Entry tags:

event: reviving severus *sighs* 2012, fic, member: inamac, pairing: none, rating: pg-13

Hallowed Ground by inamac
Title: Hallowed Ground
Author: inamac
Rating: PG12 (as canon)
Pairing(s): None
Word Count: 1000
Warnings: None
Summary/Snippet:Voldemort confronts Snape in the Shrieking Shack. The outcome is not what he expects.
A/N: Thanks to Lil for a fast beta. No thanks to my dog, who has been barking incessantly while I have been trying to finish this. Any mistakes are his fault. This is a work of fiction. The characters and their worlds belong to their original writers and no copyright infringement or offense is intended. No money was made from this story.

Hallowed Ground

I gaze across at the remnants of the battle-worn fighters in the Great Hall and take a deep breath, controlling my emotions as I have done since was I old enough to recognise how easily my anger could release uncontrollable magic. Nagini butts her warm, smooth head into the palm of my hand, sensing my discomfort and demanding a caress which I give automatically, as I have a thousand times before.

I cared for the serpent since the Dark Lord was banished on that dreadful night at the Potters. I have fed her with my own hands, and won her loyalty over eleven long years of waiting for the madman's return. Did the fool really think, when he gave the snake the order to kill, that Nagini would forget the only wizard that had ever treated her kindly?

As I stroke her head I cast my mind back over the hours to that moment when, summoned by Lucius, I confronted my undying Master in the Shrieking Shack and heard the hiss of Parseltongue.

"Nagini – kill."

I was aware that mine were not the only eyes that followed the glide of the snake down from her cage and across the creaking floor. I hoped that the impulsive Potter and his companions would not intervene, but had no time for the necessary stunning spell. This place had so nearly seen my death twice before. Did Voldemort really think that this third time he would be lucky? I watched impassively as the serpent approached, reared up to flick her tongue at my throat, tasting my scent, recognising me as friend, not prey, before she turned on the Dark Lord.

I cannot help but smile as I recall the look on his face at her betrayal. It took only an instant before she was on him, moving fast, as was her nature, sending her coils around his emaciated body to squeeze the life from him. Her long head reared back, her mouth dropped open, releasing her fangs to strike and take back the blood that had created her a horcrux and to destroy his last hold on the half-life he had been living.

Voldemort fell, his final scream ripped from his throat by the snake's fangs, and the Elder wand rolled across the floor to fetch up against my boot.

I bent to pick it up as Nagini, task complete, returned to my side.

It was over. Not as Dumbledore had anticipated (had the old man really believed that I would be willing to sacrifice Lily's son?), but as I had planned. I felt the air shiver, as if a world of possibilities had ended with Voldemort's life.

I turned, aimed the wand at the crate that blocked the entrance to the hidden tunnel, blasting it away.

There was a yelp of surprise as three people tumbled into the room.

Potter, in the lead, raised his own wand, but not quickly enough to avoid being disarmed as easily as I had disarmed Lockhart in their duel years ago. I tucked the hawthorn wand into my sleeve and looked down at its erstwhile wielder as sternly as I had ever done in my classroom.

"Potter, you have something which does not belong to you. It is time to give it back."

For once the boy did not answer me back. His green eyes were fixed on the corpse of the twice-dead wizard. It was, as usual, Granger who answered the question I had not asked of her.

"Voldemort's soul!" she exclaimed. "Harry, he means that you're a horcrux."

Weasley's eyes widened. "But... you can't kill Harry!"

I suppressed a weary sigh. Both of my masters had been far too fond of death as a solution to their troubles. So much so that both had failed to recognise the alternative when they had it in their hands. I gestured again with the Elder Wand, and the pouch that hung around Harry's neck tore free and flew to my hand. I opened it, tipped out the snitch that Dumbledore had bequeathed the boy, and read the cryptic inscription. Really the old man had been so needlessly theatrical. I open at the close indeed.

I tossed it to Harry who caught it easily. "I think we have reached the close," I observed. "Kiss it, Potter. It will open at the touch of your lips."

There was a mutter from Hermione, the only audible words were 'flesh memory'. Really I wonder whether Miss Granger will ever learn to cloak her cleverness? Well, perhaps the new world we are making will make it unnecessary.

The boy did as I had bidden, and the snitch opened to reveal a cracked and blackened jewel. The resurrection stone. For the first time since they had been created all three of the Deathly Hallows were in one place. Voldemort, were he alive, would have been spitting tacks.

I plucked it from his fingers and, before any of them could prevent me, pressed it to the scar on his forehead. He gave a shout – more in anticipation than pain – as I spoke the simplest and most powerful of charms.

"Finite Incantatum!"

The stone glowed. Light filled the room, and when it died the stone was as cold and black as it had been before Voldemort had perverted its nature, and Potter's flesh was unmarked.

"Professor Snape? What have you done?"

I was right, Miss Granger would not be silenced. But she was, perhaps, owed an explanation.

"On the night Li... his parents died, the Dark Lord left a piece of his soul within Potter. Yes, he was a Horcrux. But the nature of the Resurrection Stone is to preserve the whole life of a subject. For it to revive Voldemort it needs the last part of his soul."

I petrified Weasley before he could attack me. "No," I said. "It ends here. Potter, give me your cloak."

Potter looked towards Granger before responding. She gave the slightest of nods – clever girl – and he handed the cloak to me. I tossed it, with the Wand and the Stone, onto the still-warm corpse of the Dark Lord.

"And now," I said, releasing Weasley, "Let us get out of here."

Nagini slithered before us, down the rickety stairs and out into the cold pre-dawn air. When we were a safe distance from the building I turned and spoke a word.

Fiendfyre blossomed from the end of my wand, blasted into the structure of the Shack, and set it aflame. Something in the heart of the structure screamed, high and sharp and long. The column of fire shot into the sky and, for a moment, the building glowed at its heart, before shivering apart in a shower of dust and sparks, collapsing in on itself to leave nothing but a scarred, blackened glassy stain on the earth.

The Deathly Hallows, and the Dark Lord, were no more.

oOo

And that is how I come to be here, carrying the news of the end of the war to those who have survived the last battle.

The last few hours cost me dearly, but I am relieved that there are more still standing on both sides than would have been the case had I not succeeded.

The worst of the Death Eaters are dead. Bellatrix, Fenrir, the Carrows, would have had no place in this new world. Among the Hogwarts defenders it seems that all the teachers still live. Minerva, dishevelled and wounded, still stands straight and proud among them. Students and parents have been less well served, too many are marked with tears and blood streaking the dust of the battle. As for the Malfoys... I will have to think about their future.

But later. There is still work to be done.

The Beginning