Future Nostalgia / Harry Potter Fanfic

Infiltrating Hogwarts and the Sacking of Severus Snape

Warning: long chapter. If long chapters aren't for you, I highly recommend reading this in parts or taking breaks as you read.

Estella's feet touched road. She saw the achingly familiar Hogsmeade High Street: dark shop fronts, and the outline of black mountains beyond the village, and the curve in the road ahead that led off to Hogwarts, and the light spilling from the windows of the Three Broomsticks, and with a lurch of heart she remembered, with painstaking detail, how she landed hear nearly a year before, support her weak grandfather minutes before everything went wrong.

Harry had taken her hand and squeezed it soothingly, remembering the same memory she had. It felt like ages ago but the memory lingered fresh in their heads.

The air was rent by a scream: It tore at every nerve in Estella's body, and she knew that their appearance had caused it. Even as she looked at the other three beneath the Cloak, the door of the Three Broomsticks burst open and a dozen cloaked and hooded Death Eaters dashed into the street, their wands aloft.

Estella nudged Ron, silently telling him not to raise his wand: there were too many to Stun: Even attempting would give away their position and possibly draw more Death Eaters upon their position. One of the Death Eaters waved his wand and the scream stopped, still echoing around the distant mountains.

"Accio Cloak!" roared one of the Death Eaters.

She stiffened as Harry made to grab the Cloak and Ron and Hermione raised their wands: The Summoning Charm had not worked.

"Not under your wrapper, then, Potter?" yelled the Death Eater who had tried the charm, and then to his fellows, "Spread out. He's here. If he's here, the girl probably is too."

Six of the Death Eaters ran toward them: Estella, Harry, Ron, and Hermione backed as quickly as possible down the nearest side street, and the Death Eaters missed them by inches. They waited in the darkness, listening to the footsteps running up and down, beams of light flying along the street from the Death Eaters' searching wands.

"Let's just leave!" Hermione whispered. "Disapparate now!"

"Great idea," said Ron, but before Estella could reply a Death Eater shouted,

"We know you're here, Potter, and there's no getting away! We'll find you!"

"They were ready for us," whispered Harry. "They set up that spell to tell them we'd come. I reckon they've done something to keep us here, trap us-"

"What about dementors?" called another Death Eater. "Let 'em have free rein, they'd find him quick enough!"

"The Dark Lord wants Potter dead by no hand, but his, and you saw what he did to the Lestranges' and Malfoys' for torturing the girl-"

"-the dementors won't kill him! The Dark Lord wants Potter's life, not his soul. And we just won't let them get the girl. Plus, he'll be easier to kill if he's been Kissed first!"

There were noises of agreement. Dread-filled Estella: to repel dementors, they'd have to produce Patronuses, which would give them away instantly.

"We're going to have to try to Disapparate, Harry!" Hermione whispered.

"If they've put wards against it, it could end up with a result worse than splinching," whispered Estella.

Even as she said it, she felt the unnatural cold settle over the street. The light was sucked from the environment right up to the stars, which vanished. She felt Hermione take hold of her arm, and Harry's slid their hands back together.

They could not Disapparate; the Death Eaters had cast their charms well. The cold bit at the exposed parts of her skin. She, Harry, Ron, and Hermione retreated down the side street, gripping their way along the wall, trying not to make a sound. Then, around the corner, gliding noiselessly, came dementors, ten or more of them, visible because they were of a denser darkness than their surroundings, with their black cloaks and their scabbed and rotting hands. They could sense the fear in their vicinity. Estella was sure of it. They seemed to be moving more quickly, taking those dragging, rattling breaths she detested, tasting despair on the air, and closing in.