Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Lost Phoenix	By : sshp4ever Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 21769 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or its Characters. I make no money (unfortunately) from this.

Chapter List
- 1-Animals
- 2-Waiting
- 3-Dirty
- 4-Alone
- 5-Umbrellas
- 6-Dreaming
- 7-Retribution
- 6
- 7
Chapter Seven: Retribution

                There were Death Eaters in the castle. His godson had let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Even Greyback was there. And Severus was with them, a part of them. For once, this pleased him. Throwing open the doors to the Great Hall, the Potions Master fixed a steely expression of determination onto his face. He was going to kill Albus Dumbledore.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

            Blood. All she could see was blood. It was on her robes, in her hair, and on her hands. It was smeared over the crumbling walls and puddled under piles of bodies. It dripped from the ceilings and pooled in the newly formed cracks on the ancient stone floor. There was even some between her toes.

            Ron was dead. His face was masked by thick black clumps of blood. His chest was caked with it. Every few seconds one of her tears would drip from her chin, splashing silently onto her friend’s lifeless face. Each droplet made ugly brown streaks appear on the stiff boy’s face, exposing his pale freckles and frozen expression.

            She couldn’t look away. Despite the battle raging all about her, she was overcome with shock and an unexpected sorrowful regret. So consumed with grief, she began to wail, voice cracking and throat thick with emotion. But the din of war drowned out her cries of agony. Curses were flying all around her and every once and awhile, telling green sparks would go whizzing right over her head. Shouts and screams encircled her, but instead of bringing her attention back to the fray, they simply drove her farther into misty eyed oblivion.

            Clutching her unresponsive companion to her chest, she began to weep in earnest, further sullying the filthy corpse. Blood would undoubtedly be matted into her bushy hair, but this was of no concern to her. Pulling back to stare into the dull cerulean eyes that had once been filled with so much life, she couldn’t understand how this had come to be.

            The pair had only just dropped the bright pink umbrella portkey after they’d appeared suddenly into one of the many courtyards of Hogwarts, when chaos had erupted. Thinking back, she realised that it was more likely that they had simply materialized in the midst of the madness, but for a brief moment there had been a serene peace. A fleeting moment of calm had greeted them—she and Ron had exchanged grins, simply happy to be on another grand adventure together—before the pandemonium had recommenced.

            It had happened so fast. One moment they were smiling and holding hands, pleased to have had snuck into the castle, and the next there had been blood. Everywhere. It had splattered over her face and effectively blinded her. Acting instinctually, she’d ducked down to avoid future curses and had hastily used the sleeves of her robes to wipe the blood from her eyes. After visibility had returned, she’d whipped around in search of her comrade; they’d needed to get to a more secure location before setting their plan in motion. But as she’d glanced around, her redheaded friend had been nowhere to be found.

            Stumbling to her feet, she’d made to go off in search of him. It had only taken her a few rapid steps before she had been on the ground again, having suddenly tripped. Glancing back, she’d seen Ron lying limply on the stone slabs. At the time it hadn’t occurred to her that he might have been dead. Friends didn’t die. Sure, sometimes they were violently thrown off giant chess pieces, chased by werewolves, or even possessed by evil overlords, but they never died. So after she had crawled over to her immobile companion, she had become confused.

            There had been two deep slashes across Ron’s torso that could have only have been created by a sword. Syrupy black blood had been bubbling from the gapping cavity, but all she had done was stare. Despite her high levels of intelligence, nothing had occurred to her; later she would know why. She’d inherently known her friend was gone. His eyes had given it away; she’d never seen them so lifeless.

            Returning to the present, her head snapped up. She was sure she’d heard someone call her name. There it was again.

            “—ermione! HERMIONE!” The voices could just be heard over the bedlam, but she ignored them. She wouldn’t leave her Ron.

            But she was abruptly snatched up into a pair of muscled arms. Lashing out, she kicked and screamed as she was dragged roughly away by her assailant. She refused to be taken without a fight.

            “Hey, hey, Hermione calm down. You have to calm down!” a familiar voice yelled at her.

            “Yeah, quit kicking us! Don’t worry we brought Ron too,” said the other twin.

            Slowly, Hermione came back to herself. Her arms stopped swinging and her legs ceased their thrashing. Eventually, her breathing returned to erratic gasps instead of hysterical wheezes and she began to recognize what was going on around her. The screams and mêlée of the battle were muffled, the air was clear of stray hexes, and the walls were free of innocent blood.

            She could dimly see two shadowy figures looming over her and she recognized them as the twins. She tried to tilt her head up to see them better, but her vision spun and everything became a swirl of bright colour. She never had a chance to hit the ground though, before one of her rescuers had grabbed her and gently placed her on a desk. Apparently they were in a classroom. Ancient Runes, she concluded.

            She could vaguely hear Fred and George conversing, something about “going into shock” and “edible Dark Marks.” Something was shoved into her hands and she could hear Fred, or George (did it really matter), instructing her to eat whatever it was. Not caring what the mysterious substance was—and who could really know when it came to the twins—she popped it into her mouth and realised it was chocolate. At least the twins knew when to be serious.

            “How do you like our Edible Dark Marks? They’ll be available for purchase within the next month.”

            Maybe not. But she couldn’t keep from giggling at their attempt at humor. Yet as her pulse began to slow, her mind began to hum at its usual hurried pace. It was this mental clarity that prompted her soft chuckles to morph into feverish sobs and Hermione gazed imploringly up at them.

            “R-ron’s d-d—he’s g-gone?” she whimpered pitifully through a barrage of snot and tears.

            “Yeah, we know. But he’s not the only one. Bill and Charlie were killed almost immediately and we haven’t seen Mum and Dad for a while,” George said in a monotone. It was obvious that he was trying to suppress the worry and grief for his family.

            “Now we’re going to get revenge,” Fred added after a lengthy pause, in which all of their minds were forced to consider the possible deaths of Arthur and Molly Weasley. “Care to join us?” It was asked with a forced grin, but the same playful spirit shone through the gloom, promising great escapades and conquests. But the real reason she agreed was the idea of dealing out vengeance to whoever had murdered her best friend.



-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

            From his strategic position behind a large marble statue—of who knew what— at the top of the marble staircase, Severus Snape had a perfect view of the battle raging away before him in the Entrance Hall.

McGonagall, Flitwick, Sinistra, and Kingsley were all battling one crazed Death Eater each. Curses flew overhead, bouncing off walls and reflecting off the broken glass and jewels of the shattered House Hourglasses. The once impressive lobby was now in ruins and the battle was nowhere near complete. It wouldn’t be until Albus Dumbledore was dead.

            The frosty white beard and garish yellow robes were a mere blur as the ancient Headmaster danced fiercely around the hall. His movements were calculated and precise. Not a spell was wasted, each one specifically chosen to distract or disable one of the old warrior’s many opponents. There were five of them in all: Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy and Walden Macnair. But the skilled wizard deflected their attacks with ease and almost seemed to be enjoying himself, as if he were not at the center of a boiling fray. Severus expected him to pause at any moment and ask if anyone wanted a spot of tea or perhaps one of those blasted lemon drops.

            Despite the man’s easy evasions and ingenious assaults, the thought of battling Dumbledore did not faze the rigid Potions Master. He had gained neither his title nor prestige from being only a mediocre dueler. And for all of Dumbledore’s wisdom, there were things he didn’t know; not much mind you, but enough. Severus intended to use these secrets to his full advantage.

            Creeping out from the alcove, Snape darted down the steep marble staircase, nearly tripping several times. Many of the steps were missing and their crumbled remains were scattered over the ground, creating a rough and shifty terrain for the bat-like man to stumble across. Not wanting to waste time and give away his position, Severus aimed his wand and muttered a hurried transformation spell. The Headmaster had no idea his trusted spy had been an Animagus.

            He could feel himself shrinking as the floor came rushing up to greet him. The fragments of glass, stone, and assorted gems now appeared to be hefty boulders considering he was now only four inches tall. Fur began to sprout from his arms, legs, and ears, causing a peculiar prickly sensation as the onyx coloured fuzz spread to cover his tiny new body. Pointy sensitive ebony ears emerged from the crown of his shrunken head as the human lobes shrank back into his skull. He could feel the shifting cartilage of his nose as it morphed into a stubby snout; with a single twitch of his new nose he could identify every wizard in the room. His arms began to stretch and expand, until they both reached the heavily pebbled ground. Wings blossomed from inky potion robes and Severus could feel the impressive strength behind the diminutive muscles. Toes became stumpy jagged talons, while fingers mutated to resemble tiny bear claws. Lastly, he became aware of his canine teeth elongating into two identical razor-sharp prongs. His transformation was complete. He was a bat.

            Severus’s metamorphosis hadn’t taken longer than a few seconds and the battle thundered on all around him. Questionable jinxes and dark curses soared over him and he could feel rumbling vibrations of harried footsteps. He could see none of this though, being blind. The only way he could truly see was through the bats natural eyes: echo location.

Spreading his wings, the Animagus launched itself into the flurry of spells. Echo location made dodging every harmful hex that came whizzing in his direction easier than breathing. His bat’s instincts caused his altered form to automatically swerve out of the path of any unpleasant curses. Another benefit was the built in stealth; no one would ever notice him amidst the mayhem of battle. Now all he had to do was bide his time and wait until the bombastic Headmaster had backed himself into a corner.

            Wheeling around and flapping his miniature wings, Severus made his way to a crest of detailed stone carvings that had remained preserved through the uproar. It was situated near the ceiling, giving him a splendid view of the swirling mass of magical power that marked his target. He didn’t need the bats superior sense of smell, hearing, or sight; he could feel the power swarming around the old fraud and he didn’t intend on letting him get away.

            So, the potions master settled himself upside down and gazed about the chaotic hall. Fenrir Greyback had joined the fray and was currently making his way towards Dumbledore. The grizzly wolf had already downed several of the light’s troops; Severus could smell the blood of the youngest and oldest Weasley on the sadistic old creature. Bill and Ginny Weasley could no longer be alive. By his estimation, there was too much of their blood on the beast. But now the werewolf was facing off with Lupin, his last opponent before he reached the powerful old coot.

            It wasn’t much of a fight. Remus hadn’t been paying any attention; he’d been too focused on Dolohov, who had been tossing out the Imperious curse like it was candy. That’s how Charlie Weasley had perished: an Imperious to the back and then Avada Kedavra to the temple with his own wand. War was ugly.

            Greyback tackled him from behind, apparently too far gone to remember he was a wizard. It only took seconds for Lupin to realise what had happened, but by then it was far too late. His attacker had him pinned to the floor on his back with a filthy claw at his throat. Severus could hear the man’s last gurgles of agony from across the room.

            McGonagall and Flitwick seemed to be holding their own, dueling back to back, together they were keeping three Death Eaters at bay. Sinistra had disappeared and Severus tried hard not to imagine what could have befallen his old colleague. Kingsley had been hit by a stray curse—thanks to Lucius Malfoy—and now lay dead in a pool of growing blood. While Shacklebolt had been an amazing dueler and valuable addition to the light side, the former spy couldn’t muster any remorse for his death. The man had been a bastard.

            The battle had only been raging a quarter of an hour and already bodies lined the walls. Numerous Weasley’s, marked by their garish red hair, had a pile all to themselves. Vibrant scarlet blood clung to them, as though they’d been dipped in a vat of paint, like fondue.

            A number of other Hogwarts students seemed to have snuck in with the Order, because Severus spotted several smaller bodies fallen amid the disarray, most of whom he suspected were ever courageous Gryffindors. He recognized the Creevey brothers and Zacharias Smith. The three seemed to have been mashed into the wall by some large object… ah, yes. There was an abandoned pillar a few yards away; some Death Eater must have levitated the weight and wreaked momentary havoc by swinging the thing around the hall. Apparently, the unfortunate trio of students had been the only ones crushed before the scoundrel wielding the column had been taken down. The three boys had been flattened, their innards exploded from their bodies and now dripped lazily to the floor.

            There were a few Ravenclaws and even more Hufflepuffs, but Severus hadn’t a clue to what their names were. Most were covered with blood, guts, or rubble and the few that were easily visible were too disfigured to recognize. But earlier, he’d watched from behind the statue as Dedalus Diggle was easily struck down by Rodolphus Lestrange. Hestia Jones had been hit by a stray hex—he couldn’t tell who had cast it—and had been slowly strangled to death. Mad-Eye had died at the outset of the fracas, being trampled by the mad rush of bodies; Snape suspected his wooden leg had tripped him up. He hadn’t seen the elder Weasley’s die, but he’d heard their screams and had recently spotted two charred bodies that vaguely resembled the inseparable pair. Many had died.

            But there were just as many out of commission Death Eaters littering the Entrance Hall as there were Order members. Avery was now dust, scattered across the marble staircase thanks to Minerva’s exceptional skill with Transfigurations. The devious old witch had turned him into a horrid old vase that had long ago been trampled and smashed. Severus doubted there would be any pieces left at the end of the day. The Carrow siblings had been dealt with early on by the Potions Master himself. He’d been able to get in a sure fire shot while the two cowards had dawdled in a corner of the hall, obviously reluctant to join the pandemonium.

            Flitwick had downed Thorfinn Rowle, a large blond Death Eater that Severus found especially aggravating because of his tendency to randomly fire off curses at no one in particular—leaving it up to a cruel fate to decide who would die. It had been an accident really. The tiny charms professor had missed his target, Mulciber, and instead his hex had struck a large granite gargoyle which had fallen directly onto the unsuspecting Rowle. Had it not taken place during such a critical battle, Snape would have found the occurrence comical.

            Nott, Rookwood, Rosier, and Travers all been chopped to bits by animated suits of armor—courtesy of Minerva McGonagall. The Scottish Witch must have been a bit over zealous in her instructions to the mindless minions, because they had hacked away at the long dead cadavers until all that was left was bloody bite sized pieces of Voldemort’s sycophants. A squelching noise could be heard whenever anyone tread on the stones at the bottom of the main staircase.

            Snapping back to the present, Severus noticed a commotion by the heavy oak doors leading to the grounds. Fred and George Weasley had propped open the doors and appeared to be assisting Granger—the only member of the Golden Trio that the former professor had seen so far—arrange some sort of launcher.

            He watched with growing interest as the three masterminds, quickly hopped back from the contraption. One of the twins—he suspected George—gave a complicated flick of his wand and suddenly the already tumultuous hall exploded in bright bursts of colour. The entrepreneurs seemed to think now was a suitable time to test their products. And after a moment of observation, Severus couldn’t have agreed more.

            Initially, the spy could only see surges of dazzling light in multiple shades of red, green, and gold, but once his ‘eyes’ had adjusted, he’d began to notice a pattern. The new and improved trio seemed to have unleashed fireworks and not just any fireworks; Snape recognized them from the Twin’s inspiring departure during the Reign of Umbridge. But while this served as a temporary distraction, the bat couldn’t understand why the threesome of students looked so pleased with themselves.

            Glancing back to the ensuing chaos, Snape received his answer. All the Death Eaters appeared to be under attack from the incorporeal firework dragons. Well, all but Greyback, who was taking the momentary lull to harass the Headmaster. The rest of them, however, were clawing at their skin that seemed to be bubbling. The remaining Order members watched in horrified fascination as their opponents writhed in agony, their skin seemed to be melting right off their bones. The denser wizards were attempting to stun—and in some cases kill—the ethereal creatures, while shrewder Death Eaters had apparated away, since the wards had fallen away at the commencement of the battle. The Lestranges and Lucius Malfoy had been the ones to escape. Every person remaining in the hall who wore the Dark Mark was dead within minutes of the Catherine wheel’s attack. Their bodies were strewn haphazardly across the floor, blood running thicker than ever.

The irony did not escape the spy. In the Dark Lord's brutal attempt to purify the wizarding race, he’d spilt pure blood. And now it all mixed on the battle field.

            Now that the present bedlam had ceased, other confrontations could be heard in the distance. Severus suspected smaller wars were being fought in the nearby courtyards. While the other Order members rushed to aid their colleagues, Snape remained behind. It seemed the Headmaster was having a spot of trouble ending the reckless werewolf. Fenrir, while not the brightest wizard, was aggressive and unafraid of death. This made him an impossible opponent, even for the formidable warlock, Albus Dumbledore. Despite the challenge, however, the barmy old man was dominating the confrontation and Greyback knew it. The mangy wolf began a hasty retreat up the marble staircase and farther into the depths of the school. As Dumbledore galloped after the feral beast, Severus saw his chance. Dropping from his perch on the stone, the Animagus swooped after the unsuspecting man.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

            The Twin’s Deadly Dragon Bangers had been amazingly effective. They’d done exactly what Fred and George had claimed they would; with a couple added charms the weapon had targeted only those in the hall who wore the Dark Mark. George had explained to her the process, how the wraithlike creatures would seek out the Marks as a power source. The heat of the energy transaction would essentially boil the victim alive. The gangly freckled pair was truly genius.

            But the battle wasn’t over. She could still hear the furor from the southern courtyard. Shouts and screams reached her ears as she sprinted after her matching companions, the uninjured Order members in her wake. Sprinting across the grounds, Hermione tried to keep her last glimpse of Ron from entering her conscious, not to mention the piles of mutilated bodies from the entrance hall. If she focused hard enough on the present pounding of footsteps and cries of terror echoing from the courtyard, she could keep the grisly visions at bay.

            As they approached the tremendous hubbub of the yard, a gargantuan fiery pillar rose up and towered above the arches marking the enclosure. Flaming beasts roared and devoured everything in their path. There was a blazing griffon, at least the size of a wardrobe that had begun to furiously gobble up the lifeless bodies scattered around the square. A massive pair of flickering lions, both the size of the Whomping Willow, engulfed everything in their paths. Death Eaters and Order members alike fell to the ravaging heat, even Hermione who had stopped at the entrance to the courtyard was forced to retreat because of its overpowering intensity. A hippogriff sizzled past, sending sparks raining down on the castle that seemed to consume everything in its path as though they had an unquenchable hunger for the school. Someone had summoned Fiendfire.

            Only two had made it out alive: Neville Longbottom and Nymphadora Tonks. Hermione could only guess as to how the normally disastrous duo had managed to survive. They came stumbling out as the doorway arch came tumbling down, nearly nicking Neville’s shoulder on its path towards the ground.

            The small group of comrades huddled together on the grounds and watched as the devastating blaze spread. Soon, all of Hogwarts would be victim to the flames.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

            He really wished his Animagus form could have been something larger like an Eagle or a Raven. At this point he would have even settled for a pigeon. Hogwarts had never felt so large before he’d actually had to flap through the drafty corridors.

            So far Albus had chased the mongrel up six flights of stairs, eight cluttered hallways, and through a number of abandoned classrooms. The amount of damage they were wreaking upon the castle was monumental; the Headmaster, himself, must have blasted at least three gaping holes in the stone walls so far.

            The potions guru followed at a respectful distance, beating his tiny wings as softly as possible for the off chance that either hooligan was listening. There was really no opportunity for them to notice, not between their reverberating footfalls and the distant clamor of battle. Dumbledore needed to hurry up and corner the bastard so Severus could begin his vengeance. They were nearing the seventh floor landing when the werewolf put on a—hopefully the last—burst of speed. Somehow the ancient wizard pursuing him was able to keep up, and they both disappeared up the stairs leading to the astronomy tower, leaving their invisible shadow behind.

            Exhausted from the ridiculous race, Severus transformed back into his willowy human body. Doubling over, with hands braced on his knees, the ex-professor tried to catch his breath. Being a bat was exhausting; he much preferred his billowing black cloak to the teensy wings any day.

            Once he’d recovered enough, the restored man drew his wand from the depths of his robes and began a deliberate march up the winding flight of stairs that led to the astronomy tower. He could hear Greyback’s savage snarls as he ascended the turret steps. But as he approached the top, the growls morphed into whimpering and as he stalked through the doorway all sound ceased.

            It didn’t really surprise him. He’d seen gore before; being the Dark Lord's second in command had accustomed him to the worst types of slaughter. Despite this, Severus couldn’t help being a little taken aback by the scene he invaded.

            Globs of black blood painted the ramparts. Pink intestines had been flung every which way and even dangled from the balustrades. In the middle of it all was the mangles corpse of the long feared Fenrir Greyback. If Severus was right, then the monster had been enlarged before the Headmaster had hit him with an Expulso. Albus had been creative.

            Said man, was standing over the body, gazing down at the blood spattered pelt, in what the Potions Master could only describe as gratified revelry. It was more than a little disturbing. Without acknowledging the intruder, Dumbledore strode over to the railings. He gazed out into the distance as if he was observing his kingdom for the first time, with amazement and satisfaction.

            Picking his way carefully through the carnage, the spy joined the Headmaster and reclined against the rails and contemplated the panorama before him. The castle was an inferno. He could now hear the blaze roaring ferociously, claiming everything in its path. Flames danced, leaping freely from level to level, consuming Hogwarts bit by bit. But even more astounding was its reflection in the Black Lake; he could see the fire cavorting just as madly in the smooth glassy surface of the water.

            “You can’t stop it?” Severus broke the delicate silence.

            “No.”

            “Expelliarmus.” It was whispered so quietly, that the dull roar of the inferno nearly masked it.

            “So you have come to kill me. I wondered if you had been murdered when I didn’t see you during the battle,” said the whimsical Headmaster. He spoke as if remarking on the weather, typical for the old man. Snape had always been intrigued by Albus’ ability to remain calm in stressful situations.

            “Where is the boy?” It wasn’t necessary to specify who. There was only one person Severus was interested in finding and Dumbledore knew it.

            “I wish I knew.”

            Whirling to face the batty old man, Severus snarled, “What do you mean you don’t know? You’re supposed to be watching him!”

            “My dear boy, I am not responsible for him over the summer. He is with his Aunt.”

            “I was under the impression you were the only one who knew of his location,” he grit out through his teeth. “You were made secret keeper, of course you know where he is!”

            “Severus, all that means is that I know his relatives’ address, nothing else.”

            “Well,” snarled the furious Potions Master. “Where is the boy if he isn’t with his family?”

            “I don’t know,” sighed the Headmaster. The man looked even older in that moment than his respectable one hundred and fifty years.

            Severus was speechless for a few moments. Harry Potter was missing. He couldn’t believe it. If this got out the wizarding world would spiral into chaos. The Dark Lord would rise to power easily. But more importantly was the fact that Lily’s son had disappeared. He had to find him. For Lily.

            “I thought there were wards, shouldn’t they have alerted you?” It was his last hope. Surely the pathetic old man knew something.

            “Unfortunately the wards were designed only to alert me of his death or to the presence of Death Eaters on the premises,” said the older wizard tiredly.

            “Then how do you even know that Potter’s missing!” the irate man raged.

            “Oh… his aunt sent me a letter this morning informing me that the boy had run away. She told me she was no longer accountable for the ‘ungrateful brat.’ She was quite rude Severus, quite rude indeed,” the aged warlock rambled.

            Finally losing his temper, Snape lunged toward the infuriating wizard and grabbed him by the collar of his absurd lemon stained robes. Shaking him roughly and dropping all semblance of control, he yelled, “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS! DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU’VE DONE? YOU’VE LOST THE BOY-WHO-FUCKING-LIVED!” Spittle flew and his eyes flashed with fury. He couldn’t wait until he got to kill the aggravating bastard.

            “Please, Severus,” the pitiful old man whined. “Stop shaking me. I don’t understand why you’re so upset. You never even liked Harry. Now that you know that the prophecy is false, we don’t even need him anymore. He was only ever a pawn. You should be relieved.” The headmaster flinched from Severus’ grasp, backing into the balustrade in his attempt to flee.

            He couldn’t believe his ears. This man, that everyone had trusted, was nothing more than a contemptible ogre. Raising both wands—both his and the one he’d capture from the piteous imp before him—Severus leveled them at Dumbledore’s heart.

            “I never hated him more than I loathe you right now.”

            “Severus…”

            “No! How dare you use Lily’s son and expect to live. I’m going to kill you!”

            “Severus… please…” the doomed wizard pleaded, but all in vain.

            “Avada Kedavra.”

            For a moment time froze. The brilliant green light hovered at the tip of the united wands. Flaming waves of fire seemed to halt and the roar lulled to a mere whisper. Albus’ pleading turned silent. All Severus could hear was his own rhythmic breathing. But it only lasted for the twinkling of a second.

            The moment ended and suddenly the vivid emerald sparks of the killing curse smashed into Albus Dumbledore’s chest, propelling him backwards off the tower, where he hovered lifelessly for a split second before falling quickly out of sight.

            Severus was frozen for a moment, in which he considered what he’d just done. But then he heard the thump of a dead body hitting the ground and the shrill cries of shocked Order members over the steady rumble of the inferno. Taking a step forward, he gripped the rail of the Astronomy tower and peered down.

            At the foot of the battlements lay the corpse of his mentor. The man was spread-eagle and Severus was sure—although he was too far away to tell—that his eyes were open, staring dully up at the heavens.

            Surrounding the body were the tiny figures of his former acquaintances. He held no allusions of what they would think of him. His loyalties had already been questioned and now he’d just murdered their leader—they would assume in cold blood. Even as he thought this, Snape saw heads swivel and stare up at him. He could imagine their expressions of outrage and disgust.

            Sensing the end of an era, the assumed traitor tossed the dead man’s wand over the ramparts. After watching it land with its owner, Severus turned his wand on himself and adopted the form of his bat. Without another glance at the burning castle, he launched himself into the sky.

The Animagus disappeared into the ambiguousness of twilight.
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Lost Phoenix