Oh, I forgot the Disclaimer. No, nothing is mine, no earn,all belongs to JKR, most unfortunately.
Thank you so much for all your reviews, I love you! (And sorry for the cliffhanger ...)
And again many, many thanks to cecelle who fixed quite a few little language problems!
The passage with the locket is in OoP, Chapter 6: The Noble and most ancient house of Black, p. 108, middle of the page (Bloomsbury): "There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinklilng tune when wound, and they all fond themselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy, until Ginny had the sense to slam the lid shut; a heavy locket that none of them could open; a number of ancient seals; and, in a dusty box, an Order of Merlin, First Class, that had been awardet to Sirius's grandfather for ‚services to the Ministry'." And they throw it all in the rubbish sack with Kreacher attempting "to smuggle things away under his loincloth" ... cecelle found it, so no credit to me, I would never have remembered this little tidbit.
I just read an interview with Rowling on and there she says that R.A.B. is indeed Regulus Black (she doesn't reveal the middle name, though), cecelle and I (and probably many of you) were correct! There is also a hidden little hint in HBP, because when she talks about Sirius's will, she explicitly mentions Regulus's name, although that wouldn't have been necessary at that point. I guess, she just wanted to bring it back to mind so we would draw the connection.
What she says about Snape in that interview makes me pretty uneasy, though, I got the impression that my theory is totally wrong and Snape is indeed evil, argh. If you read it, please, tell me what you make out of it!
I admit, the raven is rather obvious, but if it wasn't, Harry would hardly have drawn the connection, would he?
Thanks for the tip with the summary, I changed it.
Now on with the story, have fun!
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Chapter 2: The Fall of the Prince
Taken totally by surprise, the raven was hit squarely in the chest and blasted high into the air by the force of the curse. For a split second, it seemed to hang suspended over the abyss, then, fluttering and cawing in shock and pain, it fell slowly backwards over the battlements, disappearing in the twilight.
"Yippee, you got him!" cheered Ron and ran towards the ramparts, but it was already too dark to see anything for sure.
"Let's go down and check. I don't suppose he will be in any shape to make for an escape, although you never know with Snape," cautioned Harry and turned towards the entrance to the spiral staircase. "Unlike Dumbledore, he has wings ..."
Halfway down the stairs, they met Hermione coming towards them.
"Aren't you hungry? Dinner's served in the Common Room. Dobby won't be too happy if you miss it – again." On behalf of the elf, she sounded not a little reproachful.
"Forget about dinner, Mione. Harry's got him!" Ron was taking three steps at a time from sheer excitement.
"Got who? Snape? So it was really him? What happened?" Hermione asked breathlessly. "Are you heading to the headmistress's to tell her?"
"Nah, we want to have a look first, and make sure he can't fly away again," Ron explained, while rushing past the baffled Hermione. "We'd better hurry."
A few minutes and a couple of hundred steps and corridors later, the three teenagers ran through the oak front doors out onto the darkening grounds. As they rounded the Astronomy Tower, they could see a black, huddled mass lying in the grass there, in almost the exact same spot Dumbledore had lain less than a year ago.
"You – you think he's dead?" asked Hermione, suddenly scared.
Harry did not answer. Holding his wand trained on the still figure on the ground, he moved closer cautiously, Ron and Hermione following a few steps behind him. There was no doubt, it was a man, no bird, and he seemed to be either dead or unconscious.
"You know, it could be a feint," Ron warned. "He might pretend to be dead and then suddenly –" They jumped as the figure moved and rolled slowly onto his back, one arm covering his face. They could hear a soft and painful moan.
"Stay back, you two," ordered Harry as he strode forward, his wand at the ready. When he came closer, he relaxed a bit. It was Snape, all right; he could easily tell from the greasy shoulder-length hair spread out on the grass like black tentacles. The strange angle of his legs suggested that they were badly broken. And wasn't there blood on his hand? Although Snape was definitely alive, he seemed to be sufficiently injured to prevent him from either running or attacking, Harry noted with satisfaction.
"Snape!" he called, nudging the man non-too-gently in the side with the tip of one trainer. The fallen wizard gasped, suppressing a stifled cry. Slowly, he removed his arm from his face and blinked up at Harry.
"Potter," he hissed, his bloodstained face a mask of loathing and pain. He was breathing heavily, struggling to keep his eyes focused. "Read your Karl May well, I see. How was it again, 'The murderer always returns to the scene of his crime? – Etters dying on the grave of the one he murdered – Oh, the parallels." The last words had hardly been more than a whisper from bloodless, trembling lips. Suddenly, mustering all his reserves in a final effort, Snape sat halfway up, hisburning black eyes boring into Harry's. "Are you satisfied now?" he spat, sending bloody spittle flying. "Proud of yourself? Now, who's the coward? You fool, you cowardly fool. Like father, like son ..." A coughing fit shook his body, and, groaning, he sank back to the ground, blood trickling from his mouth. His eyes closed.
Harry stood rigid, as if carved of stone, his wand still trained on the dying man's heart. At Snape's last words, his wand hand twitched, and he looked, if possible, even grimmer than before. How often had he heard similar words from Snape's curled, sneering lips? But this time, it would be the last time ever...
"Harry, we can't just let him lie here and bleed to death. He is a murderer, yes, but he is also a human being. Of course, he must be punished, but that's what courts and prisons are for. It's not for us to judge." Hermione was looking at Harry pleadingly, her eyes filled with tears. "Harry, let's take him to McGonagall. Please. Harry?"
Harry didn't seem to notice. Finally, he turned to his agitated friend. "Do what you must. I don't care one way or another." He gazed over at Dumbledore's grave, the white marble of the tomb shining in the distance. Hermione gave him one last tearful look, then conjured up a stretcher out of thin air and carefully levitated the unconscious form of her former professor onto it.
"Ron, I'll take him to the Hospital Wing. You go get McGonagall. But be quick, he's hardly breathing," Hermione said softly to the tall boy beside her. Ron nodded and sped away towards the main entrance, while Hermione was following at a slower pace, the stretcher floating at her side. Harry remained behind. Alone.
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"Merlin, Severus!"
Hermione had barely entered the Hospital Wing when Professor McGonagall came rushing in, panting and wringing her hands. After giving her former colleague a short look-over, she ordered, "Over here, Miss Granger, this bed. Be careful, I think he's cracked his skull." Then McGonagall turned around, addressing the tall redhead lingering in the doorway. "Mr. Weasley, get me as much Blood Replenishing Potion as you can carry, the large cabinet over there, I believe. I'll try to contact Madam Pomfrey. I'm not much of a Healer, I fear ..." She sighed, then hastened over to the large fireplace in the Mediwitch's office.
While Ron was clattering about with several large bottles of a crimson liquid, Hermione found some gauze and bandages. A big blotch of scarlet had spread on the white pillows under Snape's head, growing larger by the second. And his garments seemed drenched with blood.
"Help me with his robes," Hermione said to Ron, who had deposited the bottles on the nightstand. With a swish of her wand, she made the heavy travelling cloak unclasp and vanish from under the dying wizard, collecting in a black heap on the floor. Then they both fumbled about with the many buttons of the torn black frock coat, slippery with blood. Underneath, the formerly white shirt was a wet mess of crimson, exposing deep ugly cuts through the gashes in the fabric, still oozing large amounts of blood.
"Urgh." Ron gave a strangled sound, turning green in the face. "I think I need the bathroom," he stammered, rushing out of the room, his hands clasped over his mouth.
Hermione disposed of the ruined clothes with another flick of her wand. Pressing the gauze against the wounds in the man's chest, she tried to stay the bleeding, but with little success. Snape gave a low moan, but did not stir. At least he's still alive, she thought. If only she knew the spell Snape had used to heal Malfoy after Harry had cast the Sectumsempra on the young Death Eater in their sixth year. How ironic that Snape might die of a curse he himself invented when still a Hogwarts student ...
After a couple of minutes that seemed to drag like hours, Madam Pomfrey appeared in the room, Professor McGonagall on her heels. "What a mess," she murmured, taking in the bloody scene with one professional glance. Then she turned to the headmistress and the young witch, all business. "Out with you. I'll take over from here on. Although I can't promise anything. Out, out."
The two witches left the ward in silence, Hermione stopping at the bathroom to collect the still somewhat greenish-looking Ron. Finally, on the way to the headmistress's office, McGonagall broke the silence. "Would you please explain to me what happened, Miss Granger? Mr. Weasley's account of events was rather incoherent, I fear." And Hermione explained – how Harry had been convinced that Snape was the raven, how they had watched out for him on the Astronomy Tower, how he had finally showed up this evening ...
"Thank you, Miss Granger," McGonagall said wearily. "Would you be so kind to tell Mr. Potter to come to my office immediately. There is something I have to tell him. And get yourself cleaned up." She gave her former students' bloodstained robes a telling look. "And have the house-elves make you some hot chocolate. I think you might need it, both of you."
TBC
o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O oP.S.: I'm sure, most of you will ask now, who the heck is Karl May? He's been one of the most famous writers of adventure books for many generations of German kids, and I bet every German person in the world has at least heard of him, if not read some of his books. And since I know this saying from his book "Old Surehand", I didn't want to leave it out.
Hope, you liked the chapter!
