Content warning: violence, depiction of injury
He shook as he checked the time. 5:04 AM. They had another two hours to go. Merlin, they were so close.
Snape's expression darkened immediately with Harry's proclamation. "Shut your eyes and keep them closed."
Harry jumped up, wand drawn and one hand on the hilt of the sword of Gryffindor at his waist. "The wards, damn it- why don't those wards work?"
"Don't be stupid Potter. Those wards would never keep out a basilisk." Snape said bitterly. He gripped Harry's arm and dragged him inside a derelict ruin nearby. Once inside, it was clear that it had at one point in the not so distant past been a butcher shop. Rotten meat still festered green and black in the formerly refrigerated display cases.
"We need to keep it away from the formation." Harry said, shaking. Willing his hands to still, he conjured up several mirrors. They clanged and dinged like chimes as they fluttered around, positioning themselves like a Muggle's car mirrors around each of them.
"Yes, away from the formation." Snape agreed.
...Kill…
"It's getting closer." Harry swore and turned to his partner. Snape ground his teeth and something flashed in his eyes. His expression filled with steely resolve.
"Stay here." Snape said quietly. "I'll deal with it."
"What? No, no that's stupid! We've made it this far, we'll have better luck if we stick together-"
"Shut up and listen. You stay here, Potter- do you understand?" Snape took a deep breath. "There's no need to rush to your death. With any luck, we'll all be dead at sunrise."
Harry opened his mouth to argue, but faltered when Snape's lip curled. It was clear there was no convincing him otherwise. He'd probably have an easier time trying to convince him to frolick around the ruined grounds with Sirius Black - if he were still alive.
He unbuckled the sword of Gryffindor from his belt and held it out to Snape. "Take it."
Snape had the gall to raise an eyebrow but nonetheless accepted the offered hilt. He bounced the sword in his hand, testing its weight.
"The basilisk is probably resistant to magic. If you need to, well, you know..." It felt odd for him to not have the sword at his hip - it had grown familiar to him.
Snape nodded. "Naturally." He began to make his way to the blown out door of the butcher shop, pausing in the doorway. "Use the cloak."
Harry watched Snape leave with a lump in his throat. He followed the last order his former professor gave him and pulled his Invisibility Cloak from the enchanted pouch at his belt. Pulling it over his figure, he crouched and waited with eyes trained on the bloody pool that would serve as the ritual's foundation. A quickly cast charm would alert him five minutes to sunrise. His fingers found the amulet under his collar.
Nearly an hour passed before anything happened. Harry had already downed three Wit Sharpening potions - (Snape had tutored him on lethal doses for many common combat potions in case he needed to push himself to the limit.) Five minutes before a new hour, an unnatural roar shook the Earth, shaking the already crumbling buildings of abandoned London.
Harry's heart clenched at the sound and at the explosions that followed. While he couldn't see anything, the ground shook every time the sound of crashing stone and concrete reached his ears. He desperately wanted to jump out from the old butcher shop and fight. Merlin, that would be so much easier.
The noises continued for a mere six minutes. Harry counted every one. The sounds stopped, though. No roars, no hissing, no crashing or explosions. Harry's heart was racing. He managed to force himself to wait another five minutes before pulling the cloak tight about himself and rushing forward, activating a tracking charm on Snape. His feet peaked out from his cloak and blurred with speed as he ran towards the location of his former professor.
The sight that awaited him made him stumble forward into the rubble. His head slammed into the ground and his heart skipped several beats. No.
He spat out blood and a molar as he looked up in horror. "No..."
Snape was missing an arm. All that was left was a bloody socket. One of his legs was wrapped in tight, transfigured bandages. He must've been bitten while fighting and needed to stabilize himself, Harry thought numbly. The sword of Gryffindor lay in a pool of Snape's blood.
Trembling, Harry pushed himself to stand and retrieved it. He wiped the blood off on his poison green cloak. No slain basilisk was in sight, though the street was littered with fires burning the color of ash. No corpse.
Snape had died, yet the monster had lived.
Harry swallowed past his grief. He cast a Tempus spell - there were forty minutes to sunrise. He ignored the voice in his head that sounded painfully like Snape's, and knelt at the man's side. Yes, if the other man could speak he would be screaming at him to get back to the formation. Harry reached out and closed Snape's eyes with his fingers. He murmured a few spells under his breath.
White lilies sprung into existence around Snape's body. Harry stood and stared at the man who had saved his life countless times. I never saved him. Harry thought. I should have followed. With a body like lead, he turned away. He fought the image of lilies with bloodstained petals all the way back to the formation.
It was time.
Harry stood at the center of the pool of blood. The hem of his robe had become a muddy color, weighed down by thick liquid. The once bright crimson had settled to a deep black red. Even though the pool had been no deeper than a small puddle, it betrayed all laws of physics and was now deep enough to reach Harry's knees. Every once in a while, he would feel something brush past his boot or scrape his calf - when he looked, of course he saw nothing.
He turned his eyes to Dominion and felt a pang of regret. There were no doubt prisoners there that he knew - friends and professors from Hogwarts, members of the Order, even shopkeeps from Diagon Alley. It would be unlikely that they would survive. Snape had insisted that it would be impossible to both complete the ritual and launch a rescue mission. (He had also said that at this point death would be a kindness to them, to which Harry had ignored.)
The sun inched over the horizon, shining perfect gold rays across the ruined city. No light shone on the pool. Harry took a deep breath and raised his wand.
There would be a short period of time where Voldemort would no doubt be alerted to his presence. Frankly, it was a miracle the basilisk hadn't already summoned him when Snape had failed to kill it. Either way, old snakeface would be along shortly. This had been planned for - Snape would have been free to duel, but seeing as the former Death Eater was no longer alive, Harry had to rely on his own portion of the protection and whatever wards Snape had already cast.
Harry gathered all of the hatred in his heart, accumulated from years of watching friends and family die. Snape's lifeless body in a pool of blood flashed in his mind.
"Nocte patronum!"
A skeletal stag burst into existence, shrouded in darkness. It howled with an ungodly shriek, piercing and full of hate. Harry laughed hollowly, eyes bright. Dark magic was always pleasant to cast- it left him with the feeling he had just won the Quidditch Cup, elated and victorious. It was no wonder Voldemort and the rest were as arrogant and sadistic as they were.
The inverse Patronus shrieked again, and the air grew to a familiar cold. He wondered mildly how many Dementors he'd manage to summon this time. His last record was fifty six, and they'd feasted on quite a few souls that time. He'd probably have some eager to return for seconds.
He turned his attention back to the ritual he needed to complete. Already he could see green fires being lit at the obsidian palace Dominion- they'd be here soon.
Harry cleared his throat and made sure the amulet was laid against his skin.
"Bring forth the beast beyond the veil, and let me judge his worth!"
The effect was immediate. The earth shattered with a earsplitting crack. Disembodied screams filled the air, seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere. The sun burned bright with a painful intensity.
A hand burst from the pool and Harry grasped it. It was burning hot and dripped with black liquid, as if it were drenched in ink. Ignoring every instinct in his body, Harry pulled with all his might and hoisted a monster from the portal.
It was a man, if a man could be dripping with black and and with white pits for eyes. Harry could see no distinguishing features.
The dementors had begun to swarm above, their cold clashing with the dark being's heat. With a crack, Harry was no longer alone - he and the creature were surrounded.
A hundred wands were pointed in his direction. Some fell to the dementors as they swooped in with dark glee. Harry's gaze immediately snapped to one person though. Scarlet eyes filled with hatred and confusion met his, and Harry smiled. He saw Snape's lifeless face in his mind's eye, followed by Hermione's, Ron's, Ginny's, Neville's, Luna's, the twins' - everyone he had seen perish crossed his mind. Harry turned back to the beast.
"You are worthy. In return for your freedom, I have but one request. Destroy Albion and ensure none of its children survive."
The cursed being still gripping his hand let forth a low growl. Across the bond binding them, Harry felt Voldemort's shock, horror, and desperate need to escape. It seemed he understood what Harry had just done.
The being he summoned let go of his hand and began to pace. As it walked, the ground began to rupture and collapse, great tendrils of fire erupting from below. Many Death Eaters fell to their demise, screaming as they found themselves burning and their ability to apparate gone.
Voldemort howled with fury and raised his wand to Harry who watched the scene serenely. In the sea of blazing red and orange, there was a flash of green, and Harry Potter died.