Unexpected Fate (Severus Snape x Reader)

𝟕𝟔 - 𝓗𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝓘𝓼 𝓪 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓹𝓸𝓷

"They're coming back!"

The words rang out through the Great Hall, sharp and urgent, shattering the silence like glass.

Every head snapped toward the windows, bodies pressing against the cold stone as we peered outside.

But this—this was no victory march, no triumphant return.

This looked like a funeral procession.

A hush fell over the hall, thick with uncertainty, with dread, with the kind of fear that wrapped itself around the ribs and squeezed.

And then, all at once, we moved.

As if pulled by the same invisible force, we surged forward, rushing through the corridors, down the staircases, spilling into the courtyard, our footsteps pounding against the stone.

The scene before us stole the breath from my lungs.

Hagrid.

He was being dragged forward like a captured beast, thick ropes binding his massive frame as he stumbled beneath their pull. His face was streaked with dirt and tears, twisted with grief.

And in his arms—

No.

No, no, no.

A strangled gasp broke from Ginny's lips.

"Neville," she choked, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Neville—who is it?"

Neville couldn't speak. His throat worked, his hands clenched at his sides, but no sound came.

And then—

A voice, high and cold and triumphant, rang through the night.

"Harry Potter is dead!"

The world stopped.

Voldemort's voice echoed, stretching across the courtyard, filling every crevice of the castle, settling into our bones like ice.

Ginny moved first. A scream tore from her throat, raw, broken, as she lunged forward, her entire body shaking with denial.

Voldemort barely lifted his wand. "Silence."

A single pulse of magic slammed into her chest, sending her staggering back. She gasped, clutching at her ribs, but she did not fall.

"Stupid girl," Voldemort sneered, his red eyes burning with amusement. "Harry Potter is dead. From this day forth, you put your faith in me."

Silence.

Suffocating, choking silence.

I couldn't move.

I couldn't think.

This wasn't happening.

This couldn't be happening.

I looked to the others, searching, hoping—anything to tell me I had misheard, that this was some kind of nightmare I would wake from.

But their faces told me everything.

Hermione's hand was clamped over her mouth, her eyes wide and glistening. Ron was shaking his head, over and over, like if he just kept denying it, it would somehow make it untrue. The others were frozen in place, their expressions carved from grief and horror.

And Voldemort—

Voldemort was smiling.

Slowly, he turned to his Death Eaters, spreading his arms as though welcoming applause.

"Harry Potter is dead!"

His voice rose, triumphant, as he flung his arms skyward.

A cheer erupted.