212[@more@]oblivion, the promise of nothing, of no feeling...
And then a silver hare, a boar, and fox soared past Harry, Ron, and
Hermione's heads: the dementors fell back before the creatures'
approach. Three more people had arrived out of the darkness to
stand beside them, their wands outstretched, continuing to cast
Patronuses: Luna, Ernie, and Seamus.
"That's right," said Luna encouragingly, as if they were back in
the Room of Requirement and this was simply spell practice for the
D.A., "That's right, Harry...come on think of something happy..."
'something happy?" he said, his voice cracked.
"We're all still here," she whispered, "we;re still fighting. Come
on, now...."
There was a silver spark, then a wavering light, and then, with the
greatest effort it had ever cost him the stag burst from the end of
Harry's wand. It cantered forward, and now the dementors scattered
in earnest, and immediately the night was mild again, but the
sounds of the surrounding battle were loud in his ears.
"Can't thank you enough," said ron shakily, turning to Luna, Ernie,
and Seamus "you just saved--"
With a roar and an earth-quaking tremor, another giant came
lurching out of the darkness from the direction of the forest,
brandishing a club taller than any of them.
"RUN!" Harry shouted again, but the others needed no telling; They
all scattered, and not a second too soon, for the next moment the
creature's vast foot had fallen exactly where they had been
standing. Harry looked round: ron and Hermione were following him,
but the other three had vanished back into the battle.
"Let's get out of range!" yelled Ron as the giant swung its club
again and its bellows echoed through the night, across the grounds
wehere bursts of red and green light continued to illuminate the
darkness.
"The Whomping willow," said Harry, "go!"
Somehow he walled it all up in his mind, crammed it into a small
space into which he could not look now: thoughts of Fred and
Hagrid, and his terror for all the people he loved, scattered in
and outside the castle, must all wait, because they had to run, had
to reach the snake and Voldemort, because that was, as Hermione
said, the only way to end it--
He sprinted, half-believing he could outdistance death itself,
ignoring the jets of light flying in the darkness all around him,
and the sound of hte lake crashing like the sea, and the creaking
of the Forbidden Forest though the night was windless; through
grounds that seemed themselves to have risen in rebellion, he ran
faster than he had ever moved in his life, and it was he who saw
the great tree first, the Willow that protected the secret at its
roots with whiplike, slashing branches.
Panting and gasping, Harry slowed down, skirting the willow's
swiping branches, peering through the darkness toward its tick
trunk, trying to see the single knot in the bark of the old tree
that would paralyze it. Ron and Hermione caught up, Hermione so out
of breath that she could not speak.
"How--how're we going to get in?" panted ron. "I can--see the palce-
-if we jsut had--Crookshanks again--"
"Crookshanks?" wheezed Hermione, bent double, clutching her chest.
"Are you a wizard, or what?"
"Oh--right--yeah--"
Ron looked around, then directed his wand at a twig on the ground
and said "Winguardium Leviosa!" The twig flew up from the gruond,
spun through the air as if caught by a gust of wind, then zoomed
directly at the trunk through the Willow's ominously swaying
branches. It jabbed at a place near the roots, and at once, the
writhing tree became still.
"Perfect!" panted Hermione.
"Wait."
For one teetering second, while the crashes and booms of the battle
filled the air, Harry hesitated. Voldemort wanted him to do this,
wanted him to come...Was he leading Ron and Hermione into a trap?
But the reality seemed to close upon him, cruel and plain: the only
way forward was to kill the snake, and the snake was where
Voldemort was, and voldemort was at the end of this tunnel...
"Harry, we're coming, just get in there!" said Ron, pushing him
forward.
Harry wriggled into the earthy passage hidden in the tree's roots.
It was a much tighter squeeze than it had been the last time they
had entered it. The tunnel was low-ceilinged: they had had to
double up to move throuhgh it nearly four years previously; now
there was nothing for it but to crawl. Harry went first, his wand
illuminated, expecting at any moment to meet barriers, but none
came. They moved in silence, Harry's gaze fixed upon the swinging
beam of the wand held in his fist. At last, the tunnel began to
slope upward and Harry saw a sliver of light ahead. Hermione tugged
at his ankle.
"The Cloak!" she whispered. "Put the Cloak on!"
He groped behind him and she forced the bundle of slippery cloth
into his free hand. With difficulty he dragged it over himself,
murmered, "Nox," extinguishing his wandlight, and continued on his
hands and knees, as silently as possible, all his senses straining,
expecting every second to be discovered, to hear a cold clear
voice, see a flash of green light.
and then he heard voices coming from the room directly ahead of
them, only slightly muffled by the fact that the opening at the
endo fht etuunnel had been blocked up by what looked like an old
crate. Hardly daring to breathe, Harry edged right up tot he
opening and peered through a tiny gap left between crate and wall.
The room beyond was dimly lit, but he could see Nagini, swirlign
and coiling like a serpent underwater, safe in her enchanted,
starry sphere, which floated unsupported in midair. He could see
the edge of a table, and a long-fingered white hand toying with a
wand.
Then Snape spoke, and Harry's heart lurched: Snape was inches away
from where he crouched, hidden.
"...my Lord, their resistance is crumbling--"
"--and it is doing so without your help," said Voldemort in his
high, clear voice. "Skilled wizard though you are, Severus, I do
not think you will make much difference now. We are almost
there...almost."
"Let me find the boy. Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find
him, my Lord. Please."
Snape strode past the gap, and Harry drew back a little, keeping
his eyes fixed upon Nagini, wondering whether there was any spell
that might penetrate the protection surrounding her, but he could
not think of anything. One failed attempt, and he would give away
his position...
Voldemort stood up. Harry could see him now, see the red eyes, the
flattened, serpentine face, the pallor of him gleaming slightly in
the semidarkness.
"I have a problem, Severus," said Voldemort softly.
"My Lord?" said Snape.
Voldemort raised the Elder Wand, holding it as delicately and
precisely as a conductor's baton.
"Why doesn't it work for me, Severus?"
In the silence Harry imagined he could hear the snake hissing
slightly as it coiled and uncoiled--or was it Voldemort's sibilant
sigh lingering on the air?
"My--my lord?" said Snape blankly. "I do not understand. You--you
have performed extraordinary magic with that wand."
"No," said Voldemort. "I have performed my usual magic. I am
extraordinary, but this wand...no. It has not revealed the wonders
it has promised. I feel no difference between this wand and the one
I procured from Ollivander all those years ago."
Voldemort's tone was musing, calm, but Harry's scar had begun to
throb and pulse: Pain was building in his forehead, and he could
feel that controlled sense of fury building inside Voldemort.
"No difference," said Voldemort again.
Snape did not speak. Harry could not see his face. He wondered
whether Snape sensed danger, was trying to find the right words to
reassure his master.
Voldemort started to move around the room: Harry lost sight of him
for seconds as he prowled, speaking in that same measured voice,
while the pain and fury mounted in Harry.
"I have thought long and hard, Severus...do you know why I have
called you back from battle?"
And for a moment Harry saw Snape's profile. His eyes were fixed
upon the coiling snake in its enchanted cage.
"No, my Lord, but I beg you will let me return. Let me find Potter."
"You sound like Lucius. Neither of you understands Potter as I do.
He does not need finding. Potter will come to me. I knew his
weakness you see, his one great flaw. He will hate watching the
others struck down around him, knwoing that it is for him that it
happens. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come."
"But my Lord, he might be killed accidentally by someone other than
yourself--"
"My instructions to the Death Eaters have been perfectly clear.
Capture Potter. Kill his friends--the more, the better--but do not
kill him.
"But it is of you that I wished to speak, Severus, not Harry
Potter. You have been very valuable to me. Very valuable."
"My Lord knows I seek only to serve him. But--let me go and find
the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can--"
"I have told you, no!" said Voldemort, and Harry caught the lgint
of red in his eyes as he turned again, and the swishing of his
cloak was like the slithering of a snake, and he felt Voldemort's
impatience in his burning scar. "My concern at the moment, Severus,
is what will happen when I finally meet the boy!"
"My Lord, there can be no question, surely--?"
"--but there is a question, Severus. There is."
Voldemort halted, and Harry could see him plainly again as he slid
the Elder Wand through his white fingers, staring at Snape.
"Why did both the wands I have used fail when directed at Harry
Potter?"
"I--I cannot answer that, my Lord."
"Can't you?"
The stab of rage felt like a spike driven through Harry's head: he
forced his own fist into his mouth to stop himself from crying out
in pain. He closed his eyes, and suddenly he was Voldemort, looking
into Snape's pale face.
"My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except
to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under
torture of the twin cores, told me to take another's wand. I did
so, but Lucius's wand shattered upon meeting Potter's."
"I--I have no explanation, my Lord."
Snape was not looking at Voldemort now. His dark eyes were still
fixed upon the coiling serpent in its protective sphere.
"I sought a third wand, Severus. the Elder Wand, the Wand of
Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took
it from the grfave of Albus Dumbledore."
And now Snape looked at Voldemort, and Snape's face was like a
death mask. it was marble white and so still that when he spoke, it
was a shock to see that anyone lived behind the blank eyes.
"My Lord--let me go to the boy--"
"all this long night when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat
here," said Voldemort, his voice barely louder than a whisper,
"wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it
ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for
its rightful owner...and I think I have the answer."
Snape did not speak.
"Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all,
Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret
what must happen."
"My Lord--"