1,043This chapter was edited by Gladiusx.
Draco
"MY EYES! What have you done, you–"
Draco Malfoy slammed the compartment's door shut before walking away from his so-called friends and shoved his wand back into its holster. He should have done that hours ago when Bulstrode, who proved smarter and kinder than he ever realised, excused herself and never returned.
Yet, he wanted to believe, to prove that his friends were still the same.
All he got was disappointment.
"How did you not know about your father's proclivities? To think Father tried so hard to secure a betrothal between us."
"Is it true the Malfoys have secret rooms where they keep their pets? And I don't mean the normal kind."
"Careful girls! The apple does not fall far from the tree. Who knows what deviancy Malfoy Senior passed down to Draco here."
"I heard it wasn't just muggles your father liked, if you know what I mean."
"Your mother must be very meek to allow her husband such leeway from the marriage bed. Does he also pass her around like a–"
Crabbe and Goyle had been his constant shadows for as long as he could remember. Always loyal, rarely stepping out of line, and never humiliating him. Yet they laughed loud and cruelly at Nott's brainless comments, regardless of how fake their laughter was or how Nott couldn't even make a joke to save his life. The normally reserved and antisocial boy must have gotten instructions from his father and cousins about taking over Slytherin. Draco scoffed, the boy, while smart and cunning, was ultimately pathetic, and Draco did not worry about him taking over an exploding snap game let alone the house of the cunning.
The less said about Pansy, the better; the little harlot, as his mother called her, had stuck to Nott like a bad rash. The joke was on her, though, as the boy was far more concerned with trying to make Daphne laugh.
Not like she and her half-sister gave them any time of day. They barely stayed for half the ride before they left without a word. Most likely going to Potter's side. Draco did not want to think about Harry Potter, preferring to curse his fellow Slytherins in his mind, which brought him to the snivelling coward who finally broke his patience.
Blaise Zabini was a foreigner who coasted on his mother's reputation, which was even worse than Lucius Malfoy's, as well as her family's influence in Italy, rather than trying to work to achieve anything worthwhile. Bad grades, lazy, cowardly, Zabini was one of those wizards that Draco wondered how the hell he ended up in Slytherin.
Normally, Zabini would be the butt-end of jokes or pranks, yet it seemed he could barely believe his fortune when all eyes were on Draco instead and easily joined the winning side. As if to compensate, Blaise joined Nott in the worst of the insults, yet Draco showed him his place. He wouldn't go blind; the Conjunctivitis Curse could be easily treated if caught in time, and as Draco stormed down the length of the train to its rear, he caught Goyle hurrying the other way, most likely to call Professor Snape.
Draco did not care about the consequences. No one insulted his mother and got away with it!
Younger students made way for him as he walked past, almost like he was a leper. Older students would have made trouble for him if not for the prefects; another foreigner, a seventh-year Ravenclaw, merely coughed when Roger Davies blocked his path with two other students, and they all grumbled as they let him through. Draco did not bother to thank the prefect; he was only doing his job.
Instead, he allowed himself to lament how far he had fallen.
The combination of his father's scandalous death and his ludicrous will had placed House Malfoy near the brink of bankruptcy - according to their lawyer, Thicknesse, it would take a lot of time and gold to get the will amended or to force an emancipation for Draco that would negate the will.
Time, they have; gold, on the other hand…
Their manor was not built over a magically rich site owing to its history as some muggle lord's fief a thousand years ago - at least, there used to be a minor leyline which was the main reason his ancestor, Armand Malfoy, claimed these lands in the first place. All their wards needed constant maintenance and recharging, especially considering how old they were. While their age gave them an advantage, it also required regularly higher and richer magical means of recharging as their demands for power increased.
Sadly, after centuries passed, the leyline shifted elsewhere and the manor lost the easy source of magic, forcing generations of Malfoys to spend numerous resources to keep the wards active.
Magic stones, crystals, sacrificial rituals involving magical creatures, and many others required an obscene amount of gold lest they risk the wards failing or worse - going wild and out of control. His father had even entertained the idea of stealing power from the nearby muggle towns through their new ekletrisity or whatever it was.
"The muggles had developed a way to contain lightning in vessels of copper or bronze," His mother had explained when he had asked after another long day of training followed by cleaning and taking care of the mansion. "We don't really have any idea how, but your father had overheard a ministry employee mentioning it."
Lucius Malfoy had been interested in it but quickly scrapped the idea entirely when he approached that ministry employee and discovered it to be Arthur Weasley of all people. Now, they are paying for yet another of his father's mistakes as they slowly but surely sold all of their belongings, stripping the manor of anything of value. Draco had wanted to sell his Nimbus 2001 but his mother vehemently refused.
"You will need that to keep your position in the Quidditch team. Not even they would dare kick you out after Lucius bought similar brooms to all of them. The better you do in Quidditch, the more avenues will open for you."
Quidditch was the furthest thing from his mind, yet he would not let down his mother. Especially as he noticed her wardrobe was shrinking and she dressed in less jewellery.
Draco finally reached the end of the train, walking through the vast final compartment devoid of students as it was reserved for goods and supplies being delivered to Hogsmeade and Hogwarts. While portkeys work well for humans, they tend to damage, sometimes outright destroy, most inanimate objects; some of the more expensive kind can be used but it was just easier to use the Hogwarts Express to supply the castle and its town.
At least that was what Snape told him.
He opened the door to stand outside and enjoy the fresh air. A small balcony was provided, barely enough for three or four people to stand side by side, yet it was enough for Draco. He leaned on the metal rails and watched as the sun slowly set over the mountains and the train sped over the tracks.
"There you are." The door opened behind him, and Draco was not surprised to see that it was his godfather, carefully leaning in on the rail beside him, looking at the trailing tracks behind them. "I heard you got into a scuffle with your friends."
"They are no friends of mine." Draco bit out, trying to act nonchalant but sounding angrier than he would have liked. "Did Goyle run to you for help?"
"Mr Goyle did indeed come to me claiming that you maliciously attacked one of your dorm mates unprovoked." Severus Snape's voice had an amusing tilt as he glanced at him, "A variation of the Conjunctivitis Curse, more dangerous than simply giving you a pink eye, but rather continuously burns the target's eyes until they are blind. I was not aware you could cast such magic."
"You are not the only teacher I have."
"Clearly. Miss Snyde has been very busy over the summer, the girl has become very fond of you."
Draco turned his head away as he felt his cheeks heat up, "She's alright."
Snape chuckled, and Draco had to do his best to ignore the shiver crawling up his spine. He was still unused to his godfather's more serene, friendly, and witty demeanour. He had confessed to his mother that he feared he was an impostor, yet Narcissa Malfoy had assured him that it was one hundred percent Severus Snape; their manor's wards recognised him, and she had subtly asked him many questions that only Severus Snape would know.
Dark questions of darker times for when he was in the service of the Dark Lord.
Draco shook his head. His godfather had left that life behind, and while he still suspected Polyjuice, his mother refused to test him, for there was no way they could ever trick a Potions Master like Snape into drinking any potion. It would be the height of folly to antagonize their only remaining ally in the wizarding world when he had shown them nothing but kindness and loyalty.
"Just don't grow too fond of her, as I'm sure she only sees you as a little brother." Snape smirked, "At least not yet."
Draco spluttered, "W-What the hell? She's seven years older than me!"
"In seven years, such an age gap would mean nothing when you live for a century or two."
"W-Whatever," Draco ignored the flush in his face as he tried to purge the images of the older girl hugging him or pinching his cheeks from his mind. "Did you fix Blaise's eyes?"
Snape's smirk fell as his face grew cold. "He insulted your mother's honour. I am sure another hour of pained blindness would teach him the importance of basic manners."
"… Thanks. How did you even know what he said?" Draco instinctively cleared his mind as he remembered his mother's Occlumency lessons. "You're not using Legilimancy, are you?"
"On snot-nosed brats? Oh, the horror!" Snape snorted, "No, I do not need such magicks to extract the truth from panicking children. Now, enough about this matter; your mother and I had warned you against sticking to your former friends. Why have you not tried to expand your circle? I saw Potter approach you before the train moved."
The unasked question hung over the air, and Draco turned away as he bit the insides of his cheeks. "I don't need pittance from Potter or anyone. I can make my own friends."
"Clearly." His godfather's voice couldn't be any more sardonic, "Potter is an excellent friend to have, not least due to how close he is to the Greengrasses. I do not need to spell out for you how prudent it is for you to seek better friends or possibly a powerful betrothal."
Draco felt tired from such a bothersome topic; his experience with Pansy had caused him to be wary of girls his age. "Why are you so insistent I befriend Harry Potter, anyway? You never hid how much you hated the bloke, or how you constantly compared him to his father while insulting both."
For a moment, Severus Snape did not answer, and Draco turned to find him staring blankly at the distant mountains. "Why indeed… I don't know. Why would I hate a thirteen-year-old child? His father… James Potter, right? I honestly could not tell you if I feel anything about him."
Draco raised an eyebrow, "Nothing at all? Mother told me you were hated rivals during school. He and Sirius Black–"
Snape's confused face turned into a scowl, "Black! Curse that wretched cretin. I wish he would appear before me now, only so I can personally banish him back to Azkaban, where he belongs." His godfather seethed as he mumbled a few more curses before taking a deep breath to centre himself. "But James Potter? Why would I hate a man I barely knew?"
Something was very wrong with his godfather. Everyone knew of the hatred between James Potter and Severus Snape. Draco had even once heard his father mention that Snape had been so obsessed with that 'Red haired mudblood and her blood traitor husband' that he joined the Dark Lord purely out of spite for them both.
"What about Potter's mother? I heard you got into your fair share of conflicts with that mu-muggleborn witch." Draco barely managed to stop himself from saying that slur, Snape was still a teacher, and he never approved of that term. "Harry Potter's mother, I mean." He added as his godfather looked more confused.
For a moment, something different passed through Snape's face, almost wistful, but it faded away to nothing. "No… I don't think I care much for… what was her name again?"
"Lily Evans?"
A shadow seemed to pass through his godfather's eyes before he shook his head vehemently. "Yes, her. Why should I care about her? Or James Potter, for that matter? Regardless, enough about my personal life, Draco. We are nearly at Hogsmeade. You should go ahead and change–"
Suddenly, an unnatural cold descended upon them, followed by the train lurching to a stop. The screech of steel clutching on steel as the emergency brakes activated caused him to grimace and lose his balance. His godfather held him steadily as the train finally stopped, and Draco looked around, feeling confused. The sun seemed to be hurrying to set, but the last vestiges of sunlight peeked from the west, turning the cloudy skies an eerie crimson. They were stopped over the bridge leading to Hogsmeade. A sheer drop of nearly two hundred feet to the craggy rocks below had Draco flinching away from the rails.
"Get inside the train, now!"
Before he could nod and hurry inside, a deep, rattling breath came from behind him as something large and cold cast a shadow over the little balcony they were in. Draco hesitantly turned around and his eyes widened in horror as he recognised the dark cloaked figure that stretched a rotten arm to him. He did not even get to withdraw his wand before Snape grabbed his shoulder and pulled him behind him. His godfather's wand was instantly in his hand as it blasted out a gout of flame that caused the dementor to flinch and slightly back off yet did no visible harm to it.
"Sirius Black is not here. Begone!"
The creature hesitated for a moment before ignoring the wand as it floated closer to them, and Draco felt fear and terror getting a hold of him. Even Snape was not unscathed, as he could feel his hand shaking on his shoulder, but Draco trusted in his godfather. He was one of the few who could cast the patronus charm, the only known spell to banish the wardens of Azkaban.
Draco was safer than anywhere else on the train, for there was no one else who could cast the Patronus Charm.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A cloud formed out of Snape's wand, causing the dementor to back away as it let out a rattling hiss. Yet Draco suddenly felt his heart drop to his stomach as his godfather's spell faltered and failed to create a corporeal form, merely solidifying into a shield.
"S-Severus, why is the spell not working?!"
His godfather's face was strained as the dementor seemed to sense the weakness and struck the flimsy shield with its gaunt arms, causing it to shatter. Snape groaned as he fumbled back into him. "I don't know! I-I always used that memory for the spell. Or that memory. Or that one! But-But I can't find them!"
Draco was gobsmacked; this was the first time in his life that he had ever seen his godfather panicking. He quickly turned to the door and tried to open it, only for it to not budge. Cursing loudly, he withdrew his wand and blasted the door open, but before he could rush inside, another rotted and gaunt arm appeared and grabbed him by the neck. Another dementor had managed to sneak inside the train, and since the last train car was reserved for goods and supplies, it was naturally attracted by the commotion they were making.
"H-Help!" Draco choked out as the clammy hand holding his neck tightened, and the dementor lifted its hood with its other hand, showing a face of nightmares.
There was no face. Just one singular gaping hole where the mouth and nose were supposed to be. A fate worse than death awaited him if he allowed that abomination to get close to his face! Draco struggled mightily, wondering why the bloody hell his godfather was not doing anything, only for a gasping rattling sound and a thud behind him to cause him to panic.
He did not want to imagine what just happened.
The dementor was closing into his face, and Draco felt absolute terror coursing through his veins. Suddenly, an explosion rocked the train, followed by an earth-shattering wail that caused the dementor to freeze. Draco could almost feel the heat coming from the front, dispelling the cold fear consuming him.
He could feel his arm again, and only one thing consumed Draco's mind at that moment. Fight for his life!
He brought his wand and jabbed it into the gaping hole in the monster's face before roaring incoherently. No spell came to mind, and he hadn't the slightest clue how the Patronus charm worked. His wand grew extremely hot as it sucked all the magic from him before vibrating as it sank deeper into the hole. The dementor screeched in rage, and Draco hoped it was in pain, as with a final thought, he cast the most devastating curse he could think of.
"BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"
His wand and his hand, shattered into a thousand pieces, along with half the compartment. Draco screamed in pain as the splinters struck him in the face. Only a last-second twitch as the dementor involuntarily slacked its grip on his neck allowed him to avoid being blinded; just his left eye turned into mush instead of both eyes. Even through the extreme pain, Draco struggled mightily and managed to kick the monster away from him, only to trip on something.
His right arm was utterly useless, and his left eye was ruined, yet Draco managed to fight through the pain as he stared down in horror at the sight of Severus Snape staring blankly at the skies. The other dementor gave out a rattling cough as it held its hands over its mouth, and Draco realised what happened. It was almost as if it were savouring the taste of his godfather's soul. He had no idea if a dementor could consume two souls consecutively, and he had no wish to find out.
Draco was feeling so much fear and terror that his body had gone beyond freezing up and was completely in fight or flight mode. His godfather was worse than dead. His arm and wand were gone. He had no way of fighting back, and he doubted anyone else in the entire train could cast the patronus. A rattling growl sounded out, and the second Dementor had recovered from whatever Draco's wand had done to it - its cloak was burnt away, and several deep scars marred its skin and leaked light, yet even as he watched, the monster seemed to be healing.
It turned to the first dementor, which turned its empty, decayed eye sockets to Draco, and the second dementor stepped over Snape's fallen form as it approached him.
Draco felt tears flowing from his good eye; he knew what was about to happen, yet he did not accept it. He would not accept that! He would not go down like this! Never! He would rather die than allow his soul to be consumed into eternal damnation.
Draco's mangled right hand instinctively tried to hold on to the railing, but his grip was incredibly weak. As the dementor raised its hands, Draco did not think; he simply stepped backwards and fell over the railings.
The last thing he saw was a bright light above him near the front of the train before he closed his eyes and fell to the rocky depths below and prayed for his mother's forgiveness. She would be lonely without him.
A*L*S*M
Earlier with Harry
"Expecto Patronum!"
Ghost sprang from his wand, the massive direwolf taking up nearly half the lounge, yet his ethereal body left no trace on the physical world as he phased through the table, causing the two cats to jump in fright. One of the girls squeaked in shock, but they all visibly relaxed at the Patronus' calming presence.
"Wow, you can cast a–"
"There's no time for that, follow me." Harry interrupted Daphne as he led the girls to the common room, grabbing any student he found and having them follow. The Direwolf's presence leading the way quickly calmed many of the students' worries, yet the sound of banging coming from the engine car ahead told him that something was very wrong. "Everyone, stay with the Patronus. I need to check on the driver."
"Harry, wait! What if there are more out there? You can't cast the Patronus twice."
He turned to Tracey's worried face; many others in the common room also looked frightened, like little children, even Fred and George looked uncharacteristically apprehensive.
But they were children, he realised, and they needed a proper adult. Harry turned to find Percy Weasley and the rest of the prefects arriving from the next compartment. "Don't worry about me. Stick close, and keep clear from the windows."
Before anyone else could stop him, Harry rushed back through the hallways leading to the lounges and opened the door leading to the first car of the train, the engine compartment. Once outside, the unnatural chill that reminded him so much of other horrid creatures from a different world struck him like a sack of bricks. The sound of glass shattering and a man's scream of terror had Harry moving before he could think, his right hand moving to the ruby-encrusted bracelet on his left wrist.
"Come, Gryffindor!"
The familiar weight of the hilt belonging to the silvery sword that suddenly appeared in his grip gave him comfort, and Harry rushed forward. Just as one of the dementors grabbed the driver's neck and moved him closer to its face. There were no warning shouts or any calls to stop, for Harry had nothing to say to such monsters as he stabbed his sword deep into the creature's back, piercing through its chest and barely missing the driver's face.
A terrible scream cut through the night.
Harry was forced to withdraw his sword as the other dementor swiped its clawed hand at him, and he jumped backwards before inspecting his handiwork with a frown. The dementor he stabbed was still screaming, but contrary to what he hoped, it did not disintegrate or die or even collapse, yet there was still a clear stab wound that leaked white light. He clicked his tongue in disappointment; basilisk venom was the deadliest in the world, yet a soulless abomination like the dementors still seemed resistant to it.
At least he managed to grab their attention. "Quickly, get inside the train!" Harry's roar shook the driver awake. The two dementors lunged at him as he used his metamorphing powers to shift his legs into a far more muscular form and jumped up the train's roof before dashing down its length.
His wand in his left hand, Harry was tempted to try to cast the patronus again, but that would dispel Ghost, and if there was another dementor, it would put the rest of the students in danger. Instead, he turned to the two wraiths and resorted to the one thing that usually helped against creatures of the cold.
"Incendio!"
The wave of flames that erupted from his wand was far stronger than normal, and as they buffeted the dementors, they shrieked in agony; the unholy sound made him cringe in pain as his ears began to ring. It did not help that their aura of fear would not let up, and Harry found himself constantly fighting his fight and flight instincts, focusing completely on fight!
He dashed forwards and stabbed at one of the dementors, yet once more, it only seemed to cause it excruciating pain. Still, Harry noticed that as long as he kept it impaled with the sword, the dementor ceased to move, yet that only opened him up for the other dementor to strike at him. Not wanting to lose the initiative, he morphed his arms into the strongest forms he could muster, sheathed his wand into its holster, before grabbing the dementor's slick and clammy arm, which was far more powerful than he expected, yet not enough to stop him. Then, Harry heaved as he pulled it into its brother, withdrew Gryffindor, then swiftly stabbed once more through both of their bony bodies, skewering them into the roof of the train.
The constant screeching from the wraiths had made him deaf and blind to all other threats, so when he withdrew his wand again to douse them in more flames, Harry was blindsided as another dementor crashed into his side and sent him careening nearly towards the edge. He managed to stop himself just before he fell, but he lost his wand and stared as it fell into the canyon below.
So much for dual wielding sword and wand.
Harry did not lament its loss for long, for Hedwig suddenly nudged his mind as she finally arrived from the castle and dove into the canyon after his wand. Smiling at his smart owl, Harry swiftly got to his feet just as the third dementor released its kin before throwing away the sword down the canyon with a pained scream, as if holding the sword had burned its hands.
Now, he was wandless and disarmed, yet Harry did not feel fear. Only rage.
How dare such monstrosities haunt him even in another world? Harry had had his fill of Others and all other creatures of the night and cold. As the dementors floated towards him, their burned skin healed yet the stab wounds continued to leak light. He could feel Ghost in his mind, asking if he should come to his aid, but Harry shook his head inwardly. He touched the ruby in his bracelet and felt Gryffindor respond to him, waiting to be summoned back through that wonderful charm that Estelle Greengrass discovered.
Harry had a plan, and as his belly felt heavy with molten lava, he recalled a promise from a certain fiery Fae.
"Just remember me whenever you feel like spewing flames at your enemies, and I might just give you a hand."
'Hope you can reach me here, Cinder!' Just as the dementors loomed over him, Harry took a deep breath, ignoring the foul stench coming from the monsters, and summoned Gryffindor into his hands before exhaling a veritable storm of scorching hot fire at the wraiths just as a light giggle sounded in his mind.
So hot and magical and wild were the flames that his sword grew white-hot in his hands as one of the edges was imbued with flames while the roof of the train melted. None of that mattered compared to the terrible and inhumane wail that screeched out of the dementors and reverberated through the night. Glasses and windows all around them shattered, people screamed, and Harry wagered that even those in Hogsmeade must have heard it.
Finally, after feeling utterly drained as if a hollow pit had formed in his stomach, Harry cut off the flames and breathed heavily as exhaustion similar to the one he felt after a session in Chiara's green bath set upon him. Magical exhaustion. The smell of burned wood and melted metal permeated the air, yet strangely, there was no smell of burned flesh.
The sounds of screams became muffled, and Harry felt a dull ache in his ears. He could feel a warm liquid leaking into his neck, and wiping it with his hand showed blood. His clothes were half-burned off, and his stomach was cramping severely as if telling him that he could not breathe out such magical flames constantly. They were different from the normal flames he could breathe, Cinder had lent him her powers with this, yet his body was not Fae and could not withstand their unique brand of magic.
Yet, Harry could not afford to rest as he wiped away the smoke from the fire with a wave of his hand and stared at the charred remains of the dementors.
Two of them were completely gone; nothing remained from them at all, and the only way Harry was sure they were destroyed was the dozens of familiar balls of light that flew away from where they were floating. He had seen a similar ball of light when Cinder showed him Lucius Malfoy's soul, and Harry realised these were all the captive souls that both dementors had consumed over their amortal existence.
He recalled what that entity that had appeared during his ritual told him about souls.
"A soul is eternal, immortal, and, at its core, a pure entity…Whether it's years, centuries, or millennia from now, all that came from the Creator shall return to him."
"Looks like not even such abominations could destroy a soul," Harry muttered before coughing as his throat felt like it was on fire; he turned his gaze at the third dementor that had barely managed to hide behind its two kin and dodged the worst of the flames.
Its lower half was completely gone, embers stuck to its torso, and it had lost its ability to fly. Harry walked to the monster and realised it had also lost its ratty and dark cloak. Gone was the aura of fear, and in its place was a pathetic and snivelling form. It was completely rotten skin and bones with a hideous face that had a single gaping hole. With its lower half gone, it seemed to be leaking light, as if all the souls consumed were doing their damnedest to escape.
Harry did not know whether those souls deserved to be punished or not, yet it did not matter. They would return to the natural cycle, and some higher entity would deal with them, but all Harry cared about was destroying that which attempted to give him a fate worse than death.
He stabbed Gryffindor at the pathetic creature that tried to crawl away from him, the basilisk tip paralysing it, yet it did not seem to even have the energy to scream. Harry grunted, feeling a slight ache in his stomach as he willed the blade to ignite, causing one of the edges to glow like molten steel before he sliced down, and he carved the creature's torso open, causing it to emit a shuddering gasp. The gasp quickly turned into another echoing wail, yet Harry was ready as he withdrew the sword and lopped off its head, silencing it mid-scream.
More souls exploded out of its corpse, a few of them seemingly floating in front of him for a few heartbeats, and Harry caught a faint feeling of gratitude in the wind before they flew away and disappeared into the sky.
Harry did not have the chance to rest before the sound of an explosion came from the far end of the train, followed by more screams from the students. Without hesitation, he dashed as fast as his tired body could allow, mentally calling on Ghost to join him as he could no longer feel the unnatural chill from earlier.
For better or worse, there were no more dementors on the front of the train, yet Harry could feel a chill in the breeze from the back. Ghost phased through the roof as he jumped to the next compartment, and Harry instantly felt far better and more confident as his tired jog turned into a dash. In less than a minute, Harry had reached two-thirds of the way to the end only to find two dark figures flying his away but froze at the sight of him and the patronus.
A heartbeat later, they both turned to flee.
"Ghost. Bring them down!"
There was no way Harry would allow the vile creatures to escape, especially as he had no idea if they had attacked any of the students. He wagered the reason they were coming this way might have to do with the death of their compatriots, yet it did not matter. Ghost howled silently before dashing into the air after the creatures, flying as if he were a winged wolf. The direwolf easily caught up to the two dementors, its enormous form allowing it to strike them with his claws and send them crashing down to the train.
Only to meet Harry's flaming sword as he unceremoniously cut them in half in two swift slashes. Once more, the ear-splitting, glass-shattering screeches of the dementors were followed by two more cuts from Harry as he decapitated their rotted heads and silenced them for good. More souls escaped from them, all of them floating away up to the heavens, and Harry sighed in relief once the unnatural cold dissipated. There were no more dementors.
The ethereal being landed beside him, and Harry smiled at his dearest companion. "Thanks for the assist, Ghost."
The direwolf, however, did not reciprocate. In fact, Harry could feel its hackles raised before the patronus howled silently at the now clear skies and the last rays of the sun shone down at them. Harry shivered as, although the howl was silent, he could tell that Ghost would not howl without a reason, and he had the sudden feeling that something had gone terribly wrong.
That feeling solidified when one of the souls remained floating in front of him, seemingly hesitating between climbing up or remaining on earth. It seemed to spark and shine brighter for a moment before the soul zipped past him towards the rear of the train, and after a bit of deliberation, Harry followed it. He did not know why, but a sense of foreboding and dread filled him, and when he reached the rear of the train, Harry cursed.
Not even Hedwig arriving with his wand made him feel better at the terrible sight before him; the destroyed compartment, the collapsed and injured form of the Potions Master and the distant broken figure far below on the rocky ground. His attention was grabbed by a burst of flames behind him to find Dumbledore arriving with Fawkes, his face furious as his magic roiled and encompassed the entire mountain range, yet it quickly receded when the elderly warlock realised he was too late.
Many of you had wondered what Cinder had taken from Snape. Some thought it was memories of Lily, which was partially correct. She had good intentions as she removed the target of Snape's obsession, both love and hatred, which allowed him to finally live for himself rather than for others.
Sadly, every action has its consequences, and Snape did not get the chance to create new happy memories.
If you would like to support me, or read five chapters ahead (total of twenty across all of my stories), join me on my Patr(eo)n under the same penname.