8

The Snape Chronicles—Conclusion

2 May 1998

"I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight."

Those inside the school had not heeded the warning, and as such the dark lord had ordered his Death Eaters to attack. They positioned themselves outside the castle, their enchantments joined together to break through those set by the defenders, the teachers of Hogwarts. What of the students? Where were they? Had Minerva thought to hide them from the terror to come? Severus shuddered inside as his own magic streamed together with those of his comrades, warping the wall of enchantment. For some reason he suspected Flitwick had been instrumental in setting that charm, it seemed right up his alley.

"Pour it on harder!" one of the Death Eaters screamed. "It's weakening!"

Sure enough, a section of air in front of them seemed to be wavering, a warbling, undulating wall of invisibility made somehow visible by its motion. Severus, situated behind the rest of the men attempting to force entry to the castle, reduced his stream of magic to a trickle, allowing it to butt up against the others, pushing their spells aside to prolong the moments. It was pitiful, but it was all he could do at present. With as many Death Eaters as there were, knowing the spells they knew, it wouldn't take long to burst through the barriers…to attack all that Severus had defended for so long. Inside he saw the entire castle shuddering and shaking from the force of the curses bent upon it.

Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, the protections fell from the castle with a thunderous crash. For a second the Death Eaters wavered; was it safe to pass, or were there more wards to barge through? From experience they knew that even touching the wrong ward might lead to death. Off to the side, near the covered bridge leading to the castle, Scabior—who obviously didn't know any better—thrust an arm through, then bellowed in triumph.

"It's done, they're broken!"

The crowd erupted in jubilant cheers as they raced forward toward the bridge. Severus thought he saw Sprout high up on the castle wall holding…a plant? What the hell was she thinking? Okay, maybe it was something dangerous, but it looked like a mandrake. Oh, crap! What was she thinking? The cry would kill Death Eaters, but any Hogwarts personnel who heard it as well!

As if that weren't bad enough, Severus saw Neville Longbottom on the bridge being chased by Scabior and other snatchers, turning to duel him at intervals. Snape was surprised by how much the boy seemed to know, how much he'd learned since being that idiot in Potions class who couldn't brew a pimple cream without melting his cauldron. Severus cast a quick glance about him, hoped no one was looking, and threw a curse at the bridge at the same instant Neville's hex rebounded off something. They struck simultaneously, exploding the wooden beams on the side of the stone circle. To anyone who might have seen, they'd assume Snape was aiming at the boy. The bridge fell, taking the snatchers with it into the ravine. The Death Eaters stopped, looking for another way in, and spotting the viaduct they raced for it. Already suits of armour from the castle had marched out to stand guard and bar the way.

In the distance Snape heard giants growling and calling in their guttural voices, but the smoke from the explosion had dimmed his view. He struggled through the mass, following the other Death Eaters toward the viaduct, every so often stunning one in the back, making him fall underfoot. Every Death Eater down was one less the defenders had to deal with. Giants had already stomped onto the viaduct, the suits of armour slowing them down only slightly, though two giants appeared to be dead. The Death Eaters weren't having much trouble with them, that's for sure! Metal suits were summarily blasted over the ledge again and again, crumpled like tin cans against the power of their curses. The threw curse beyond the viaduct into the courtyard and at the battlements, where castle defenders could be seen.

A piece of battlement shattered, and one of the Death Eaters apparated onto a catwalk, shot a killing curse, and a wizard fell down dead. The very idea sent more chills down Severus' spine. The anti-apparition barriers had been broken as well? Death Eaters could go almost anywhere if that were the case! He recognized members of the Order shooting spells at the Death Eaters, which marginally comforted him. At any rate there were a few real fighters present. Kingsley Shacklebolt cast a momentum-reversal spell that stopped another Death Eater from entering through a window—alright, at least they couldn't apparate directly into the castle.

"Severus! Severus!" came a voice from behind, wheezing and screaming at once over the din.

He turned to see Lucius, dirty and disheveled, face bruised, hair fallen in lank clumps over his shoulders, breathing hard, but above all looking scared to death, and Snape knew for a fact it wasn't because of the battle. He feared for Draco. Desperation shone in his eyes like a blinding light.

"Lucius, what are you doing here? You don't even have a wand!" He was set to tell him to pick up a wand from a fallen Death Eater, when Malfoy interrupted his line of thought.

"The dark lord—he wants you," Lucius panted, bending over to catch his breath. "He sent me to get you."

"Why?"

"I don't know!" shrieked Lucius frantically. "Just obey!"

Before Snape had a chance to answer, Lucius had taken off at a trot for the Shrieking Shack. Severus ran to catch up with him, and pulled Lucius down to a fast walk. "What's going on?"

Lucius stopped mid-stride, facing his friend, face set in a mask of turmoil and fury. "I. Don't. Know. He wants you for some task, that's all he said." A heartbeat passed, then he added pleadingly, "If he sends you to look for Potter, find Draco. Please, Severus, don't let him be hurt."

Snape put a hand on Lucius' shoulder, something he wasn't accustomed to doing yet it seemed the thing to do just now. "I'd never permit anything to befall Draco if it were in my power to stop it. You know that, Lucius."

Lucius bobbed his head in acknowledgement, then turned toward the shack. "He won't let me fight, he wants Draco dead so I'll suffer even more. I hate him, Severus, I hate him with everything in me!"

"I know," said Severus simply. While capable of hiding his thoughts—and therefore his friend's mutinous notions—through Occlumency, he wasn't quite so trusting of Lucius' ability to do the same. It was perhaps best to wait till he could share such ideas openly, freely. Would that day ever come?

Already they were closing in on the shack. What could the dark lord want from him? The only plausible thing seemed to be sending him to find Potter, which would be excellent, as he'd be in a position to help the brat find and destroy any horcruxes—that was why he'd come back to Hogwarts, wasn't it? Then again, the whelp wasn't known for being clever. No use in wondering, he'd find out soon enough.

Panting from hurrying across the field, from the sounds of fighting in the distance that could mean students were dying without him there to protect them, Severus burst into the room with Lucius. Out of habit he gave a quick glance about, finding no one there but Nagini in her cage in the corner. "My lord, you sent for me?" He didn't bother to kneel this time or prostrate himself.

"Yes, Severus," Voldemort answered, seeming almost distracted. To Lucius he waved a dismissive hand. "Return to the woods with the others. I shall be there shortly."

Lucius bowed while giving one last imploring gaze, which the dark wizard ignored. Beside himself with worry for his son, he bolted from the room, half-intent on storming the castle by himself to find Draco. Even as he left the shack, he knew he dared not do so; if one of the Death Eaters didn't kill him for trying to enter the castle, Voldemort would when he found him. He'd murder Draco first—assuming the boy was even still alive—while forcing his father to watch, then he'd butcher the elder Malfoy as well. On the verge of a breakdown, he stumbled back into the Forest to find Narcissa and the few Death Eaters not yet engaged in battle.

Snape's head swung back to the dark lord as his high voice rang out, "No doubt you wonder why I have recalled you from the battle, Severus?"

"Yes…yes, my lord. It's going well, we've broken through. Their resistance is crumbling—"

"—and it is doing so without your help," replied Voldemort. "Skilled wizard though you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there…"

Xxxoooxxxoooxxxoooxxxooo

I don't know why, since he is Voldemort after all, but I cannot believe he sicked that f—king snake on me!

Xxxoooxxxoooxxxoooxxxooo

His blood and silvery blue memories draining from him, Severus Snape lay on the cold wooden floor of the Shrieking Shack, his hand clinging to Potter's robes as he prayed that the idiot boy would know what to do with them. He thought he saw Potter using his wand to move the memories into a flask, the first intelligent thing he could recall the brat ever doing.

Employing a gargantuan effort, he whispered, "Look…at…me."

The green eyes, Lily's eyes, looked into his, and for a moment Severus forgot it wasn't her. All the animosity, the frustration…the pain…vanished. Then, enfeebled from blood loss, Snape's hand fell back onto the floor, landing upon the wand he'd dropped earlier. Automatically his fingers curled around it, clenching it in his fist.

The horrid high voice of Lord Voldemort pierced the air, and what little blood was left in his veins caused his heart to leap. Harry jumped to his feet, understandably shaken, beside the Weasley and Granger brats. The three children stood like statues listening to the megalomaniac ramble on, then they rushed away.

Damn you, Severus wanted to shout after them, and would have if his torn throat would have allowed it. At least Hermione, the least dull of the three, could have tried her hand at healing him! Were they all actually thick enough to believe him dead? Then again, they were Gryffindorks; thinking wasn't their strong suit.

With every bit of strength left in him, which was virtually none, Snape sluggishly lifted his wand, rested his arm across his chest, and aimed it at his throat. He clumsily scratched it over the surface of his neck while thinking the healing incantations. Once, twice, thrice he drew it across his neck, unable to see or feel exactly where it was needed. He did, however, feel the heartening sensation of wounds closing.

Panting from this small exertion, Severus dropped his hand to the floor with a 'clunk' as his knuckles struck the wood. With his other hand he ever so slowly reached into the pocket of his robe and fumbled around until his fingers grasped the bezoar he'd carried with him for no less than eighteen years; being a Potions master—a paranoid one—had seen to that. Painstakingly slowly he raised it to his mouth, and although he didn't know how much venom Nagini had injected, it was always best to be prudent. It hurt like a rabid squirrel in his throat going down, but he forced it nonetheless. He was used to pain.

"…Now listen closely, Severus. There will come a time—after my death—do not argue, do not interrupt! There will come a time when Lord Voldemort will seem to fear for the life of his snake."

"For Nagini?" Snape looked astonished.

"Precisely. If there comes a time when Lord Voldemort stops sending that snake forth to do his bidding, but keeps it safe beside him under magical protection, then, I think, it will be safe to tell Harry."

"Tell him what?"

Severus swallowed hard in his raw throat. His wand had healed the skin and blood vessels, yet another spell would be needed for inside—a potion, even better. A silent tear ran from his eye and rolled into his hair. Dumbledore had used him, had used Harry, and for what? This last, most important command to tell Harry, Severus had been unable to accomplish. If the fool boy didn't run to the pensieve and view those memories, it would all be for nothing. He wouldn't know that he himself must die. Even if Potter somehow managed to pull another trick out of his ass and kill the dark lord, Harry—with Voldemort's soul—would survive. It wouldn't be over.

Too weak from blood loss to do anything but lay shivering in the sticky pool of his life's fluid, too weak even to meditate on the fate of the world if Harry failed to kill Voldemort…and himself…Severus closed his eyes and drifted into a dreamless unconsciousness.

It may have been hours, or only a few seconds, he had no way of knowing. Severus woke with a start and remembered where he was. He'd be damned if he was going to die here in this godforsaken shack, victim of the dark lord he'd fought for so long! His wand barely off the floor, he sent a heating charm around himself, then regrouped his strength for the next spell.

The doe patronus leapt from the end of his wand, stood as if awaiting instructions, and bounded out a broken window. It was all he could do; everything now rested on her. She wouldn't fail him.

He closed his eyes once more and slipped back into unconsciousness.

Xxxoooxxxoooxxxoooxxxooo

"Professor McGonagall, may I speak with you?"

"Harry, of course!" The old woman pulled him into a hard embrace, her emotions for once let completely loose, then she straightened with a little cough and patted the bun askew on her head.

Looking every bit as weary as he felt, Harry said, "I hate to burden you with one more thing, but…well, Sn—Professor Snape. He—he was on our side."

"I know, Harry, I heard what you told…Voldemort." She winced at the name and pinched her lips tight.

"He—his body is in the Shrieking Shack. Would you come with me to bring him here? He deserves to be honoured, not left to rot—"

"Mr. Potter, I certainly would not leave Severus 'to rot'. I'm honoured that you chose me to help you," answered Minerva stiffly. The guilt roiling in her mind at all the awful things she'd said and thought about Snape came roaring to a head. "Come along."

They exited the Hall, now silent save the snores of those too tired or injured to go home. The Death Eaters who hadn't escaped the fight or been killed had been dealt with courtesy of every available auror, and were now safely tucked away in Azkaban. Peace once more reigned in the halls of Hogwarts. In the unnaturally quiet mid-morning they made their way to the shack, neither one anxious to arrive.

Harry led the way to the room where he'd witnessed the murder of Snape, and stopped abruptly in the doorway, his mouth dropping open. Minerva, assuming him to be in shock, pushed past him in a businesslike manner and halted in place. A large, dark pool of dried blood lay on the floor, but there was no Snape.

"He was here, I swear!" Potter exclaimed.

For the briefest second Minerva hesitated. Potter had undergone a lot in these past months, culminating in terrible things he'd seen and been forced to do, even offering himself up for death. Could he be punchdrunk from fatigue? Hallucinating, perhaps? But no, it didn't fit. Not able to argue with the fact that someone had lain here, and probably died here, Minerva nodded sagely. Harry had seen it, Voldemort had admitted to killing Snape here. So where was he?

"I believe you, Potter. The burning question is, who took his body and why?"

The End…or is it?

(A/N: For answers to these and many more questions, please visit my story Death Eater No More, available on this site. Reading I, Too, Shall Follow first will provide a richer experience, but Death Eater No More can stand alone. Enjoy, and thank you for reading. Very profuse thanks and gratitude to those who took the time to review.)