Chapitre 321: The Half-Blood Prince
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The flap door to the Astronomy Tower's roof blasted open, and a crowd of people came bursting onto the top. A mix of Aurors and Hogwarts professors, all competent in their own rights, exploded onto the scene with wands whipped out, fully expecting to get involved in a fight. . . . but the reality of the situation was the opposite.
"Albus!" McGonagall huffed in her night robes with a sleep cap on her head.
On the roof stood in the middle were Albus Dumbledore kneeling on the floor with Draco Malfoy laying flat on the ground, his chest moving up and down.
Albus Dumbledore kneeled in the middle with Draco Malfoy laying flat on the ground. The young Malfoy's chest heaved up and down; he had his eyes covered with his arm, and those straining who could hear above their own breathing could hear him mumbling something repeatedly.
"Everything is alright, good people," said Dumbledore with a smile. "Draco here is just having a little bit of difficulty breathing; I'm sure he will be fine in a moment."
Draco's hand weakly shot up and grabbed Dumbledore's robe. "My mother," his eyes bore daggers into the older man.
"Emmeline, if you would," said Dumbledore to a lady in the crowd, "about the thing we talked."
Emmeline Vance, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, nodded and turned to other members who cleared out with her. They had the mission to one Narcissa Malfoy to rescue.
"Poppy, can you escort him to the hospital wing? I think he might also need a dreamless sleep potion for his comfort today," Dumbledore said as he stood up. The Medi-witch scurried to Draco's side; within moments, he was on a stretched and being levitated out of the rooftop with an Auror escort.
"Albus, something terrible has happened," McGonagall spoke the moment she saw a chance, "the Death Eaters! They—."
"Draco tells me he had managed to sneak in some Death Eaters into Hogwarts, yes, I'm aware of it." Dumbledore glanced at the Aurors and professors here present and frowned. The number of people present in front of him was strange. "Are all the Death Eaters already captured? I did hear some sounds of fighting earlier. . . ."
The people looked at each other awkwardly, making Dumbledore confused.
"Is something wrong?"
"Albus. . . the Death Eaters were already captured before we could reach them," said McGonagall. "We tried to look for them but couldn't find a trace of a single person with a Death Eater ensemble on their body or a Darm Mark on their arm. . . the only reason we could even found them was that a ghost discovered them on the seventh floor."
"What happened?" he asked, confused.
One of the Aurors in the crowd spat, "The invisible vigilante happened."
"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked with eyes narrowed.
"On our way here, we came across obstructions. Seemingly every hallway that led to here was blocked by blocks of ice; some were even blocked twice or thrice." McGonagall sighed and shared a glance with others. "And the hallway just outside. . . that was blocked by a block of ice that was at least a couple meters thick, it took a joint effort to melt, cut, sheer through it to get here. We even found another Death Eater on the stair's base."
"How did he get in?" Dumbledore asked, his voice taking a serious note.
McGonagall shook her head. She(or they) had no idea. Nothing pointed where the masked crusader came from or how did he leave. . . or when he left.
Dumbledore's mind swirled in thoughts. The invisible vigilante was an unknown factor he was not expecting to rise up for today. He looked up at the Aurors present on the scene and said, "Aurors, if you could please keep this incident silent until morning, I would also talk to Amelia about this."
The lead Auror stood in attention and nodded. Dumbledore flashed his patent smile but didn't wait for chit-chat. He gave a look to his deputy and walked away with his professors in tow.
"What is it? Is something wrong? I can tell something's wrong," McGonagall's wrong.
"Find where Severus is," Dumbledore said with urgency. "No, wait," he paused and turned to Lily, "please get me the twins and ask them to bring the map with them."
The words on Lily's tongue about her children died when she heard about her map. She nodded, "I will get the map. I know how to use it," and she went off rushing.
"Is there something you want to tell us, Albus?"
Dumbledore turned to face his professors and started with a sigh, "Severus took a vow, an Unbreakable Vow. . . ."
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Dumbledore, the Head of the Houses, Lily Potter, and two Aurors, James Potter and Sirius Black, stood in front of one of the many classrooms of Hogwarts.
"He's in there," said Lily with deep sadness in her eyes.
"The door is open," Sirius pointed out. He exchanged glances with James, who nodded. The two Senior Aurors took out their wands, one spell later, and they were inside the room.
The room was empty. . . except for one thing.
Severus Snape sat against the wall, his head bowed down, dressed in his black robes as if it was just another day, and he was ready to face it with all his dark, sneering, meanness. Yet the same man who was always at attention, his vulture gaze always glaring at any potential prey, with a poison vial on his tongue. . . the same man had his head bowed, back hunched, his long oily hair falling in the front of his face, nothing that would reflect what the man actually was.
Everyone in the room knew that Severus Snape had promised an Unbreakable Vow. He had made a deal in the heat of the situation, knowing well that there was a chance— no, it was almost inevitable — that he wasn't going to be able to uphold the promises that his life depended upon.
Albus Dumbledore was going to live, which meant that Severus Snape wasn't going to.
Everyone knew that.
And that's what happened, Severus Snape was dead.
Yet, for some reason, Severus Snape had a beautiful spread of sparkling white lily flowers with lovely yellow stamens that only served to accentuate their beauty, spread over him as if serenading the man.
"Was he. . . here?" Sirius put the thoughts in everyone's minds into words. "Did the invisible vigilante do this?"
James Potter stared at the flower spread and the man he had never liked. The man he loathed for putting his family in danger by whispering the prophecy into Voldemort's ears. The reason for his parents' death. He always thought he would feel joyous the day Snape would die, but that wasn't the case; there were no such emotions. He wasn't sad about the man's death, yet he wasn't happy about it. He turned to his wife and found her also staring, but he could see the sadness in her eyes, unlike him.
Lily watched her estranged childhood friend. The first person she ever knew from the world she had ended up adopting, the one who had told her so much about it when she was just a naive girl with stars in her eyes, prepared for what was to come. She hated Snape for the danger he had put her children into— if it was just her, she could've thought differently, but not when it came to her children. Yet the same person was her friend. She couldn't stop the feelings from her formative years rising, the ones from before everything astray, and she had lost her best friend, and he had lost her. She stared at the lilies, and her feelings further complicated— she knew that while Snape had relayed the prophecy to Voldemort, he had also pleaded with Dumbledore for her safety. . . and she didn't know how to feel about that.
"Oh, Severus," Dumbledore walked to Snape with slow steps.
He had been Headmaster of Hogwarts for long decades. He had seen children enter his school and leave as adults. Snape held a special place in Dumbledore's heart as a student. When students graduated, he would seldom see them, only at events or in passing by. But Snape had entered his sanctuary when he was eleven, and apart from the two turbulent years of war right after graduation, Snape had always been in Dumbledore's sight, first as a student, next as a peer.
He had come to trust the man. He had come to see that the troubled man with all his various faults had walked the road of redemption, not allowing himself the life's jor so that he could repent for the mistakes he had made. Dumbledore stared at Snape, a rare moment of dullness in his blue eyes. He had again failed another of his students. Dumbledore wondered if he could have done things differently, if he had done better, maybe Snape would've been alive. . . maybe even happy.
"I'm sorry, Severus," he muttered, a teardrop entering his beard, "I am sorry."
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The portrait door to the Headboy Suite opened, and Quinn stepped inside his room with heavy steps. Every step felt like he was walking in wet mud, pulling him down and becoming heavier with each step.
The lights in the room turned up when he entered momentarily before turning down at a silent command from Quinn, plunging into cold darkness— something he felt he needed right now.
Darkness could hide him, he thought.
Quinn raised his hand to his chest. He looked at his hand, and he could still feel as if the green glow was still flashing from his palm. After staring at the palm of his hand, he tapped the chest, and Noir that covered reverted back into the base state. It shrunk down into a triangular plate and fell onto the ground.
He stared at it. The thoughts of picking it up passed his mind. It wouldn't take any physical movement from him. Just a single command and the Noir plate could be in his hand or in his briefcase.
Quinn didn't pick it up, leaving it on the floor. Instead, he walked to his bed and let himself fall into it. He laid on his stomach with his face to the side, staring at the single spot in the room illuminated by the moonlight stretching from the gap in the curtain.
He had taken a human life.
He had killed.
Did he feel guilt? No.
Was he going to give some excuse for justification? No.
Was he utterly unbothered by it? No.
He felt numb, as if his heart and mind had been stunted. There was no sadness, no horror, nor regret about taking life, nothing at all. It felt like Occlumency had been turned up, and his emotions had been disconnected, yet he could tell that mind magic wasn't the reason behind his state.
As he blankly stared at the moonlit spot in the room, his eyesight started to darken. He was tired. But sleep wasn't the thing that was taking over him. He was losing control. His time for in control of his own body had come to an end.
As the darkness took over him, Quinn decided to close his eyes and go to sleep. He was tired, and right now, he couldn't feel anything.
«Sleep, I will take care of it from here on. It's okay, I will take over for you.»
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Quinn West - MC - Numb ~ Linkin Park.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Quinn couldn't break an Unbreakable Vow, at least not right now. I hadn't laid the suitable groundwork for it, and introducing it out of nowhere would leave a bitter taste in my mouth. I mean, I have made some sketchy writing choices, but introducing something without groundwork is not one of them.
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