Chapter Five: Diadem and Death

Hermione was in shock. As she physically struggled against her restraints, mentally she was struggling as well. How had she been so duped by Severus Snape again? Tears stung her eyes as grief and despair flowed through her heart. Early that morning, seeing Harry and Ron murdered, she thought things couldn't get any worse. To have the opportunity to avenge their deaths so cruelly yanked away in this manner was more than she could bear. She felt hysteria clutching at her throat.

But then she heard the sizzle of a very strong spell and saw a wash of sickly green light flood the room around her. Forced face down on the bed, she couldn't see what was happening. Something heavy hit the floor. What the hell is going on? She had not heard any spell cast, but that greenish light was definitely from a Killing Curse. That meant someone was dead. But who?

A gasp sounded and then silence. That didn't help her identify who was alive or who was not. A few moments later she heard an odd cackle. It sounded like Professor Snape's voice only somewhat higher, though she was absolutely sure that she had never ever heard him cackle before.

"Ah, Severus, I would never have suspected you of such treachery. You will die for your betrayal, of course, after I use your body to produce another one of my own," said the odd voice behind her. "But I might as well use it for a bit of pleasure first, considering the tempting morsel before me. Alas, my reincarnated body does not allow such hedonistic indulgences."

She felt the bed sag as someone climbed onto it. She fought the ropes that her betrayer had restrained her with, panicking at what might happen in the next few moments. As his weight pressed her into the mattress, she saw Professor Snape's black robes flow around her.

Here was a puzzle that desperately needed solving and her brain went into overdrive. She started putting the pieces together. It seemed that Professor Snape had killed Voldemort or, at least, his body and it was evident that the disembodied soul had possessed the man who had torn it asunder. Could this be what he had intended? Or had Professor Snape killed Voldemort in order to replace him? But he must have known the Dark Lord, finding himself bodiless, would possess him. Or is that what Professor Snape had wanted? Fragile wings of hope began to flutter in her heart. If he was actually on her side then why had he betrayed her to Voldemort? Or had he?

As she thought about it, he had not actually divulged any of their plans and he had not uttered one word about the Horcruxes. His last warning to her leapt to the forefront of her mind: You will not like the consequences if you force me to correct any mistake you might make. And she had made a mistake! She had done exactly what Professor Snape had warned her not to do! Our charade tonight will require you to trust me completely and trust me no matter what happens. Excitement coursed through her as his words rang through her mind. He couldn't tell her exactly what his plan had been, she saw the wisdom of that precaution now, but as she reflected on what had just happened, she thought she had figured it out. Professor Snape would need her help now.

"Normally, I would not sully my body with the likes of you, Mudblood," the thing on top of her snickered. "But this isn't my body." The thing inside Professor Snape began running his hands under her, over her belly as it hissed in her ear. But she knew how to put a stop to that.

"It's the last body you will ever have, Tom Riddle," she sneered as best she could. "We've been destroying your Horcruxes."

"What?" he whispered, almost breathless. "How do you know about my Horcruxes?"

"Professor Dumbledore told us about them, told us where they were and told us how to get rid of them," she spit back at him. Well, part of that was true. "We've already destroyed five. One more to go and then you will be dead forever."

"That's not possible," he growled into her ear. "My Horcruxes are heavily magicked. Children would not be able to break them. You are lying," he said coldly and gripped the back of her neck.

"The . . . the diary, in our second year. Harry destroyed it with a basilisk fang. He also killed your basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor. The sword is now imbued with that venom. Dumbledore used it to destroy your ring. Ron Weasley used it to destroy Slytherin's locket. This morning Professor Snape used it to destroy Hufflepuff's cup and your hideous snake, Nagini. We only have one more to go."

"How could you . . . how could you . . . "

The man on top of her went very still, then he carefully lifted up.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," the voice had resumed Professor Snape's low timber. "I have the information that I need."

Snape removed his robes and draped them over the naked girl. He dare not release her from her restraints just yet. He quickly strode through bedroom into his office where he picked up the sword of Gryffindor off his desk. Taking the stairs two at a time, he gained the corridor. He could feel the astonishment of his former master as he handily took control of the mind within his own and trapped it in a dark corner.

Snape's faith in Miss Granger's abilities had not been misplaced. She had prompted thoughts of the Horcruxes in Voldemort's mind and Snape had waited patiently in the background, letting the Dark Lord think he had complete control of him. Now he knew what the last Horcrux was and where it could be found. Reasserting control over his own body he was only minutes from discharging his mission. He hurried down to the fifth floor and strode through the corridors, making his way to where the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy endlessly attempted to teach trolls the ballet.

As he rounded the last corner, he caught sight of someone coming out of the very door he needed access to. The halls were supposed to be cleared! Who was this? He felt a surge of mental energy from the corralled soul he carried with him. Without hesitation and without breaking stride, Snape Stunned the interloper and watched him crumple to the floor. He could not give Voldemort the chance to transfer to someone else.

He approached the Room of Requirement and he saw that the boy laying in the corridor was Neville Longbottom. Longbottom had gone rogue a few months back and the portraits had informed Snape that the boy was holed up somewhere on this floor. And he had to pick this moment to get himself found, Snape griped to himself.

He stepped over the student and began the ritual that opened the Room, striding thrice past where the door would be, focusing on what he needed to find. The door materialized before him and Snape quickly entered.

The amount of junk that confronted Snape was overwhelming. It was stacked in piles all about the cavernous room, barely leaving cluttered trails through the masses of formerly owned debris. But a mental image had been transferred into his mind when Miss Granger had taunted the Dark Lord about his Horcruxes. Her recitation had been brilliant, listing the evil objects and their destroyers one by one. Snape had watched from his Occluded sanctuary as Voldemort's attention was on what the girl was saying and when she had told of the destruction of the last Horcrux on her list, all that the Dark Lord could think of after that was of the Ravenclaw diadem and where it was hidden in the Room of Requirement. Snape had jumped on the visual projection and had wrested his body back from the Dark Lord. He was no weak-minded Quinius Quirrell.

Now he roamed about, trying to match the mental image of where the diadem lay with what he saw in front of him. He could feel the Dark Lord's consciousness struggling in the recess of his mind where Snape had isolated it. Voldemort understood, without a body of his own, as soon as Snape destroyed the last Horcrux, he would die, once and for all. Snape smiled as the shock from that thought flowed into his own mind. The Dark Lord had only minutes to live.

Wait, that looked familiar. Within a few strides the mental and the visual clicked together - for the most part. Not everything was in it's proper place. A few more paces and he spotted it, perched upon the bust of an old warlock which in turn sat upon an acid-stained cabinet. As he reached for the diadem, it began shaking. The bust picked up the vibration and then the cabinet did as well. In an instant, the old cabinet toppled over, spilling it's contents at his feet, including a book. A book he recognized.

"Potter," he muttered and leaned down to pull his old copy of Advanced Potion-Making from the pile. He tucked it into the front of his jacket and reached for the diadem which had fallen from the old bust and rolled a short distance away. Voldemort lashed out.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a spare movement. Wrestling with the effort of confining the Dark Lord's mind within his own, the Shield charm he cast was a split second too slow. The Stunning curse flew out of Neville Longbottom's wand with a confidence that would have made his D.A.D.A. teacher proud, if it weren't aimed at him at precisely this moment. It leaked over the edge of his slower Shield spell and caught his left arm at the shoulder. It was powerful enough to knock him off his feet and send his wand flying, but, thankfully, he remained conscious.

Longbottom approached cautiously, but that would not save the boy. Snape grappled with the foreign entity secreted in his mind. The Dark Lord was trying to leave Snape's body, to transfer over to someone he could control much more easily. It was a different matter entirely, preventing that dark soul from leaving his body than it was simply preventing it from controlling him. The mental effort to hang onto Voldemort left Snape very little ability to do much else. He lay upon the floor, watching as the boy crept closer.

Shaking his head, Snape warned him off. "Stay where you are, Longbottom," he managed to gasp out. With great effort he removed the sword of Gryffindor from his belt and slid it toward the boy. "Destroy . . . " he forced more air into his lungs, " . . . destroy that . . . that crown," he said, pointing shakily at Ravenclaw's diadem by the warlock's bust.

Longbottom stared at the sword for several moments, then slowly bent down to pick it up.

"A little faster, boy!" Snape spat out. But Longbottom's eyes were trained on the feared form of his hated teacher, what he would consider the most wicked headmaster Hogwarts had ever had, not knowing the truth. Snape could read it in his eyes. This was the boy's chance to strike a blow for the Order; to take out Voldemort's depraved first lieutenant; to kill the man who had killed Albus Dumbledore. And Snape had just armed him.

He watched the boy raise the sword over him with both hands. There was only one thing left for Snape to do.

He released the Dark Lord.

The evil spirit shot out of Snape's body and hit Longbottom full in the chest, knocking him to the ground. As the boy fell, he screamed and the sword dropped from his hands. Snape barely managed to roll away before the steely tip of the weapon stabbed into the stone right where he had lain.

He struggled to his feet, knowing that Voldemort would almost immediately overpower the boy. Grabbing the sword he took the two strides to where the diadem sat, raised the sword over his head and struck downward as hard as he could.

As with the other two Horcruxes that he had put to death, an unearthly scream issued forth. This time the scream was mirrored by Longbottom, writhing on the cold stone floor, clutching his head. Snape stared in horror as wispy threads of light streamed from the boy's mouth, nose, eyes and ears as he rolled back and forth in agony. There was nothing he could do but let the process run its course. He retrieved both wands, Longbottom had dropped his as soon as the Dark Lord possessed him, and watched the boy closely.

After a minute or two Longbottom finally seemed to pass out. As soon as Snape could no longer discern any effluent leaving the boy's body, he knelt down beside him. He felt cold and clammy to the touch. Madam Pomfrey should be able to help him now without endangering herself.

"Kreacher!" Snape was getting his galleon's worth from that elf today. "To the hospital wing," he commanded as soon as Kreacher appeared.

They were Apparated to the center of the ward and Madam Pomfrey was instantly by their side.

"Kreacher, fetch Professor McGonagall here," Snape ordered and the elf nodded and disappeared.

"What happened?" she queried him.

"He helped me kill Voldemort," Snape said quietly. "Look after him, Poppy. And let Minerva know that the Dark Lord is dead and that Mr. Longbottom honored his house this evening. I will be back later to check on him. I must see to Miss Granger immediately." With that he stood and headed for the nearest window.

After Professor Snape covered her with his robes, Hermione knew her part in this drama was done and now all she had to do was wait. That might end up being the hardest part for her. She held her breath as she listened to his footsteps leave the bedroom, cross his office and grow fainter as they echoed off the walls of the stairwell. How much longer would it be until this was all over?

Up until now, Professor Snape had planned well and executed those plans flawlessly. And it was about time that the good side got a break, wasn't it? But what if they didn't? What if Voldemort was able to overcome Professor Snape? Who would actually walk back through that door? At every sound the old castle made, Hermione tensed, terrified that Voldemort had won again and was coming for her. Seconds passed, then minutes. After that, her sense of time floated away and she couldn't tell if hours or days had passed.

Her first inkling that this last plan had concluded was a muffled thump from the headmaster's office. An instant after that, the ropes tying her to the bed vanished. That had to mean that Professor Snape had won. A sob bubbled up from her throat that she couldn't stop. Then another. By the time he entered the bedroom, she was weeping openly, unable to get her emotions under control. She sat up, pulling his black robes about her.

Quickly crossing the room, Professor Snape came and stood by the bedside. She looked up at him, tears freely flowing down her face.

"Voldemort is dead. It's over," he said.

She nodded and managed a bit of a smile, despite the tears. But now that it was done; now that she no longer had to be strong in order to defeat Voldemort, her grief came crashing down upon her. The pain was overwhelming. Harry was dead. Ron was dead. Her parents were beyond her reach. She was desperate for human comfort and only Severus Snape stood before her. She tentatively reached out a trembling hand. He hesitated for a moment but then took it, squeezing tightly, understanding.

The dam burst. Where she had been weeping before, sobs took over, wracking her body. She got to her knees on the edge of the bed, wrapped her arms around his waist and just cried. Burying her face into his chest, she let go of all the months of exhaustion built up during their Horcrux hunt; all the terrifying moments where she had been seconds from death; the horrifying session where Bellatrix Lestrange had tortured her for information about the sword; her grief over those who had died to bring Voldemort down. Harry. Ron.

When she felt Professor Snape pry her arms from his waist, she nearly panicked, but he simply sat down on the edge of the bed and eased her across his lap and into his arms. He stroked her hair.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you," he said softly. "I just couldn't take the chance that the Dark Lord would sense any hesitation in my behavior; any nuance that I was protecting you."

She shook her head, sniffing to abate the tears interfering with her speech. "You warned me. I tried to listen, but I was just so angry. I know you did what you had to do and we won. Because of you. We won." With the ebbing of that first wave of near-hysteria, the exhaustion from the past year, the past twenty-four hours, was catching up with her. She quieted in his arms, his rhythmic stroking of her hair and the warmth of his contact made her eyelids droop.

"Will you destroy the body?" she whispered, drifting.

"Not yet. I have need of it," he replied quietly, still stroking her hair. She nodded once and drifted a bit more. Apparently he sensed her sleepiness, shifted, and then lifted her in his arms. She was too far gone to pay much heed. Through her haze she felt him lay her down on the bed and felt the covers being tucked around her. Her eyelids were as heavy as lead, but she struggled to open them one more time.

"Thank you, Professor. For everything."

His only answer was a slow, deep exhalation of breath. As she succumbed to her exhaustion, her lids lowered and then closed. She was so tired, was it possible she had seen what she thought she had? Just as she yielded to sleep . . .

. . . his black, black eyes . . . flashed red.

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Finite Narratio

Author's Note: Yes! There will be a sequel! I've 2 -3 more stories to push out the door and then I'll get to putting this one to paper, so to speak.

Reviews are welcomed and appreciated. Thanks for reading!