Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Three - The Flight of the Prince
Harry let the cloak fall from his hand, where it lay in a silken puddle at his feet. For a moment, silence reigned at the top of the astronomy tower, as each of the surrounding Death Eaters were too stunned to move or speak.
It was Amycus who recovered from his shock first, though it was only to whisper, "Harry Potter…" in a voice bordering between fear and awe.
"That's right," Harry said with unutterable calm as he faced the small troop of adversaries. "You can tell your master that I did what he never could. Tell him that I killed Dumbledore. And I'm coming for him next."
Bellatrix let out an ear-piercing screech as she raised her wand above her head, prepared to strike. But before she could unleash a fatal blow against Harry, Snape had stepped between them. In one swift move, he disarmed Bellatrix, catching her wand in his left hand.
"I knew it!" Bellatrix screamed, pointing an accusing finger toward Snape. "I knew you were a traitor!"
"That can't be true!" squealed Alecto as she staggered backward. Her eyes darted between the sight of Snape, standing in defense of Harry, toward the trapdoor at her feet, as though she were already contemplating a hasty exit.
Amycus cursed under his breath. Like his sister, he began edging toward the door as he wheezed, "I don't believe this, Severus. You would betray the Dark Lord? Or have you been serving Potter this whole time?"
"Always," Snape replied, flicking his wrist once more to disarm both siblings in one move.
Unarmed and terrified of the threat that Harry and Snape posed together, Amycus and Alecto quickly bolted down the stairs. Goyle took a step toward the trapdoor, as if he planned to follow them, but he hesitated. Between himself and the exit stood Bellatrix and Greyback, both looking positively murderous.
Greyback held no wand in his hand. Perhaps he had been disarmed during the fighting that still seemed to be waging below. Or perhaps he had simply forgotten that he was a wizard, as well as werewolf, preferring his teeth and claws to more sophisticated dueling. Whatever the case, he could do little more than growl and bare his pointed, yellow teeth at Snape as he flexed his hands.
"You're dead," he snarled.
"What are you going to do, Fenrir?" asked Snape in a patronizing tone, "It's three against two. You may have the numbers, but what is a werewolf, an unarmed witch, and a child going to do against me and The Boy Who Lived?"
"Potter doesn't scare us," spat Bellatrix, looking very much as though she was still considering a fight. Goyle, on the other hand, had turned rather pale. A moment ago he had been prepared to murder an unarmed Dumbledore, but an unfair ambush seemed to be the height of his ambition. The prospect of a duel against his professor and Harry Potter did not seem appealing to him, and Harry did not wonder why. Very likely, Goyle was remembering the last time they had fought.
Harry directed his gaze at Goyle, seeing him again in his mind's eye, bleeding on the floor of the seventh floor corridor from innumerable cuts, while he said, "You think I care what happens to you? After what I just did to Dumbledore… You think I'll hesitate to kill you, too?"
He spoke with more confidence than he truly felt, but his words had their desired effect. Goyle turned away, clearly shaken, and even Bellatrix seemed to be reevaluating her options. She glared at Harry, then at her wand, still clutched in Snape's fist, while his own wand was pointed directly at her chest.
Seconds seemed like minutes while she made up her mind, before she finally spat, "Fenrir, with me. Goyle, you guard our exit. We wouldn't want the coward to make a move while our backs are turned."
As though to prove that she wasn't actually scared, Bellatrix turned on her heel and marched purposefully down the stairs, while Greyback spat once on the ground before he turned to follow her. They didn't seem to care whether or not Goyle got left behind.
Goyle backed slowly toward the exit, keeping his own wand trained on Snape the entire time, though his eyes were locked on Harry's.
"Be seeing you," said Harry with chilling significance just before Goyle lumbered down the stairs, slamming the trapdoor shut behind him.
Snape muttered a spell under his breath, sealing the entrance shut, before he turned slowly toward Harry, his white face tinted a sickly green from the light of the Dark Mark, still glowing malevolently overhead.
"What have you done?" he breathed.
Harry's wand slipped from his fingers. He doubled over, hands pressed against his knees as he vomited on the ground. All the calm confidence he had exuded before the Death Eaters vanished in an instant, leaving him a shaking, trembling mess.
"He was dying!" Harry gasped when there was nothing left in his stomach to discharge. "He was dying and he… He was going to make you do it! I couldn't let you… I couldn't let it happen… Not like that! Not like…"
Words failed him. He could try to explain that the curse that plagued Dumbledore was the same that killed Sirius. That Dumbledore himself had claimed he had only a year or so to live. But no matter what excuses he made, the inescapable truth was that Harry had performed an Unforgivable Curse. He had taken a life. He was a murderer.
His breath was coming in choking sobs now. His knees felt weak, as though they were going to collapse under him. Then Snape did something unexpected. He wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders, cradling him close as though he could stop his frantic shaking.
"It should have been me," he murmured, "Harry, it was supposed to be me."
Harry shook his head, though he had no energy to argue. He forgot all the anger he had previously felt toward Snape as he returned the embrace, sobbing into his shoulder as he had seen Remus do not long ago, when they had buried Sirius.
All was still and quiet at the top of the tower, but from below, deep within the castle, there came renewed shouts and distant bangs. The Death Eaters must have met resistance as they tried to make their escape.
Snape pulled away as Harry's tears subsided and his breathing returned to normal. He gripped Harry's shoulders with both hands as he forced Harry to look him in the eye.
"Harry, we haven't got much time. You must listen to me," he said. "Members of the Order are here. They'll come looking for you soon. You have to tell them that I killed Dumbledore."
"No," said Harry instantly.
The hands that held his shoulders gripped harder, almost hurting him as Snape insisted, "You must! Don't you understand? This was Dumbledore's plan from the beginning. I must take the blame!"
"You can't!" Harry argued, his voice breaking as tears threatened to spill from his eyes once more. "I'm the one… I killed…"
"You are a symbol, Harry!" Snape interrupted. "The Boy Who Lived! The Chosen One! With Dumbledore gone, those who would stand against Lord Voldemort will rally around you!"
Harry understood what Snape was trying to say. If everyone knew the truth, then Harry would be thrown into Azkaban with the other dark wizards. There would be no one left to hunt the horcruxes. No one who could face Voldemort with any hope of winning...
But still, Harry argued, "What about the Death Eaters? Bellatrix and Greyback… They'll tell Voldemort the truth, then everyone will know!"
Snape shook his head. "No… The Dark Lord will do everything in his power to keep the truth from spreading. It makes him look weak. If his followers learned that it was Harry Potter, and not himself, nor a Death Eater who defeated Dumbledore… They may abandon his cause in favor of a stronger opponent."
"But he'll still know the truth," Harry insisted. "He'll still know that you betrayed him."
"Yes…" said Snape slowly, turning over his options in his mind, "I will no longer be able to act as a spy. But perhaps I will be more useful as a free agent… In the meantime, I'll go into hiding. I'll think of something…"
"Grimmauld Place," said Harry, the very words serving as confirmation of what he already suspected. The house had been willed to Harry by Sirius, but Remus was still the Secret Keeper. He must have told Snape about the location of the Order's safehouse. "The Order doesn't use it anymore, and the Death Eaters won't be able to reach you there."
"And the last place anyone would expect to find me is in Sirius Black's old home," Snape concluded. He gripped Harry's shoulder again, this time in a gesture of thanks, then said, "We should go. I can still hear fighting. Perhaps some of the Death Eaters have been caught…"
"What if it's Bellatrix?" asked Harry anxiously, his mind rushing to a scenario in which one of the witnesses to his crime was captured, and exposed the truth to a member of the Order.
"Then I will do what I must to ensure their silence," Snape replied with grim significance. "No more arguments, Harry. You must promise me that you will tell them I killed Dumbledore. Even if you are accused, you must deny it!"
Harry's instinct was to rebel, to flee down the steps before Snape could stop him, to scream the truth at the top of his voice and throw himself on the mercy of the Order of the Phoenix. But the calmer, more rational side of him saw the sense in Snape's arguments. With quiet resignation, he muttered, "I promise…"
"Good, now put on your cloak. Do not remove it until the fighting has stopped."
Harry obeyed his command silently, picking up his wand and cloak before following Snape through the trapdoor and down the spiral staircase into the castle below.
What he found was chaos. Half of the ceiling seemed to have fallen in, filling the dimly lit corridor with dust. Several Death Eaters, their faces obscured by their dark cloaks, were still engaged in battle. Harry struggled to make out the figures of those who had come to defend the school, seeking the familiar faces of members of the Order.
"It's over!" he heard a woman screech over the sounds of tumult, "Let's go!"
Harry turned and saw Bellatrix Lestrange disappear around the corner at the far end of the corridor. Snape had noticed her, too. With calm deliberation, he followed after her.
Harry felt a sudden jolt of fear. He recalled what Snape had said at the top of the tower, of doing whatever he must to ensure the silence of the Death Eaters. There was no doubt in his mind that Snape would enter into a duel with Bellatrix if it meant keeping Harry's secret. But what if the others had already learned of his betrayal? What if Bellatrix were leading Snape into a trap?
Harry pursued them both. Hidden beneath his invisibility cloak, he could maneuver around the rubble and dueling witches and wizards, unnoticed and unharmed.
Snape fired off a couple of stunning spells as he passed along the corridor, incapacitating, but not injuring two of the figures closest to them. Harry stepped over the inert bodies carefully, glancing down to ensure he didn't trip. Then he froze. Laying at his feet, her face as relaxed as though she were sleeping, was Hermione. Harry turned his face toward the other figure and was stunned to see Neville, unconscious and breathing deeply.
But how? He had assumed it was only the members of the Order fighting the Death Eaters, perhaps even a few teachers. Why were Hermione and Neville there?
The background sting of panic that had never completely left him, not since the top of the astronomy tower, threatened to overwhelm him again. He tore his gaze away from Hermione and Neville, searching through the clouds of dust, his eyes dazzled by the flashes of light as spells were cast around him. Fear led him to expect to see Blaise and Millie among the fallen, perhaps less lucky than the stunned Gryffindors.
He didn't see his friends, but Snape, intent on his own pursuit of Bellatrix, had proceeded down the hall without him. Harry watched as he sent two more stunning spells flying, striking two rather short figures, sending them sprawling on the floor. Harry, after casting one last anxious look at Hermione and Neville, ran forward to see who they were. His confusion mounted as he stared down at Colin and Dennis Creevy. He cast his eyes around the melee again. There, down an adjoining corridor, stood Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, blocking the entrance to the Room of Requirement from a tall blond Death Eater who was trying to escape. And in the opposite direction, Ron and Ginny Weasley stood back to back, facing Death Eaters on either side.
At last, Harry understood. It was the Marauders, the band of students who came together last year, trained by Harry and Millie to defend themselves against threats like this. But why had they joined the fight? Who had summoned them?
This was no time to entertain such questions. The hem of Snape's black robes had just disappeared around the corner. Harry plunged after him, ducking as a jet of green light flew just over his invisible head. He prayed that the spell had not met its mark, not daring to turn around to check.
Suddenly, his feet slipped against something wet on the floor. He stumbled, catching himself before he fell into what looked like a pool of blood. He felt sick as his eyes met the unfortunate soul laying facedown in the sticky puddle. Once again, he thought of Goyle, suffering under the effects of the sectumsempra hex… Of Dumbledore, laying at the base of the astronomy tower…
Harry swallowed the bile in his throat and pressed onward, pushing the thought from his mind, determined to catch up with Snape. He sprinted along the corridor, ignoring the bangs that continued to issue from behind him, the shouts as the remaining Death Eaters realized, too late, that it was time to retreat. Skidding around the corner, he saw that he had lost sight of Snape, entirely. The next corridor was completely empty, but with the Room of Requirement blocked, there was only one direction he could have gone.
Harry pelted through a short cut, one of the hidden passages he had memorized from the Marauder's Map. When he burst out the other side, he heard more shouts and a few screams. It seemed that the rest of the castle had woken up. Everywhere, confused students dressed in pajamas and dressing gowns were gathering in the halls, asking one another what was going on, and whether anyone had looked out the window… Did they see…?
Harry ignored them all, racing down a flight of marble stairs toward the front entrance of the castle. The oak front doors had been blasted open, the remains hanging in splintered fragments from large iron hinges. The explosion must have just occurred, for the giant Slytherin hourglass had been hit by the same curse, and the emeralds were still falling, with a loud clatter, onto the flagstones below.
Harry flew across the entrance hall, pausing at the top of the steps leading toward the dark grounds. He could barely make out three figures racing down the path toward the school gates. One appeared to be Bellatrix Lestrange, though Harry could not tell if the hulking form next to her was Fenrir Greyback, or Goyle. The third, trailing far behind the others, was Snape.
Harry watched, expecting a bolt of light to fly from Snape's wand any second, stunning, or even killing, the figures ahead of him. But the two Death Eaters passed the winged boar statues atop the pillars of the school gates, and the next instant, they disapparated.
Harry breathed a sigh as Snape, moments later, also passed beyond the school gates and disappeared from view. He, at least, had escaped unharmed.
His sense of relief was short-lived. No sooner had Snape vanished, leaving Harry standing alone on the front steps of the school, than a flickering light caught his attention. He turned, and saw a great blaze hear the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid's cabin was on fire.
He raced toward the inferno. The night air rushed past, tugging his cloak from his head and shoulders as it streamed behind him. His breath came in short, labored gasps. There was a stitch in his side. He ignored all of this as he pushed on, a cold terror gripping his heart.
"Hagrid!" he cried faintly as he staggered to a halt, as close to the heat of the fire as he dared to go. Catching his breath, he bellowed a second time, "HAGRID!"
Inexpressible relief flooded his body when the vast outline of Hagrid loomed into view, his boarhound slung over his broad shoulders.
"Harry?" Hagrid called in response. His face was blackened from soot, and there was a deep scratch under his eye that was bleeding, but he appeared otherwise unharmed. With a bewildered expression, he sat Fang on the ground. The dog, clearly terrified, bounded toward Harry, whimpering as he pressed his large body against Harry's legs, begging to be comforted.
Harry, in desperate need of some comfort himself, felt the adrenaline drain from his body. His knees buckled, and he sank to the ground.
"Blimey, Harry!" Hagrid exclaimed, reaching his side in a few long strides while Fang bathed Harry's face and glasses in saliva. "Are yeh all righ'? What's happened? What're yeh doin' out…"
"Hagrid… Your cabin…" Harry mumbled, pointing to the bonfire that had once been the groundskeeper's home.
"Oh, aye…" said Hagrid, grunting as if the loss of all his possessions were a mere inconvenience. He withdrew his wand, a long, pliable shaft of oak, and muttered, "Aguamenti."
A jet of water poured forth, dousing the flames. Harry listened in silence, one hand resting against Fang's side, as Hagrid continued to speak while he worked.
"Thought I heard a commotion up at the castle. I was just on my way to check, when I saw some folks in black cloaks runnin' out the doors. I called out to 'em, and the bas… Well, the buggers tried to attack me! Well, it'd take moren' a few jinxes to finish me, but then one o' their spells hit the cottage… Had to run in and grab Fang, poor beast. Didn' see where those others went…"
He paused as the last flame was extinguished, then stepped back to observe the smoldering wreck that was once his home.
"S'not too bad… I ought to thank you for this, Harry," he said, holding up his wand. Harry had crafted it for him in his wand-making class as a replacement for the pink umbrella he used to use. "But I think the repairs will be a little too much for me. Not to worry, though. S'nothin' Dumbledore won' be able to put right…"
Harry felt a searing pain in his stomach at the sound of the name. For a moment, he thought he'd be sick again.
"Hagrid…" he began before pausing, unable to continue.
Hagrid didn't appear to have noticed, for he continued to muse to himself. "But who were those people? Has somethin' happened at the school?"
Harry didn't know how to answer. Hadn't Hagrid noticed the Dark Mark? Was it still hanging above the astronomy tower? Harry didn't want to lift his head to check. He didn't want to look at it again. It was easier to pet Fang in silence, to feel his fur and his warmth…
"Hagrid…" Harry tried again. His throat was dry. Every breath felt raw and sharp against his throat. It seemed to him that he barely spoke above a whisper, but Hagrid must have heard something in his tone, for he turned toward Harry with renewed anxiety, kneeling next to him on the ground as though to get a better look at his face.
"What is it, Harry? Yeh aren' hurt, are yeh?"
Harry shook his head. He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell the lie. He had promised Snape, but as he stared into Hagrid's large, trusting eyes, full of concern for him, any courage he possessed abandoned him, and all he could mutter was, "It's Dumbledore… He's dead."
"Dead?" repeated Hagrid with a blank look. "Dumbledore, dead?" Harry, don' say that. What's gotten into yeh?"
"Hagrid, I was there…" Harry said, trying to explain. But it was no good. The moment the words left his mouth, his throat closed. He leaned forward, collapsing against Hagrid as he gave vent to another flood of tears.
His unchecked grief did more to plead his sincerity than any words could have done. He felt Hagrid's body stiffen for a moment, then he lifted Harry up, cradling him as if he weighed no more than a baby, and began walking him back toward the castle.
"I'm not sure what you saw, Harry, but it can't be as bad as all that," said Hagrid in a soothing voice. "Let's jus' get yeh back up ter the school, an' get this whole thing sorted out…"
Harry made no attempt to argue. He couldn't have spoken if he tried. He had started to shake uncontrollably, and it was all he could do to try to dry his tears and control his breathing. Hagrid would find out the truth soon enough, and then Harry would have to face the other professors…
Many of the castle windows were now lit. Harry could imagine the scenes inside as students moved from room to room, telling each other that Death Eaters had infiltrated the school, that the Dark Mark was shining over Hogwarts, that someone had been killed…
Light flooded from the remains of the broken front doors, bathing the path in a warm, yellow light. Slowly, uncertainly, students were creeping down the steps, looking around for some sign of the Death Eaters who had fled into the night.
Harry tried to avert his eyes, but he found himself perversely drawn to the ground at the base of the tallest tower. He imagined he could see a black, huddled mass lying on the grass there, though he was really too far away, and his glasses too dirty, to make out anything of the sort. But even as he stared wordlessly in that direction, he saw others begin to move toward it.
"What're they all lookin' at?" asked Hagrid, more to keep up his one-sided conversation than expecting a response from Harry. "Wha's that lyin' on the grass?"
"Hagrid, no…" pleaded Harry, gripped by a sudden panic. "No, don't get closer. I don't want to see…"
"See what, Harry?" asked Hagrid, just as two figures detached themselves from the crowd now forming around the astronomy tower.
"Harry!" called the first of the two. "Thank Merlin! Where were you?"
It was Millie, rushing toward him with a speed that could rival even her falcon form. Blaise was close behind her, his eyes wide with fear.
"Harry, what happened?" he asked. "They… They said you were with Dumbledore… Were you with him when he…?"
At that moment, Hagrid must have realized what lay on the ground, for he gently set Harry back on his feet, muttering to himself, "No… No, it can't be true…"
He had placed Harry before his friends, each of them gazing at him imploringly, begging for an explanation of what had occurred. The moment he had been dreading arrived.
He didn't give himself time to think. He merely opened his mouth, and said, "It was Snape. He killed Dumbledore."
Blaise's mouth fell open in stunned silence. Hagrid shook his head from side to side as he continued to mutter, "No… No, I don't believe it…"
Harry still could not bring himself to look at the form on the ground. Instead, he found himself glancing at Millie. She was staring back at him, a blank look of horror on her face. For a moment, Harry feared that she would see right through the lie. Instead, she stepped forward and hugged him.
Blaise followed her lead, and the three of them stood in a silent embrace, bathed in the green glow of the Dark Mark, still looming over their heads.