almost knocked unconscious by his fall, Snape had enough sense to grip his wand tightly.
While the creature began to drag him away at an alarming speed, Snape managed to get a glimpse of its furry body and its five legs: a quintaped. He urgently dug his fingers in the ground in an attempt to slow or even stop the progression, but all he managed to do was to badly scrape both hands and arms.
The quintaped kept dragging him across the battlefield, right in the middle of the ongoing chaos. No one around seemed to notice him; they were too busy trying to keep themselves alive.
The ride was a painful and bumpy one, during which Snape never managed to get a clear shot at the creature - the few times he tried he almost lost his wand. Every now and then, the quintaped deemed it necessary to secure its hold on its prey by chewing away on his calf some more. Snape yelled at the pain, but the cry was lost in the general commotion.
The quintaped came to a stop at last once they reached the borders of the lake, away from the heat of the battle - probably so the creature could enjoy its meal quietly. But Snape wasn't about to give it this chance. As soon as the creature stopped and began to release its grip, he propped himself up on his elbows and immediately cast a flipping spell on the quintaped: it ended on its back, its five legs gesticulating aimlessly in the void.
Before it could figure how to get back on its legs, Snape stupefied it. Then he lay on his back again with a relieved sigh. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a few seconds to catch his breath, trying to ignore the excruciating pain in his leg, and not caring for a single instant that his feet were dangling in the lake.
He might have passed out for a few minutes, he couldn't tell for sure. When he opened his eyes again, he stood up. The battle. Suddenly remembering he might be needed, Snape stood up painfully, putting all his weight on his functioning leg, and made a quick inventory of his injuries. His right calf was torn to shreds and bleeding profusely. His wand was covered with the blood from his scratched hand and arm. He murmured a quick spell to prevent it from being slippery. As for the wounds, his healing skills being what they were, there wasn't much he could do, not even to ease the pain.
He headed back towards the battlefield, limping heavily and advancing at an excruciatingly slow pace. After only a few yards, he paused to contemplate the scene unfolding ahead of him. The battle looked as impressive from the distance as from within - maybe even more so. He could see dragons, swooping down on giants in bursts of flames. He could –
As if a sixth sense had alerted him of an immediate danger, Snape suddenly turned round, just in time to see Ursaglow cast a curse at him and to dodge it. A second later they were both eying each other, their wands aimed at one another.
"Leaving so soon, Professor Snape?" the young man asked ironically with a sly smile, emphasizing the title more than needed.
Snape couldn't help but sneer. "You know, I kind of hoped I would be given the opportunity to see you again."
"So you could tell me how much you missed me?" Ursaglow mocked.
"So I could give you what you deserve," Snape hissed between gritted teeth.
They remained still a few more seconds while they gauged one another. Ursaglow was uninjured, which either meant he hadn't taken any active part in the battle, or he was an incredibly good fighter. Snape saw the young man's smile widen gradually as he observed Snape's wounds, probably thinking it would make things even easier for him.
They both attacked at the same time. Ursaglow dodged his spell easily, while the wound at Snape's leg restricted his movements, and he avoided the young man's curse with somewhat difficulty. Ursaglow kept casting curses one after the other, never giving him any opportunity to counter-attack, forcing Snape to use shield charms and to take a few steps back.
Oh why the hell was he playing fair whereas Ursaglow wasn't? Snape suddenly wondered.
When an unhoped-for opening arose, Snape didn't hesitate and cast Ursaglow a Dark Arts curse. The curse cut through the skin of Ursaglow's shoulder. Surprised, the young wizard remained taken aback long enough for Snape to cast another while he advanced towards Ursaglow. And another. And another, until they were back to the lake and Ursaglow had his feet in the water.
Ursaglow now had bleeding cuts through his cheek, shoulder and arms. "Is that all you can do?" he teased as he blocked Snape's next attack with a shield charm.
When Snape expected it the least, the young man lunged at him and managed to grab him. Ursaglow pulled him towards the lake, and in a swift twirling movement threw him to the ground in a loud splashing noise before thrusting Snape's head under the water and holding him under.
Snape's hands instinctively grabbed Ursaglow's wrist, unsuccessfully trying to push him away, and realised his mistake only when he began to choke on water: he had dropped his wand.
Ursaglow suddenly lifted Snape's head out of the water, but never loosened his tight grip on Snape's collar. Snape coughed and spat, desperately trying to catch his breath. Ursaglow was glaring at him, his eyes full of hatred.
Mustering all the strength he had left, Snape grabbed Ursaglow's shoulders and rolled on his side, dragging the young wizard with him until he had managed to reverse the situation. He held Ursaglow's head under the water with difficulty as he was already quite spent. But Ursaglow wasn't; he managed to sneak a leg up and kicked Snape's chest violently.
Snape fell back on the shore painfully, while Ursaglow emerged from the lake, standing up and looking angrier than ever. Snape recoiled backwards when Ursaglow advanced towards him, already aiming his wand at him. And Snape no longer had his to counter the young man's attack.
He was at his mercy. And Ursaglow didn't look like he wanted to spare him.
Ursaglow towered over him with a grin of satisfaction. The young man allowed himself a moment to gloat over his victory, his smile widening as he prepared to cast the final curse. Snape held Ursaglow's gaze. He wouldn't show him any sign of weakness. Not now, not ever.
While Snape prepared for the worse, Ursaglow's smile froze and turned into a puzzled expression. The young wizard looked down to his feet. "Oh Merlin," he muttered with a hint of panic in his voice.
Snape looked down too, and had a start when he saw a tentacle wrapped all around one of Ursaglow's legs and up to his thigh. He didn't have the time to do anything until the squid yanked violently. Ursaglow fell face first to the ground and let go a shriek of terror as he was pulled under the water.
Snape remained staring with disbelief at the eddies that indicated where Ursaglow had been standing only a second before. The giant squid. It must have been disturbed and aroused by the surrounding battle. Afraid the squid might want some more, Snape quickly snatched his wand - which was floating on the surface - before moving away from the lake, his eyes never leaving the water.
He decided to rest on the bank for a minute. From where he was, he could still hear the sounds of the battle from afar, which meant it was still going. Snape shivered with cold, but dismissed the sensation as a result of being wet. Until it became uncannily cold.
Snape jumped to his feet and turned round to see a Dementor heading towards him. He braced himself and lifted his wand.
"Expecto Patronum!" he shouted. The bright light pushed the Dementor back, but it was returning to the attack.
Happy thought, Severus, happy thought… he tried to reason. From the corner of his eyes, he saw a second Dementor coming in his direction. Oh right, that was one hell of a happy thought…
Ursaglow. Ursaglow had paid for handing him to the Dark Lord.
"Expecto Patronum!" he shouted again, pushing the two Dementors away efficiently, but not for long. "Expecto Patronum!" he cast once more, without much result.
Two other Dementors were approaching. That made four of them, he noted, trying very hard not to panic - and barely succeeding. He was alone, isolated from the rest of the crowd. He was severely wounded and hardly had enough strength left to keep standing. There was no way he could fend off four Dementors on his own in this state.
A happy thought. Any happy thought. "Expecto Patronum!" he shouted unproductively, still racking his brain for a positive memory. But the closer the Dementors were getting, the harder it became for him to focus on something positive.
Against his will, his thoughts were brought back to his childhood. His parents arguing violently. The other students at Hogwarts making fun of him. Muggles tortured at his own hands. The Dark Mark burning his flesh for the first time. The look of terror on that child's face…
Snape fell on his knees. They were close. They were way too close…
"Expecto Patronum!" he tried desperately, but without any real conviction. "Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!" he continued, but it was no use.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" another voice shouted, and a burst of bright light chased the Dementors.
It suddenly felt as if a weight had suddenly been pulled from Snape's soul. He looked up, and was surprised to find out who had just helped him.
"Lupin?" he exclaimed while the other man helped him up. "What are you doing down here?"
"I had a little, um, encounter with Peter," Lupin replied. Snape looked beyond the werewolf and found, in the distance, Pettigrew lying on the ground. Whether the other wizard was unconscious, stupefied or dead, he couldn't tell - and he honestly couldn't care less. "You?" Lupin asked in return.
"I had a little encounter with…" he hesitated - he didn't really wish to bring Ursaglow up, "with a row of fangs that were very eager to show me just how good my calf tasted."
"Lovely," Lupin said with a weak smile. "Look, we've got to get back to the others; the Dementors will be back soon. Can you walk?" Lupin asked with a gauging look at Snape's wounded leg. On his part, Lupin sported superficial wounds to the head and shoulder.
Snape briefly considered the question. "Not really, but I can still hop." Somehow the Dementors flight had made him somewhat euphoric and on a kind of joking mood.
Lupin looked at him with an amused expression, until his smile disappeared when his gaze veered above Snape's head. "By Merlin's beard…" he muttered with alarm.
Snape looked up as well, and his euphoria vanished instantly. The Dementors were back. And they had brought some friends with them. A dozen of dark silhouettes were now hovering over them. Who could have guessed Dementors were vindictive?
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" both he and Lupin shouted at the same time, brandishing their wands. His own spell had little to no effect, while Lupin's managed to slow the Dementors to some extent. But not to stop them.
Within seconds, they were back to back, circled by Dementors. Snape knew for a fact that he was way too spent to cast a strong enough Patronus - not to mention his inability to focus on a happy thought. And he also knew Lupin couldn't handle a dozen of Dementors on his own.
They were doomed.
A crazed smile stretched on Snape's lips. He wasn't going to die without giving them their galleons' worth. Behind him, Lupin tensed perceptibly when the Dementors drew nearer and nearer.
Come on, just a little bit closer, Snape mentally invited, clutching his wand almost eagerly. One didn't devote oneself to the study of the Dark Arts without learning a few fancy tricks along the way.
Snape was about to cast one of these tricks on the Dementors when they all abruptly stopped advancing. They remained still, as if hesitating.
"What's going on?" Snape asked warily.
"I have no idea…" Lupin replied, obviously at a total loss as well.
The Dementors seemed to stagger, looking as confused as faceless creatures could. They seemed suddenly and inexplicably disoriented. They began stumbling around, moving significantly away from Snape and Lupin, as if they had lost track of them. As if they had totally forgotten about their very existence, actually.
Drifting away slowly, they were soon all gone.
"What the hell just happened?" Snape exclaimed.
The answer came in the form of a loud cheer of happiness coming from the castle's direction. A cheer emanating from dozens of exulting wizards and witches.
"The battle is over," Lupin chuckled with half disbelief. "We won."
Coming Next: Denouement