For a moment, Harry could only stare at his Potion professor standing in the blasted doorway.

Snape…

Everything suddenly fell into place. Snape had been the one to drop the wards around the school. That was the only explanation. Without Dumbledore there to keep them up, any of the other teachers with enough knowledge to could have easily dropped the wards by keying into their magical signature.

And the blast…

The door had been blasted outward, not inward. Voldemort couldn’t have done that from the outside. It had been Snape that destroyed the castle‘s last defense. He must have been behind them, unseen in the hallway, when the last ward fell. There was no other way Voldemort could have breached the castle without the help of someone inside… Someone unable to fight his command…

“Well done, slave!” Voldemort laughed again, his eyes like two points of fire in the moonlight. “But I must admit I hadn’t anticipated such a large explosion. You must have more power than I originally thought. Perhaps I will let you live a little bit longer even though you’ve finally served your purpose...”

Snape said nothing, but slowly weaved his way through the wreckage to the Dark Lord‘s side. His eyes were empty and dull and he came to a stop in front of Voldemort and dropped to one knee. “Master…” he whispered. “I have done as you commanded…”

Voldemort grinned, his eyes flashing wickedly in the chilly night. “Storm the castle!” he commanded, turning to his ranks of Death eaters. “Kill all Mudbloods and any Purebloods that will not swear allegiance to our side. And find Dumbledore. I know the old man is still in there. But do not kill him. That is to be my pleasure…” He flashed a skeletal smile that sent a chill racing down Harry’s spine.

“What about Harry Potter, my Lord?” one of the Death eaters asked.

Lucius Malfoy. Harry recognized the voice instantly.

Voldemort grinned and casually glanced to his right, right to where Harry stood no more than twenty feet away, as if he‘d already known he was there. “No need…” he chuckled evilly. “The boy is already here.” Several dozen Death eaters all turned to stare at the battered boy. “He probably came running to warn everyone when he felt his dear Potions master begin dropping the wards. Probably thought he could help… Foolish boy… MacNair, Avery, seize him!”

Harry barely managed to duck behind a charred piece of the castle’s siege door before a curse hit the ground right where he’d been standing no more than two seconds before.

“The rest of you storm the castle!” Voldemort yelled, pointing to the gutted remains of Hogwarts.

Harry tore his wand out of his tattered robe and aimed it at his closest assailant. “Expelliarmus!”

One of the masked man caught the spell in the chest, and fell to the debris-littered ground, his wand sailing out of his hand into the night. The other Death eater quickly dodged another spell by Harry, and answered it with one of his own.

Harry scrambled to shield himself, and ducked behind another chunk of debris. He cast another curse. But the Death eater dodged it.

Behind him, Harry could hear the other Death eaters running through the wreckage towards the castle. He heard the sound of curses being chanted and the concussive sound of magic meeting magic as they met resistance. The teachers were putting up a defense, pushing back the Death eaters‘ advance. The air began to sizzle and crack with the charge of hot magic. Harry heard screams and more curses, but couldn’t look to see who was winning.

Another curse came and hit the ground barely inches in front of his feet. Harry scrambled backwards and shot off another Disarming Charm.

The man - MacNair or Avery, he couldn’t tell which because of their masks - blocked the attack and spun to deliver another powerful curse. Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t fast enough to dodge or shield himself this time, and hit the ground hard, dazed and hurt.

He felt a Body Binding curse wrap itself around his arms and legs, immobilizing him. And then he was being bodily dragged across the wood splintered ground to the Dark Lord’s feet. Lucius and Snape were there, the Potion mater still kneeling submissively on one knee, watching his student be dragged in front of Dark Lord with dull disinterest.

“My, my, my, Harry…” Voldemort chuckled as the Death eater finally dropped him and stepped back, leaving the boy on the snowy ground like some sacrificial lamb. The Dark Lord slowly bent over Harry and plucked his wand out of his paralyzed hand. He turned it slowly over in his skeletal white hand, examining it in the pale moonlight.

“I didn’t think I would ever recover my trophy,” he laughed, his blood red eyes staring down at Harry like some demonic god of Death. “Or finally have you laying at my feet at the moment of your death…”

Harry felt a thrill of horror go through him.

It must have shown on his face because Voldemort chuckled evilly. “Oh, don’t fret, my boy,” he simpered. “I don’t want to kill you just yet. I want to enjoy this first before I finally reunite you with your Mudblood mother.”

Voldemort glanced at Snape still watching them with a blank look of indifference in his spell-glazed eyes. He showed no emotions or feelings, as if he didn’t even care what was happening. The Dark Lord grinned.

“I should have thought of this years ago,” he said, turning back to Harry. “Snape has proven much more useful to me as a traitor than he ever was a spy. It was so easy to break into the castle once I had the assistance of my unwilling slave. It took some… convincing… on my part to finally make him do what I wanted, but look at how easy I was able to break into Dumbledore’s perfect little sanctuary for you once he was finally out of the picture.”

“You made Snape poison Dumbledore’s drink,” Harry spat, meeting Voldemort’s blood red gaze with contemptuous green.

Voldemort grinned. “Yes. Although he failed in what I actually wanted him to do. I wanted him to kill Dumbledore once and for all. But the old coot somehow managed to survive. Nevertheless,” Voldemort chuckled, “once Hogwart’s main defense was gone - namely that Mudblood-loving old fool - the castle was easy to invade.”

Harry laughed, causing Voldemort to look down at him queerly. “What do you find so funny, boy?” he hissed.

Harry glared back up at him, mockery in his eyes. “You. You think Dumbledore surviving was a mistake? It wasn’t. It was Professor Snape. He made sure he tried to “kill” Dumbledore with something someone else would know how to counteract. Snape‘s still fighting your hold over him even with that stone you used on him.” Voldemort looked slightly surprised by Harry’s revelation, but Harry went on before he could speak. “You don’t have half as much control over your ‘slave’ as you think you do,” he laughed. “Even though you’re controlling Snape, he’s still fighting you every inch of the way. Isn‘t that why you had to wait almost five months before you could finally attack?”

Voldemort glared at Harry, anger flashing through his eyes. Harry could see him almost shaking with rage. “Is that so?” he hissed, towering over Harry. “You think I have no control over my slave?”

“Let me take care of the boy, my Lord,” Lucius Malfoy said, stepping up to them. “Let me teach this boy to respect your power.”

Voldemort shook his head. “No,” he said, visibly simmering with rage. “I have a better idea…” He glanced at Snape. “Slave!” he yelled, making Snape look up at him with lifeless black eyes. “Come here…”

Snape mindlessly moved to obey, coming to the Dark Lord’s side.

Behind them, the sound of battle was becoming more intense. More teachers had arrived and were fighting off the Death eaters’ advance. Several Aurors and other fighters had also appeared along the defending side; the Order, it appeared, somehow alerted to the attack. Curses and spells cut the air, like a deadly firework display of power.

Voldemort looked back down at Harry as Snape came to a stop beside him and grinned, vindictive evil shining in his eyes. “Slave,” he said, glancing at Snape, “I want you to torture young Mr. Potter here.” He stepped back, leaving Snape and Harry alone in a small ring of snow and debris. “Show him just how much power I have over you. Do it. Torture him. Crucio him until he screams for death to end his suffering…”

Harry stared up at Snape, fear washing over him. Snape towered over him like a black angel of death. His wand was held out in front of him, poised over the helpless boy. His lifeless black eyes gazed down at him, as if not even recognizing who it was he was about to curse.

For a moment, no one moved or spoke, even the sound of battle fading away into the background. For a brief moment of time nothing else seemed to exist except the man and boy in the middle of the debris-strewn lawn, frozen in that single moment of time.

Harry pleading stared up at Snape, begging with him not to listen to Voldemort’s command. The Potion master’s eyes stared back, hollow and lifeless.

“Do it!” Voldemort yelled from somewhere behind Snape.

The Potion master raised his wand and aimed it at the paralyzed boy. Harry turned away and shut his eyes, expecting the painful curse to fall at any moment.

But nothing happened.

Slowly, Harry opened his eyes and looked back up at Snape. The Potion master was still staring down at him, but his eyes were suddenly their usual piercing black color. His wand was shaking in his grip, as if physically fighting with himself not to incant the painful Unforgivable.

“Slave!” Voldemort roared, his eyes flashing ire. “Curse him! I command you to! I am your Master! You cannot disobey me!”

Snape’s hand slowly stopped shaking. For a moment, Harry thought his Potion master had lost the inner battle with himself to fight Voldemort’s command. But then the Potion master suddenly dropped his hand, his wand falling limp by his side, and stepped back from the boy, an unreadable look shadowing his eyes.

“Slave!” Voldemort roared. Harry felt the very air around him grow hot with the Dark Lord’s wrath.

“Crucio!” Lucius yelled, and Snape fell writhing to the ground. His wand fell from his hand and landed close to Harry‘s side, almost as if deliberately thrown there...

Lucius came up beside Snape and glared down at him, not releasing the curse until he heard the Potion master’s voice begin to grow hoarse. “How dare you defy the Dark Lord’s command?” he yelled, and laid another curse on the fallen man.

Harry, meanwhile, struggled to move. He could feel the Death eater’s Body Binding spell slowly starting to fade around him. He could just begin to move his hands again. Slowly, gropingly, he reached for Snape’s fallen wand…

“Malfoy!” Voldemort yelled, but it was already too late. Harry’s searching fingers tightened around the Potion master’s wand and threw a brutal Stinging curse at the masked man’s back.

Lucius crumbled to the ground, his Crucio over Snape broken. The Potion master slowly pulled himself to his feet, but did not make any attempt to disarm the man, join the fight, or run. He merely stood there like a statue, as if unable to find the will or desire to move.

Harry encanted a quick Reversal Spell and removed the last lingering trace of the Death eater’s curse from him. Aiming Snape’s wand at Voldemort he yelled, “Accio wand!”

His wand went flying out of the startled Dark Lord’s hand back into his own.

“No!” Voldemort yelled.

Sparing Snape one last look, Harry tossed the Potion master’s wand back to him - which was deftly caught by the silent man - and then ran with all his might back towards the castle where the battle continued to rage between Light and Dark.

He heard several angry, deadly-sounding curses hit the ground behind him, but didn’t pause to look back as he frantically weaved in and out of the destroyed remains of siege door.

He had to get back to the castle. He had no hope of winning if he tried fighting Voldemort, Malfoy, and possibly Snape again by himself. He was lucky Snape managed to fight the Dark Lord command and had dropped his wand where he did, but Harry wasn’t about to risk trying his luck… Snape was still obviously under the Dark Lord’s power, and couldn’t be trusted to save him again. Not until he found someone to help him save Snape.

He blindly ran, stumbling and crawling over the debris, still dazed and unsteady from the blast that had nearly killed him. He’d been lucky again with that. If Snape had put any more power behind that explosion…

Harry suddenly felt his foot catch against something half buried in the snow, and fell face first into the ground. He hurriedly tried to push himself up, but found his strength beginning to fail. It looked like the blast and his fight with Voldemort and the Death eaters had taken more out of him than he wanted to admit. Dark spots danced across his vision. Half laying there, panting in the snow, Harry felt the cold chill of the winter night begin to worm its way down through his tattered school robes.

Coughing against cold air invading his burning lungs, Harry pushed himself back to his feet. The sound of battle still raged several hundred feet away. He couldn’t make outthe faces of any of the fighters, but the hiss and snap of spells urged him to hurry to go to his side’s aide. The Death eaters were numerous, and Harry didn’t know how many teachers had been hurt in the blast or how many Order members had responded to the attack.

As he forced his beaten body back into motion, he happened to catch sight of a dark figure standing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest less than a hundred feet away. As he watched, it was like the very shadows of the forest came to life, and a large black form separated itself from the darkness.

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat as he stared back, unbelievingly, into the blood red eyes of a Thestral.

The demon-horse gave a snort and trotted to Harry where it curiously sniffed his blood streaked face. Harry - moving more on automatic now than actual thought - dazedly reached up and pet the Thestral’s head.

“What are you doing here?” he wondered out loud.

The horse, obviously, said nothing in response, but once more sniffed him. It took Harry a moment to realize that the Thestral wasn’t actually smelling him but rather the blood caked dirt plastering his face and hands.

“Stop it,” he weakly murmured when the horse ventured a nip at the bloody grime. The Thestral obeyed and lowered its head.

As Harry stood there, he saw several more Thestrals appear along the forest’s edge, their glowing red eyes piercing the darkness. They hungrily sniffed the air, brought by the smell of blood.

Harry glanced back at the ongoing fight. A sudden thought came to him. He quickly looked back at the Thestral beside him.

Hermione had said he might still have some kind of link with the spirit world because of his accident last June, which might also explain the Thestrals attraction to him. Could he somehow use that to his advantage now?

Forcing the Thestral to look at him, Harry met its blood red gaze undaunted. He stared into its fiery eyes, willing it to hear his thoughts.

Go help the others… he silently commanded. Go fight the ones invading the castle…

For a moment, he doubted his plan was going to work. But then the Thestral suddenly gave an angry snort and flapped its wings. Rearing back onto its hind legs, it viciously snapped its teeth. The other Thestrals along the forest edge seemed to answer and let up a horrible screeching sound.

Harry stumbled backwards, frightened. What was going on? Were they going to attack him? A wave of panic coursed through him.

The Thestral in front of him fell back to all fours and angrily pawed the ground, its wings beating the air savagely.

But instead of attacking Harry like the frightened boy thought, the Thestral reared up again and suddenly took to the air. The other Thestrals followed suite, and before Harry knew it, were flying straight towards the sound of battle like a pack of hungry attack dogs.

As he watched, a frightened scream echoed back to him across the lawn of the castle. He saw the black forms of the Thestrals descend upon the hoard of Death eaters and begin attacking them, using claws, wings and teeth. The Death eaters screamed in surprise and started dividing their attacks between the attacking Thestrals and the wizards and witches still defending the castle.

As the tide of battle began to shift in favor of those defending Hogwarts, Harry suddenly saw a figure in shimmering blue robes appear in the broken wall of the castle. At first Harry thought he was imagining things - that the explosion had somehow rattled his brain when he‘d been thrown.

But then the figure aimed a wand and sent a bright purple jet of magic out towards one of the Death eaters, stunning the man unconscious to the ground.

Dumbledore…

How the old wizard was there barely twelve hours after suffering a near-fatal poisoning was beyond Harry’s understanding. But the boy didn’t care right then how it was possible. Only that is was.

Harry felt a small wave of hope rise up in him. Dumbledore was back! Maybe they could win this battle after all. Maybe they could beat Voldemort back. Maybe-

The pain of a curse exploding against his back abruptly cut off Harry’s last line of thought. He crumpled to the ground with a scream of pain.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you, boy, using Thestrals like that?” a cold voice said behind him.

Pushing himself to his knees, Harry painfully looked over his shoulder to see - with a renewed thrill of horror - Voldemort standing there with Lucius and Snape at his side. The Potion master’s eyes were once again dull and empty, smothered under the weight of the Dark Lord‘s curse.

Harry scrambled to his feet, clumsily trying to aim his wand at the attacking pair. “Expelliar-”

“Solio Dolim!” Lucius shouted.

Harry fell screaming to the ground, blood gushing from numerous cuts that suddenly appeared across his face, arms, and chest. He lay there motionless, gasping for air as the snow around him began to turn crimson from his own blood.

Lucius stepped up to where he lay. “Annoying little brat,” he hissed, aiming his wand at Harry‘s bleeding form. “I’ll teach you to do that again. Cruci- AH!” The man suddenly doubled over, grasping his shoulder.

Savagely whipping around, Lucius came face to face with the point of Severus Snape’s wand. There was a hint of light in the Potion master’s eyes again, but it was weak.

For a moment neither Voldemort, Lucius, or Harry moved, all of them staring at the cursed Potions master, stunned.

“Leave him alone,” Snape softly hissed between clenched teeth. His wand hand was once again shaking, as though physically fighting against the Dark Lord’s curse. “Don’t touch him again…”

Lucius’ face twisted into an ugly sneer. “I’m not putting up with this anymore,” he yelled, aiming his wand at Snape. “You’ve outlived your usefulness, traitor. Now die!”

But he never got a chance to incant any kind of curse, as Harry quickly sprang to life and aimed a curse at the blonde man’s back. “Expelliarmus!”

The red light of the spell hit Lucius square in the back, sending the man stumbling to the ground and his wand flying out of sight into the darkness. Harry began to turn to aim a curse at Voldemort, but was stopped as a Crucio curse suddenly ripped through his already beaten, bleeding body. When the curse finally lifted, Harry lay there motionless, pain threatening to steal his consciousness like a thief in the night. He didn’t think he could have tried to move even if he wanted to.

The hem of Voldemort’s black robes swept into his line of sight. “Foolish boy…” he hissed. “I will make your finally moments on this earth more painful than you can ever imagine. But first…” He turned back to Snape. “CRUCIO!” The Potion master didn’t even have a chance to put up a defense before he once again found himself on the ground, only several feet away from Harry, his screams cutting the air like sharpened blades of steel.

“Do you know how long it takes for someone to die from a continuous Cruciatus Curse?” Voldemort said over the Potion master’s screams. “Twenty minutes. Of course it feels much longer to the person being cursed, but then again they’re too busy trapped in their own living hell of pain to keep track of time. I, however, want to see if I can’t break that record…” Snape screamed again as the Dark Lord intensified the curse, putting so much hatred and wrath behind it Harry found it a miracle Snape didn’t pass out. “Let this be your final lesson, Severus, that those that fight or betray me will only die brutal, horrible deaths. You had a chance to live under my Imperius Curse, but you had to go and fight me trying to protect Dumbledore’s precious little Boy-Who-Lived. Don’t worry though. He’ll join you shortly after I’m done with you…” Once again the Potion master’s scream intensified, verging on what sounded like the edge of mortal tolerance.

“No…” Harry weakly choked, forcing himself up onto his elbow. “No… Reducto!”

A brilliant streak of red shot out of Harry’s wand and hit Voldemort, breaking the Dark Lord’s curse. Snape fell limp to the ground, barely breathing. Voldemort staggered away from Snape, holding his shoulder as he glared at Harry with murderous rage.

“You little…” The Dark Lord hissed, rage stealing all other intelligible speech from him.

But Harry barely even heard him. He barely heard anything in fact because Snape was looking at him, staring into his eyes as he painfully drug himself to his knees. His eyes searched Harry‘s, as if begging him for something he could not ask for with his voice.

A sudden image shot through Harry’s mind, like a mental dart. It was the image of something shiny, black, and small… A stone… It shined brightly, as though charged with some supernatural power…

With a gasp, Harry came back to himself. And finally understood.

Voldemort was moving towards him, his wand held out in front of him to deliver the final punishing curse of his wrath.

But Harry wasn’t paying attention to him. Only his Potions master. Mustering his strength, he forced himself to his knees and aimed his wand at Snape. “Nelus Sectum!”

Snape screamed as spell hit him, his head snapping backwards from the force. Harry saw a spray of blood explode from the Potion master’s neck and then something small fly through the air against the white backdrop of the moon before disappearing into the night.

Voldemort was now almost right on top of him. He aimed his wand directly at Harry’s head.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

Green light exploded from the end of Voldemort’s wand. Harry sat there frozen, unable to move or defend himself.

But the deadly green light never hit him.

Because as he sat there watching Death fly towards him almost as if in slow motion, a dark figure suddenly leapt in front of him, shielding him from the curse.

The green light receded, the darkness rushing back to fill the brilliant void of light the curse had left in its wake. A strange, rustling breeze buffeted Harry’s face.

And as he watched in horror, he saw his feared Potions master and teacher, Severus Snape, slowly crumple to the ground in front of him. Dead.