"Sometimes I think we sort too soon…"

                        -Albus Dumbledore (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows)

The hallway seemed endless. Harry walked without delay, knowing that there’d be no way to change fate. As soon as Dumbledore’s portrait had finished telling him about the final horcrux, Harry had headed out of the office without a glance behind. The Ravenclaw diadem destroyed, he couldn’t bear to think about what he must do next. He didn’t need to ask for directions, for the pain of Voldemort's presence stabbing his forehead was acting like a tide under a full moon.

And then all of a sudden his walk came to an end, with the doors to the Great Hall standing in front of him. Harry lifted his hand to open the doors but they swung open by themselves, and across the empty space of the Great Hall stood Voldemort, directly below the gaping bat-shaped hole in the window Snape had left behind. Harry was almost hypnotized by the ripples in Voldemort’s cape, which seemed to swirl far too violently for the amount of wind that should be able to enter through the shattered window. Nagini, covered in a blue glow, slithered around Voldemort and hissed.

“Harry!” came a shout from the right side of the room. It took him a moment to notice the crowds standing on both sides of the room: Order members and those loyal on the right, Death Eaters on the left. He could see thick shields preventing either side from passing into the center aisle, leaving Harry alone with the Dark Lord.

Harry caught Ron’s eyes and looked away. He couldn’t bear to see the expression on his friend's face. Not now. Instead, he proceeded towards Voldemort.

“Harry Potter, the boy who lived, come to die.”

As he walked forward, Harry wanted to wipe the wicked smile off Voldemort’s face; hopefully, someone would do it once Voldemort was killed. Once Voldemort killed him.

But suddenly the expression on Voldemort’s face changed and the evil wizard appeared to be looking at something behind Harry. There was a commotion from both sides of the room and Harry was compelled to turn around.

Snape stood at the entrance to the Great Hall. He was in his usual black robes, but he looked different, oddly juvenile, for the Sorting Hat was sitting on his head. In any other situation it would have been comical. Harry could imagine a young Snape sitting on the stool for his sorting, the hat shouting Slytherin! before it touched his head. Yet the hat wasn’t shouting; it was just sitting there, firmly on his head.

Snape marched forward with his expression as still as stone, eyes transfixed on Voldemort. He strode by Harry as if not even seeing him, and came to a stop in front of Voldemort. The tension was palpable as the two crowds waited to see what would transpire. Harry bet that Snape would need a very good reason for interrupting Voldemort’s plan, and Nagini’s continued swirling seemed to echo Voldemort’s impatience. In one swoop, Snape removed the hat, bowed and got down on one knee.

"My Lord."

There were snickers and jeers from the right, but Snape paid no attention. He reached into the hat and there was a flash of silver. The Sword of Gryffidor! Pulling it out, Snape held it before Voldemort. "I present you—a gift."

Whispers of concern came from Harry’s right.

"Don't worry," said a Weasley twin, "Whatever they’re planning, it will backfire. Only a true Gryffindor can use the Sword."

There was laughter. “I’d like to see a Slytherin try to—”

Suddenly an animalistic scream filled the room. Snape had plunged the sword into Nagini and was fighting to hold his ground, gripping the sword with two hands as the snake thrashed around.

Voldemort cast a curse on Snape but there was a flash of light and some sort of explosion and the Dark Lord was thrown backwards, emitting a strangled scream.

Nagini snapped her jaw towards Snape’s arm and tore off a chunk of black fabric. She hissed and snapped again, this time drawing blood.

Voldemort regained his balance and cast another curse, which also backfired.

The snake attacked with her tail, knocking Snape to his knees, but Snape held the sword in place. Harry felt himself tense with apprehension, knowing how important it was for Snape to win this battle. Seeing Snape waiver as the snake struck him again, Harry wished he'd given more thought to how he himself would destroy Nagini before Voldemort killed him, should Snape fail.

Voldemort produced a sword of his own, gleaming a ghastly white, and raised it over his head.

Knowing time was up, Snape twisted the sword as deep as it could go, releasing his right arm just as Voldemort brought the sword down, slashing off Snape’s left arm. The Sword of Gryffindor fell, and Nagini slumped to the ground, twitching for a moment and then falling still. 

Voldemort let out a curdled scream, hunched over Nagini and yanked out the Sword of Gryffindor. Raising the sword above his head, Voldemort whipped his head around to face Snape, who had fallen backwards and was trying to catch his breath. As he brought it down over Snape, the sword flashed a brilliant crimson and Voldemort was sent flying backwards yet again, the sword clanking to the ground. He shrieked and held his burning hands in front of his eyes.

“You will pay for this, you traitor! Son of a muggle! You…that mudblood! I should’ve known!” Voldemort rasped as he rose and approached Snape again, calling his wand to his hand. “But I don’t have time for endless torture right now. And death would be much to kind for you. No,” Voldemort hissed, “you deserve much worse.”

Snape didn't have his wand, Harry realized. “Snape!” He tossed his wand to his once hated professor, for it seemed that Snape would need it more than him, though he knew that however impressive Snape’s skills might be, they were no match for Voldemort.

“Harry, no!” Snape grabbed the wand and rolled it back to Harry’s feet whilst struggling to stand up. He swayed and Harry noticed his left arm, severed at the elbow. But for some reason all Harry could think about was that Snape had called him by his given name.

“Oh how touching,” Voldemort mocked. “Your sacrificial intentions are lovely, but I regret to inform you that neither of you stand a chance.”  Voldemort leered and raised his wand toward Snape.

"Consumebaris magicum conmure centrum." A jet of rust-colored light shot towards Snape, knocking him back to the ground, the air crackling around him. Harry waited for the screams of agony, but they never came. Was Snape dead on the spot? But then Snape sat up, seemingly unaffected.

Snape lurched over to Harry’s wand, which had ended up on the floor between them. Grasping the wand, he pushed off the ground with his right hand, swaying into a standing position. He lifted the wand.

“Ah ha ha!” came a distinctive laughter from the left. Bellatrix. “You wouldn’t dare, Snape! Or if so, you are a greater fool than I’d ever imagined.”

The Death Eaters roared in laughter. What did she mean? Harry glanced at Voldemort to see if he might do something, but the dark wizard was just standing there, looking most conceited.

Paying no heed to the taunts, Snape raised the wand, but not toward Voldemort.

With Snape pointing the wand Harry's chest, the boy was struck with doubt. Maybe Snape wasn’t on their side after all and had killed Nagini for other reasons? But Harry could see no hatred in Snape’s eyes, just pain. Pain and—he couldn’t tell what else, but there was something else. Would Snape kill Harry instead of letting Voldemort do it? Was that the plan? But Voldemort had to do it, Dumbledore had said so.

Rather than attacking, however, Snape raised the wand and in a gentle swoop, circled it over his head. "Expecto Patronum." A silver doe leapt out of the wand and walked toward Harry, whose eyes widened. The doe patronus. Could it be the same from the forest? This one was just as clear as the one he remembered, so distinct you could see the eyelashes hooding the eyes. Before Harry had time to think about the significance, he heard a soft, apologetic voice Harry had never known Snape to use before. “It is time, Harry.”

Harry broke his gaze away from the doe and looked up at Snape. He was startled to see Snape now bent over, leaning heavily with right arm on his leg, with an expression of agony on his face. For a moment Harry wondered if it could possibly be concern at Harry’s imminent demise, but he noticed how Snape’s hair was clinging to his face, soaked in sweat, as if it took every ounce of his energy to stand there casting that patronus. As Harry looked into the dark eyes he got a sense of urgency and Snape nodded him on. Harry nodded back. He turned to Voldemort and could feel energy radiating from the doe as it joined Harry at his side.

A bark of laughter came from Voldemort. “If you were going to choose one final spell to cast, that has to be the absolute worse choice. Whatever you think it’s going to do, it is nothing against my powers. Oh yes, I know what it is. Love.” Voldemort spat the word out as if it were the most fowl word created. “You want to show one last sign of affection before this all comes to an end. Severus Snape, you’re a greater fool than I imagined. Pity that loony old coot brainwashed you. I thought you had potential.” Voldemort turned to address the crowds, sweeping his arm through the air. “No matter, for once I defeat Harry Potter, this world will be so full of darkness no one will be able to produce that disgusting spell or any other pathetic signs of weakness.”

“Love is never a weakness,” Harry found himself saying, and at that moment felt immense strength and love wrap around him and his fear dissolved. He felt it from his friends standing near, wanting to support him. He felt it at the thought of his parents, his godfather, Dumbledore, and all others who sacrificed themselves for the light. And although he still didn’t really understand Snape, he could tell it was there with him, too, proven in the silver doe that seemed so strange coming from him and yet so familiar.

Harry stepped forward. They would be victorious today. “Darkness can never overpower light, and love--that is the brightest magic of all. It was love that led to your downfall the first time, and love again will defeat you today.”

“Oh you are very mistaken, Harry Potter. Now,” Voldemort cackled, “prepare to die.”

Voldemort raised his wand and screamed "Avada Kadavra!"