Shadows on the Wind

It was a gruesome, horrifying sight.

Now the Death Eaters’ masks were off; they were revealing their faces now that the War raged furiously. They were proud of the innocence they destroyed, the lives they took. They were proud to be serving such a disgusting monster; the knowledge that someone could take pleasure in being associated with such horror was enough to make her nauseous.

Hermione was glancing around, looking to see where she might be needed next. Her eyes fell upon people she knew, people on both sides.

Remus was locked in a duel with Bellatrix. Susan Bones was sending a hex toward Pansy Parkinson.

Was she seeing things? Surely Severus Snape, Death Eater and murderer of the beloved Headmaster of Hogwarts, did not just attack one of his own?

Her momentary lack of concentration almost cost her, and she dove out of the way of a stream of green light.

“Hermione!”

The witch glanced up to see Remus shooting glances towards her.

“Are you alright?” he shouted above the noise.

Neville, who had been close by when she had fallen, caught her by the wrist and hauled her to her feet. They both took off running towards the werewolf as another hex was sent their way. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she called back at their former teacher, as she nodded to her friend. When she glanced across the field, she could see Gregory Goyle lifting his wand toward them, and raised her own in response.

A blast of red shot out beside her, and she watched as the young Slytherin was lifted off his feet and slammed into a Death Eater behind him. She glanced at Neville, who had seen the impending attack, and smiled. “Thanks.”

“HARRY!”

Hermione skidded to a halt at the sight of Severus Snape, Lucius, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy running backwards, sending hexes and curses at Voldemort and his followers.

There was suddenly silence from both sides, and the only voices were from the four that were scrambling across the field, over the dead bodies and carnage created from both Good and Bad.

No one moved. No one spoke. No one could believe what they were seeing, and the silence was almost painful.

The Malfoys were in the lead, with Snape just behind. They were so near; Draco was only a few yards away from McGonagall!

Was it a trick? What if they were just trying to get into their ranks to take them from the inside? What if this was a way to get to The-Boy-Who-Lived?

They were closer now, so close in fact, that you could make out the silver colour of Draco’s irises from the white.

Hermione was just beginning to think their luck was changing, that with these four on their side that they could take down Voldemort for good. She even allowed the corners of her mouth to twitch, pride shining in her eyes.

It was a brave thing, turning your back on the feared Dark Lord.

They were so close!

A hideous shriek filled the air.

It was a curse, and it was streaking its way like horizontal lighting to the Potions master!

She did not move; it was like she was rooted to the spot.

Everyone watched in horror as the black and purple made contact with Snape, hitting him square in the chest. Instead of a flash of light, there was a deafening pop that left her ears ringing painfully as a thick, massive black cloud of smoke began expanding.

Hermione watched in horror as the cloud grew twelve meters in every direction. Sweet Merlin! There was no way that Snape could survive whatever Voldemort had done, but still she prayed to every deity known to man that when the thick cloud disappeared, that the Slytherin would be there.

Voldemort could have attacked then, but the witch detachedly noticed that he did not. Apparently, Snape’s betrayal and punishment were more important to him.

After what seemed to be an eternity, every trace of the cloud was gone. And so was Snape.

Hermione could only blink, her mind going into shock.

She did not know of any curse or hex that could make a person completely disappear like that. It was then that Hermione realized the curse had been spoken in a language that she had not recognized, and her mind was flipping through languages like a rolodex. If she could pinpoint what language it might be, she could look up the translation later.

Hermione could vaguely hear Narcissa screaming, the start of more chaos, but she did not heed any of it. She was still staring blankly at the spot where Severus Snape had been, as if watching the empty air would bring him back.

Surely, he could not be gone.

She did not know how long she had been there, but her attention was pulled away by a dark shadow that passed behind her. She turned to see who was behind her, and saw Justin Finch-Fletchley a few yards away. He was the closest person to her at that moment.