The Bodyguard
Chapter 36: The Chosen One
"Neville, can't you go any faster?" Harry had never felt more frustrated. Across the other side of the courtyard, Snape's black robes whisked out of sight, into the stairwell leading up to the Astronomy Tower.
Voldemort was getting away.
But Neville was barely tottering along, and Harry groaned when he stopped altogether.
"I'm sorry!" Neville put his hands on his knees, bent down and wheezed. Sweat ran down his flushed face and he seemed completely exhausted. "Go on without me. I'll catch up, when I've got my breath back."
"Go on without you?" echoed Ron. "Are you out of your mind?"
"How could you let yourself get so unfit? You're supposed to be the Chosen One!" said Draco furiously.
Inwardly, Harry was in full agreement with his boyfriend. If a two-minute run could do this to Neville, how could he possibly survive a wand battle with the most dangerous wizard in the world? But he knew Neville's confidence was easily punctured, so he shook his head, warningly, at the Slytherin.
"We need you with us, Neville," said Hermione, with a quelling look at Ron.
"I haven't had to climb this many stairs all at once, since I left school," Neville admitted shamefacedly.
"Voldemort is going to escape-!" Draco began, but Hermione cut him off.
"He can't escape. The Astronomy Tower's a dead end."
"He'll fly away when he reaches the top," said Draco.
"How? He doesn't have a broom," said Ron.
"There are ways of making one," said Draco ominously.
While his friends bickered, Harry considered what to do next. Neville was still gasping for breath. Making him run up to the top of the Astronomy Tower clearly was out of the question. There was only one thing left for Harry to do. He though, Levicorpus!
Yelling and flapping his arms helplessly, Neville floated up into the air. "He's got me! He Who Must Not Be Named has got me!"
"Quiet, Neville, it's me," said Harry. "I'll float you up the stairs, so you can get your breath back."
"Good thinking," said Draco, and gave Harry a kiss.
Neville's eyes nearly popped out of his head, and he stopped struggling. "Are you two together?"
"Are they ever together, Neville! The THINGS I have seen them doing," muttered Ron, with a martyred air.
"You didn't HAVE to wander into our bedroom," said Draco.
"Too much information." Neville blushed.
"Yes, I thought so too," said Ron.
"Shut up and run!" said Harry. He set off, dragging Neville's floating body behind him, "Everyone, get your wands out and keep quiet. Voldemort could be anywhere."
They entered the stairwell. The stone stairs had never looked more intimidating ... or endless.
"I don't know if I can fight You Know Who, Harry," whispered Neville miserably, as he bobbed up the stairs. He had his breath back, but he was pale as a ghost.
"Shh! It's okay, we'll keep him busy for you." Harry wasn't looking at Neville. It was alarming, not knowing if Voldemort was lying in wait for them around the next corner. He wondered if they'd come across Snape's body.
Draco caught up with Harry as they rounded the fifth flight of stairs. "Keep Voldemort busy? How are we going to do that? Discuss knitting patterns? Play Gobstones? The bastard is going to kill us on sight."
"We have to give Neville a chance, Draco. He's the only person who could possibly be the Chosen One." Harry aimed his next words at his floating friend. "We need you, Neville - no the whole world needs you - to point a wand and say Avada Kedavra. That's all you need to do," he said, in what he hoped was a convincing voice. "It doesn't matter if we catch Voldemort first and hold him steady for you. As long as we satisfy the prophecy."
"Damn this prophecy, Harry," said Draco. "If we survive, I'm going to have a word to Trelawney. Couldn't she have prophesised something easy, like Voldemort dropping dead of his own accord?"
Everyone chuckled nervously. But Harry stifled his laughter and raised his index finger to his lips, indicating the need for silence.
Naturally, Draco kept talking, though he kept his voice low. "Severus is up there. Maybe HE'S keeping Voldemort busy?"
As they rounded the second last flight of stairs, it became clear that Draco was right. Two voices floated down from top of the tower. Silently, Harry put Neville down.
"You destroyed Harry Potter!" Voldemort's high-pitched voice shook with fury.
"You wanted the boy dead, my Lord. Why does it matter who killed him? Surely you should be rewarding me." Snape's voice was at its silkiest.
"I'll reward you as you deserve! Disobeying my orders is a capital crime!"
"You mean to kill me?" Snape sounded bored. "If you must, I suppose."
Voldemort's high-pitched laughter echoed down the stairwell. "It's almost a pity. You're not quite as worthless as the rest of them, Severus. They've already suffered the fate that they deserved."
"You're abandoning your Death Eaters? Your only family?"
"Conquered by mere half-breeds, they deserve it," sneered Voldemort. "But your death will be useful to me, Severus. I'd planned to Transfigure one of these stones into a broomstick. But the human to broomstick Transfiguration is far easier. It will kill you, but you deserve this punishment, don't you?"
The quartet, and Neville were climbing the final stairs. Neville's wand shook uncontrollably.
"If you say so, my Lord," said Snape sarcastically.
"Goodbye, Severus Snape."
No! Don't kill Severus! Harry thought. He remembered how Cedric Diggory had died so quickly and senselessly, and he put on an extra burst of speed but the stairs went on forever. The door seemed miles away. He had to save Severus. He had to...
He was just in time to see Voldemort, standing on the crenulated parapet wall as though about to fly away, and looking down at Snape. As quick as a striking snake, Voldemort raised his wand and fired off a spell.
"Virgacreo!"
Harry was too late.
But even as the bile-yellow spell left Voldemort's wand, Snape responded. With a feline grace he sidestepped the attack, which shattered a stone behind him, and brought his own wand up in a silent blur of movement and light. Voldemort's wand went spinning out of his hand, and Snape reached up and plucked it casually out of the air.
Suddenly rendered wandless by his most trusted servant, Voldemort couldn't have looked more surprised if the night sky had turned green, or the stars had started dancing in conga lines. The stealthy, secretive black panther, undetected for so long, had pounced; but even now, with Snape smirking as he held his captured wand, Voldemort didn't understand. His red eyes narrowed into slits. "Give it back to me, Severus! At once!" he ordered.
"No," said Snape softly.
Voldemort bared his teeth, and was clearly about to castigate his errant Death Eater, when he spotted the quartet and Neville in the doorway. All five were brandishing their wands at him, and without the Glamours over their eyes, the quartet were obviously very much alive.
"You've lost, Voldemort," said Harry, with relish and relief. He grinned at Snape.
Shocked beyond reason, at the appearance of the boy he thought of as the Chosen One and only one who could defeat him, Voldemort took an involuntary step backwards, and teetered for a moment on the edge of the parapet, before he recovered his balance. Disbelief and horror were written all over his face.
Snape, by comparison, seemed utterly composed. He held up and examined Voldemort's wand. "Yew with phoenix feather. A wand of poisonous wood, with the powers of death and resurrection. The wand chooses the wizard. But I wonder if this wand knew its eventual fate?"
Voldemort stared at him, speechless.
"What fate?" asked Harry.
"This one!" Snape had never looked more dangerous. Holding Voldemort's wand in both hands, he brought it down hard and snapped it over his knee. Harry heard the eerie, spine-tingling music of phoenix song and saw a burst of red-golden flame, as the wand broke into two pieces. Then the light and music faded to nothing. The broken pieces Snape held, were now mere hollow sticks.
Voldemort let out a bestial scream of agony. He held out both begging arms in the direction of his broken wand, and sank, whimpering, to his knees, his chalk-white face comical and clown-like, in its rictus of horror and fear. Now, at last, too late, he realised Snape was his enemy.
Draco gasped, and yanked down his left sleeve. On his forearm, the Dark Mark was a shadow, a moving, writhing tattoo. But as Harry watched, it evaporated out of Draco's skin like black mist. For a moment, the smoky skull with a snake through its mouth, lingered threateningly in the air, and then it faded away. Draco's arm was pale and clean again.
"Your magic is over, Tom," stated Snape, dispelling the remains of his own Dark Mark, with an idle wave of his hand. His wand twitched and the broken pieces of Voldemort's wand fell to dust.
Voldemort cringed and rocked himself, moaning in his misery.
"Dumbledore is my true master. I've spent years fighting secretly against you, and you never even suspected," said Snape contemptuously. "And speaking of Dumbledore, he would have wanted to see this. Lily too. Expecto Patronum!"
The silvery forms of Dumbledore and Lily exploded into view, and Voldemort stood up hastily and stepped backwards in order to put as much distance between himself and the spirit guardian as possible. The Patronus settled and Harry thought his heart would burst with happiness, when his mother laid her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Voldemort, conscious that the love shining in his eyes was a poison to his enemy.
Vengeance is sweet," Snape crooned. "There you are, standing above the spot my friend, the greatest wizard of all time, Albus Dumbledore, stood when I was forced to kill him. Thanks to you!"
"You'll die like Dumbledore! I'll kill you, Severus! I'll kill you all!" Voldemort screeched. Like a cornered beast, his terror was changing into rage.
"Is that so? Then try a wandless Avada Kedavra, Tom. Try a wandless ANYTHING." Snape sneered. He waited, but Voldemort didn't move. "I know what you're capable of, and if I though you were the slightest bit dangerous without your wand, you'd already be dead. I even know what name causes you maximum anguish. Don't I, Tom?"
Voldemort looked so ridiculous in his impotent rage that the quartet and Neville started to laugh, and Harry wondered at himself. At Hogwarts, he'd often seen Draco at Snape's side, laughing (sycophantically, or so Harry had thought at the time) at his cruel and sarcastic comments. It made a pleasant change to see Snape's intimidation skills being aimed at the one person who actually deserved them.
"The name of my filthy Muggle father is your only weapon, traitor," said Voldemort. Despite his brave words, he was edging backwards. "You cannot win! That accursed Muggle-lover, Dumbledore, had a hundred and fifty years of life. I will have forever! Kill me, and when you are all doddering and old, I will come back, stronger than I am now, and FINISH you! I am IMMORTAL!" His voice rose to a scream.
"I have one word to say to that, Tom," said Snape. "Horcruxes!"
Voldemort froze.
"They are destroyed! All six!" continued Snape. "You only had six, Tom. I can read it in your mind. You cannot perform Occlumency without a wand."
Voldemort broke eye contact, but it was too late.
Harry spoke up proudly. "Draco captured the snake. I destroyed the diary. Dumbledore destroyed the ring. But Severus did most of the work."
"It was I who destroyed the Horcruxes in the snake, in Hufflepuff's cup, Slytherin's locket and in Harry's Gryffindor scar," said Snape.
At every item, Voldemort flinched, as though struck. By the final item, he was gibbering in fear, and dribbling like a pathetic old clown. "I'm mortal! And the Chosen One is here!" He stared at Harry.
Neville nervously raised a hand.
But it was Snape who spoke. "Harry Potter isn't the Chosen One, you old fool. Neither is Neville Longbottom. I AM the Chosen One!"
Everyone turned to stare at him.
"Who destroyed most of your Horcruxes? Who stayed at your side for years, saving your victims, and spying on you undetected? Who tricked you into coming to Hogwarts, where the hundred and ten house elves, who keep my secrets, and Dumbledore's, and still serve me, destroyed your Death Eaters? Who is going to vanquish you now?"
Voldemort inched backwards. "Vanquish?"
"Yes, vanquish. That is the word from the prophecy. The prophecy I heard every word of, though I only told you half. Now you will learn it all."
"Severus, you're teaching again," Harry pointed out. He was vastly intrigued. Was Severus Snape truly the Chosen One?
Snape glanced at Harry and his lips twitched. "Why should I break the habit of a lifetime for that dunderhead on the parapet?"
"I don't think telling him the whole prophecy is a good idea," said Hermione.
"Why not? If Severus vanquishes Voldemort straight afterwards, it doesn't matter," said Harry, grinning savagely.
"Tell him! I want to hear," said Neville.
Snape recited the prophecy:
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives..."
"B-But you can't be the Chosen One, Severus. You were born in January, not July," stuttered Voldemort.
"How long have you know that?" Snape drew himself up threateningly.
Voldemort cringed. "Fifteen years!" His voice was even higher pitched than usual.
"Fifteen years! You've known the date of my birthday all that time?" Snape's voice reached a crescendo of mock rage. "And you haven't given me a single birthday present?"
The quartet and Neville snorted with laughter.
"The birth refers to my REBIRTH," Snape continued, when the laughter had died down. "When my half prophecy sent you, Tom, after the Potters and the Longbottoms, when July ended, I knew the time had come to go to Dumbledore. On that day, I shed all the beliefs, all the allegiances, of my old life. I gained a new life: a new job, new friends, membership of the Order of the Phoenix, and a new Patronus." He gazed lovingly at the silvery figures. "I was born again to Lily Potter, and Albus Dumbledore, both of whom had thrice defied you, Tom!"
Neville's eyes widened. "My Mum and Dad defied Voldemort three times." He said the name of the conquered wizard in front of him without any trouble at all. "Is that why you thought I was the Chosen One, Harry?"
"Yes, Neville. I'm sorry we exhausted you for nothing."
Draco chortled.
"M-Mark him as his equal," Voldemort stuttered, pointing a trembling finger at Harry's now unmarked forehead.
"I'd call you a fool, Tom," said Snape silkily. "But even Dumbledore made that mistake. That Horcrux scar on Harry's forehead wasn't the mark from the prophecy. But I can't show you the real Mark now. It was one you gave me, to Mark me as your equal, your family, Tom, though you have even less idea of happy family life than my vicious Muggle father. It was my Dark Mark, which has now..." He raised his left arm and pulled down his sleeve, exposing unmarked flesh. "...gone."
Voldemort actually whimpered.
"And power the Dark Lord knows not?" asked Neville, fascinated.
"You four answer that. Surprise me with your acumen," said Snape, gesturing at the quartet.
Harry grinned, feeling once again as though he were back in school. To his amusement, Hermione stuck her hand up.
"A hundred and ten house elves," she said eagerly, standing on tiptoes.
"Put your hand down, girl," said Snape irritably. "Yes, I predict a great change in the status of house elves, after what they have achieved here tonight, in front of the Ministry."
Hermione beamed.
"Fast reflexes?" suggested Ron.
"The power of Occlumency," said Draco. He had been dignified enough not to stick up his hand.
"Love," said Harry. "Don't make that face at me, Severus. Love of my mother, and Dumbledore is what changed your life. But I think all of us are right, and you may even have other powers we haven't mentioned." He grinned. "Do we get House Points?"
"Harry, do you recall our previous conversation about your maturity?" Snape's eyes glittered.
"Yes."
"I've changed my mind. You lack it entirely."
Harry stuck his tongue out. "There's one last thing I don't understand. You weren't born, or reborn, when you first heard the prophecy. So why didn't you tell the whole thing to Vold ... Tom here?"
"Because I already suspected I was the Chosen One."
"How did you know?"
"Have you ever heard Professor Trelawney give one of her true prophecies?"
"Yes. That strange voice she uses..."
"Then you'll understand how I knew I was the Chosen One. Imagine that voice saying 'the Chosen One approaches, marked as the Dark Lord's equal' when YOU'RE the one approaching the door and your Dark Mark is burning!"
"You really are the Chosen One," said Harry. He was elated. He was free!
"Are you going to vanquish Voldemort now, Professor Snape?" asked Neville.
"Vanquish the last descendant of Salazar Slytherin? Severus, you were Head of Slytherin's own House! How can you justify such treachery? How can you justify consorting with Mudbloods that Slytherin himself would have killed?" sneered Voldemort. Sweat was pouring down his face.
Snape looked irritated. "You clearly haven't read Hogwarts: A History."
"He's not the only one," murmured Hermione, glancing sideways through narrowed eyes at Harry and Ron.
"Salazar Slytherin was a famed pure-blood, and anti-Muggle fanatic but such views were commonplace and justified a thousand years ago," said Snape. "Muggles were murdering us! Slytherin lost nearly all of his relatives, and all of his students. So he, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff banded together to create a secluded place, called Hogwarts, outside Muggle society, where they could teach magic in safety."
"Safety? Slytherin put a basilisk in the school!" scoffed Harry.
"Yes, but only after he'd been teaching for five decades. I know exactly how he feels," said Snape snidely.
Harry opened his mouth, but Snape cut him off. "Seriously, though, Slytherin was a hundred and fifty years old, when the school began. Powerful wizards start going senile at that age." Snape took a deep breath. "A thousand years ago, life for wizards and witches was tougher than we can possibly imagine today. Muggle-born students going home from school, for their holidays, would be captured and tortured for the names of other witches and wizards. At the age of two hundred, in his growing madness, Slytherin decided that Muggle-borns were naturally untrustworthy. Even when the students in question were only twelve years old and being tortured for information by their own parents! But Slytherin didn't always think that way. Do you honestly imagine the other three would have formed a school with him if he'd been keen, from the start, to murder a quarter of the students?"
Harry closed his mouth.
"I think part of the reason Dumbledore tricked me into killing him, was because he didn't want to risk ending up like Slytherin. I saw Dumbledore's boggart once. It was himself - senile, insane and evil. He imagined himself murdering the students he'd have died to protect while in his right mind, and no one was powerful enough to stop him," said Snape, staring into space. His Dumbledore Patronus rested a hand gently on his shoulder.
"So that's why Gryffindor threw Slytherin out?" asked Harry.
Snape shook himself, and his pensive mood vanished. "Gryffindor didn't throw Slytherin out! Another Slytherin did the deed. Salazar's most trusted and powerful student - Perseus Evans."
Harry gave a start.
"Was he related to your mother, Harry? I don't know. It was over a thousand years ago. He could have been related to any one of us." Snape glared at Voldemort. "Don't dare call me traitor! I'm merely following the ancient, honourable tradition of Slytherin House - cleaning out the lunatics! Slytherin, in his right mind, would have been ashamed of you, Tom! You're so inbred, your insanity started from birth!"
"You're going to vanquish Voldemort now? What does vanquish actually mean?" asked Neville.
"To conquer, defeat or subjugate," said Hermione instantly.
"Not kill then," said Neville.
Snape's wand, which had been pointing squarely at Voldemort, as though taking aim, wobbled. "Not necessarily," he said slowly.
"Voldemort is vanquished already, Severus," said Harry. "The prophecy is complete, and Voldemort doesn't have to be murdered." He'd seen that wand wobble and understood. Dumbledore had BEGGED for Snape to kill him. But Voldemort had his hands together and was begging for mercy. Snape couldn't kill anyone in cold blood. Not even Voldemort.
"I'll do it," said Harry. He raised his own wand, and stared the grovelling Dark wizard in the eye. This wizard murdered my parents, he thought. "Avada..." he began, but the words caught in his throat.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, I'll do it," said Ron. He raised his wand...
"Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe," whispered Draco, lowering his wand completely. His face was haunted, Harry guessed with memories of Dumbledore's death. Harry wrapped a comforting arm around him.
Suddenly, Voldemort yelped. Bat bogeys were flapping around his face and he tried to flick them away.
"Don't look at me like that," said Ron to Snape and the quartet. "I couldn't kill him. I had to do something!"
Hermione studied her feet. Neville paced in frustration.
Amid the flapping bogeys, Voldemort stared down at them Slowly, his confidence was returning. "None of you is brave enough to kill me?" he asked. When no one replied, he threw back his head and laughed, nearly swallowing a bogey.
"It's a very terrible thing for one wizard to kill another. That's what you never learned, Tom, and look at the state of you," said Snape. "No, Tom, I have a better idea." His expression became devilish. "The Muggle asylum!"
Instantly, Voldemort's new-found confidence evaporated, and he was cast back into cringing misery, now with livened up with bat bogeys.
"Dumbledore showed you the memory of his first meeting with Tom," stated Harry.
"Yes, he did," said Snape. "What a foul, little child you were, Tom! Hanging pet rabbits from the rafters! The child who tortures animals grows up to torture people. But you started on people earlier than most, didn't you? Those two children you took to the cave?"
"I didn't mean to hurt them. They asked for it. Don't take me to the asylum," whimpered Voldemort. He sounded like a frightened ten-year-old.
"Did you think, when you found out you were a wizard, Tom, that you'd escaped the asylum for good?" asked Snape silkily. "No, it's been waiting for you all along, Tom. Biding its time. Without your wand, you're nothing more than a crazy old man. Soon you'll be drugged up and dribbling in a straightjacket, like the rest of the psychopaths."
An insane terror came over Voldemort. "Don't make me go there! Please!"
"No one there will believe anything you say about your former life. A wizard? Ha! Your powers have gone! Soon, all your memories will seem like delusions, Tom. You won't believe you were ever a wizard. You won't believe that you were ever special at all!"
Not being special was the final straw for Voldemort. He took a step backwards, gibbering in terror, but it was one step too far. His foot went out into the empty air, and he fell. Windmilling his arms comically, he let out a high-pitched scream and tumbled backwards out of sight.
Harry, and everyone else, rushed to the parapet and peered down. They saw Voldemort's screaming, tumbling, flailing figure still falling. Then the scream suddenly cut off, with a wet crunch, as he struck the rocks far below, and lay still.
Dumbledore been peaceful and majestic in death. But Voldemort's clothing was in disarray, and his slitted nostrils, red eyes and deathly pale skin made him look like a badly painted carnival head. His corpse was absurd and laughable. His death shameful and ignominious. Voldemort's boggart would have looked exactly as Voldemort did now.
Harry watched to see if the spirit form of Voldemort would leave his body. He watched for any evidence at all that the Dark wizard, despite their best efforts to destroy the Horcruxes, was still clinging to life. But he saw nothing.
Hermione turned away from the corpse first. "So that's what the prophecy meant? Neither can live while the other survives, but you didn't need to kill him, only vanquish him. Because Voldemort killed himself by accident in the end." She was breathing deeply, as though fighting the urge to be sick.
"Either must die at the hand of the other," said Snape, still staring down. "Voldemort's hand must have meant Wormtail's silver hand. I made sure Wormtail was taken care of downstairs. Even if he'd survived, he wouldn't have tried to help his master. He owes you a life debt, Harry, and he thought you were the Chosen One. But I'm babbling. Is Voldemort truly dead?" He raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra!" The green spell passed through the body, far below, without change, and plunged into the ground.
"How far does the Killing Curse go through solid rock? I only ask, because you may have just given someone in China a very bad day," said Harry.
"It only travels a few centimetres," Snape said. "Otherwise, those wizards fighting in the Middle East would have killed the whole world by now."
Neville stared at the corpse. "Does Voldemort look vanquished to you?"
Harry gave an involuntary, undignified snort of laughter. He wasn't quite sure why, as Neville's comment wasn't particularly funny. Perhaps he just needed a break in the tension. But Draco and Ron started to laugh (at him Harry suspected) and Hermione chuckled and covered her mouth with her hand.
Harry couldn't remember Snape laughing properly before, but he started laughing now, an infectious, deep roar that made Harry snort all the harder. Without his usual disagreeable expression, Snape actually looked handsome and Harry no longer wondered what his mother had seen in him. You're not my father, Harry thought. But you could be my friend and mentor.
"Voldemort IS vanquished!" exclaimed Snape.
"Completely vanquished," said Ron. Hermione kissed him.
"That is a vanquished Voldemort," drawled Draco, then he grinned when Harry hugged him from behind.
"The Ministry must be informed," said Snape.
"I can't wait to tell them, that you're the Chosen One," said Harry.
To Harry's surprise, Snape glared at him. "You don't mind me stealing your glory? Taking your fame?"
"I NEVER WANTED TO BE FAMOUS!" Harry shouted.
Snape looked doubtful.
"I never did," said Harry more quietly. "I hated everyone staring at me. I hated having lies printed about me, and my friends, in the Daily Prophet. I would have swapped every galleon I owned for a peaceful life but I never had the opportunity."
"Is that so?" Snape sounded doubtful. "Are you sure you don't mind missing out on all the attention? You seemed to enjoy it-"
"I HATED the attention and I'll prove it. Rita Skeeter's downstairs. I'll march right up to her and tell her to bother YOU for a change, Severus. Would you like that?"
Snape's eyes actually lit up. "I would LOVE that!"
oOoOoOo
Every single, living Death Eater was tied up and unconscious. The freed hostages were gathered around the main table, where Harry saw Scrimgeour talking to the assembled house elves.
"Order of Merlin, First Class! Every one of you!"
All hundred and ten house elves bowed and giggled.
"And clothes! You deserve to be free," Scrimgeour added.
Clearly, the house elves disagreed. They stared at Scrimegour in horror, and as one, they clicked their fingers and vanished.
"Ungrateful little..." Scrimgeour muttered. Then he caught sight of Snape, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Draco and Neville emerging from the side door. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Snape. "Death Eater!" he cried, and some of the hostages squealed.
Harry stood in front of Snape. "Severus is not a Death Eater," he announced. "He is the true Chosen One. Voldemort has just been vanquished by his hand!"
The hostages heard the name and looked at each other. Harry could see that they believed him. Ever since Voldemort's wand had been destroyed, saying his name no longer caused fear.
"Tell us what happened," demanded Scrimgeour. Rita Skeeter was panting in excitement and clutching her notepad.
Harry gave everyone an account of the night's events, paying particular attention to Snape's role. He saw Rita scribbling notes with her Quick Quotes Quill. "Severus Snape's not a Death Eater, he's a hero," he concluded.
"Order of Merlin, First Class for Severus Snape!" roared Scrimgeour. "I'll invent a higher award just for you!"
Snape's sallow skin flushed. He'd never looked happier. He slipped into the chattering crowd of hostages, all congratulating him. Harry smiled. Fame and fortune had eluded Snape all his life. Now it had found him. Rita Skeeter was stabbing everyone who stood between her and Snape, with her quill.
"Harry!" Fred and George chorused. They rushed over and hugged him.
Breaking out of their grip, Harry asked. "What are you two doing here?"
"Pansy Parkinson took pity on us and shagged us both," said Fred.
"Of course she did, you're both rich," muttered Draco, so quietly that only Harry could hear.
"Then we put on our virgin disguise hats afterwards. It wasn't pretty, Harry. The magic in the hats must have reacted with our lack of virginity. You wouldn't believe where we've got tentacles sprouting now. Mum took us straight to St Mungo's, where Death Eaters kidnapped us," said George glumly.
"We're going to have to go back to the drawing board with those hats," said Fred.
"How awful," said Harry, aware that Ron had collapsed with laughter behind him and Draco was steering him away. "I'll see you guys around!"
"I want to shag you senseless, Harry," said Draco, the moment he'd dragged Harry aside. He leaned in for a kiss, but Harry stopped him.
"Not in front of Rita Skeeter! Let's go back to the Headquarters ... no! Let's go to the Leaky Cauldron. They have four-poster beds."
Draco's eyes blazed. "Brilliant!"
There was a popping noise, and Harry staggered. Dobby had just wrapped himself around his legs. "Harry Potter, sir! He Who Must Not Be Named, can finally be named! Voldemort! Voldemort! Voldemort! Voldemort! Dobby is a very happy elf now, sir!"
"It's wonderful, Dobby. Thanks for your help," said Harry, trying to escape.
"It's just as the Sorting Hat said, sir. All the Houses are friends now, sir!" said Dobby, in a loud and penetrating voice. "Harry Potter, sir, you and Draco Malfoy was always fighting, but now both of you is shagging each other, sir!"
Unfortunately, Dobby's announcement must have occurred during a lull in the conversation, for every single person in the Great Hall heard, and turned to stare. Harry and Draco blushed, utterly mortified.
"Shagging?" asked Rita Skeeter, looking like all her Christmases had come at once. She had been asking Snape a question, but now she moved away from him and towards Harry and Draco, her quill at the ready.
"Oh no!" muttered Harry, pushing Dobby off his legs.
"How long have you known you were gay, Harry?" asked Rita, closing in.
Harry grabbed Draco's hand. "Chosen One," he shouted at Snape. "I'll leave you to handle your publicity. We're getting out of here!"
oOoOoOo
Author's Notes: Voldemort has rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. He is an ex-Voldemort. Now for Harry and Draco's celebratory shagging! (If they can get away from Rita Skeeter first. ;-)
Perseus Evans is an anagram of Severus Snape. If Voldemort had read Hogwarts: A History, he might have guessed what was coming.
Only a shagging chapter, and a quick epilogue left! The light at the end of the tunnel is visible. I think it may be a train on fire, though. ;-)
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