fantasy novels Chapter 308 Snape's Hell and Heaven
Chapter 308 Snape's Hell and Heaven
Chapter 308 Snape's Hell and Heaven (5.6K) (2/2)
Snape's deep voice carried a resolute tone.
A dazzling, solid silver light erupted from the tip of his staff, rapidly coalescing in mid-air—an elegant yet powerful silver doe. It raised its head, silver light swirling beneath its hooves, and with a light leap, landed precisely beside the silver raven struggling to drive away the Dementors!
The next moment, the raven and the doe, two completely different guardian deities, seemed to have reached an unspoken understanding.
They moved side by side, merging and intertwining the silver light they emitted, forming a larger, more dazzling, and warmer silver tide!
This combined power was no longer the piecemeal driving force it had been before, but transformed into an unstoppable silver torrent that swept towards the direction where the Dementors were most concentrated!
"hiss--!"
Faced with this sudden, several-fold increase in the intensity of the frontal attack, the Dementors let out even sharper, more terrifying, silent shrieks.
The cold and despair that sustained them melted away like snow under the sun before this merged guardian. Unable to maintain their tight encirclement, they retreated in panic, colliding with each other. Their black cloaks, like dark clouds scattered by a gale, instantly became tattered.
A passageway, illuminated by warm silver light, leading to the center of the open space, was forcibly carved out almost in an instant!
Snape kept his wand steady, his eyes fixed on the silver light that was propelling him forward, and he moved quickly toward the spot where Harry had fallen.
Lynch was finally able to relax his precise control over the Guardian Angel. The giant raven let out a silent, clear cry, and together with the doe, like two victorious knights, completely drove the remaining Dementors into the distant darkness.
The silver light had not completely dissipated, and the air still held the cold embers of the Dementors' retreat and the warm fluctuations of the Guardians.
Snape strode toward where Harry had fallen.
Just then, Lynch, who was standing a little further away, made a very subtle gesture with his fingers hidden on the other side, and then his fingers moved slightly in Harry's direction.
The next moment, the thin layer of black mist that had been covering Harry's body to shield him from the Dementors seemed to receive a silent command, and receded rapidly like a tide, silently entering Harry's body without leaving any trace.
Snape's entire attention was focused on the small, limp figure lying on the ground, and he did not notice the subtle magical change.
His heart was filled with a cold anxiety and a sense of foreboding. His steps were quick and heavy, and his black robe fluttered behind him.
He rushed to Harry's side, and the first thing he saw was Harry's bloodless face, as pale as marble in the Hogwarts cellars.
Those emerald green eyes, so much like Lily's, always sparkling with either stubbornness or confusion, were now tightly closed.
The skin his fingertips touched was an unnatural, bone-deep cold, as if the warmth of life had been completely drained away.
He moved his fingers more urgently, searching for the pulse in his carotid artery.
No.
There was no trace of a pulse.
His chest did not rise or fall at all.
Time seemed to freeze and shatter at that moment.
"No----"
A very faint, almost incoherent syllable escaped from Snape's pale lips.
He was struck as if by an invisible giant hammer; his tall body swayed violently, and he involuntarily knelt on one knee, splashing up tiny specks of mud.
His hand, which wasn't holding a wand, pressed futilely and even harder against Harry's cold neck, as if trying to forcefully awaken the dormant flame of life with his own strength.
The wand in his other hand slipped from his suddenly weakened fingers with a "thud" and fell onto the grass, the light at the tip of the wand going out completely.
"No—impossible—" he repeated, his voice dry and hoarse, carrying a quality he himself was unaware of.
A childlike helplessness and despair.
His gaze was fixed on Harry's face, as if he wanted to pour his own life into it.
Everything around him—the sounds of the wind in the forest, the faint commotion in the distance, even the possible presence of Lin Qi beside him—disappeared from his perception.
The world has shrunk to nothing but this pale, still face, a symbol of ultimate defeat.
Lily————
The name exploded in his mind, carrying an unbearable weight.
A woman with red hair and green eyes glances back in my memory, her smile warm, and then—a green light, and an eternal farewell.
He promised.
He had sworn an oath, with everything he had, with all the regret and loyalty of the rest of his life, to Dumbledore to protect her son, to protect the only bloodline she left in the world.
But now————
He failed.
Just like that Halloween night, he arrived too late to change anything.
He failed to protect Lily.
Now, even her son—
A heart-wrenching pain, enough to destroy all his rationality and indifference, swept away all the defenses he had carefully built over the years like a flood breaking through a dam.
He felt as if his heart had been ripped out, leaving only a vast, cold, dark void filled with the howling winds of despair.
He lost the strength to support his body, and his other leg also collapsed to his knees. He hunched over next to Harry, his wide black robes falling like dying wings.
He didn't wail, but the silent tremor that spread from the depths of his soul was more suffocating than any hysteria.
His eyes were tightly closed, his forehead almost touching the cold ground, his shoulders twitching uncontrollably, and every breath he took was filled with the difficulty and pain of being on the verge of death.
More than a decade of forbearance, the infamy he bore, and the espionage career that walked on the edge of a knife—all of it seemed to lose its meaning at this moment.
The ultimate goal he was protecting was extinguished before his very eyes.
Severus Snape was completely devastated.
On the other side, Lin Qi controlled his raven guardian spirit to drive the Dementors away until they completely disappeared into the night. Then, the huge silver raven turned into starlight and dissipated in the air.
He didn't immediately check on Harry's situation, but instead walked steadily to Lupin the werewolf's side.
The werewolf remained unconscious, its massive body rising and falling slightly with its remaining breath, but its ferocious aura had been temporarily suppressed by the Dementor and its severe injuries. Lin Qi expressionlessly raised his arm, without chanting a spell, but with an extremely slight flick of his wrist—"clang!"
Several black iron chains, as thick as an infant's arm and gleaming with a cold metallic luster, appeared out of thin air. Like living venomous snakes, they nimbly and precisely wrapped around the werewolf's limbs, torso, and neck. The other ends of the chains were driven deep into the solid ground around them, firmly imprisoning the werewolf in place and ensuring that even the werewolf's immense strength after awakening would be difficult to break free from.
Throughout the entire process, Lynch kept his eyes glued to Snape out of the corner of his eye.
He watched Snape rush over, watched Snape examine the body urgently, watched Snape's body go from eager to stiff, and then to that uncontrollable, violent trembling that represented the collapse of his beliefs.
Just as Snape's other leg gave way and he collapsed to his knees, his wand slipped from his hand, and he was completely consumed by despair, Lynch breathed a sigh of relief.
It became.
This most difficult and crucial step has finally been completed as planned.
He ignored the werewolf who was firmly chained up, turned around, and walked with his still steady steps toward the black figure kneeling beside Harry, as if it had lost all support.
Lynch stopped beside Snape, lowered his eyes, and looked at the man who was usually gloomy, mean, and always wrapped in indifference, but at this moment he was as vulnerable as a stray dog lost in the rain.
He stared at him silently for a few seconds, then, in a tone tinged with doubt but sounding exceptionally cruel to Snape, asked, "Severus, is Harry alright?"
These words, though spoken softly, were like a cold file, scraping harshly against Snape's unsuspecting, bloodied nerves.
Lynch's question was like a spark that fell into Snape's abyss of consciousness, which was completely soaked in despair and pain and on the verge of freezing.
There was a few seconds of deathly silence at first.
Snape's hunched back remained stiff, as if he hadn't heard anything, or rather, no external sound could penetrate that thick, icy shell called "failure."
But then, beneath that icy shell, something began to violently churn and collide.
Lynch's voice, along with his promise not long ago, "I assure you, I will ensure Harry's ultimate safety," exploded in his chaotic mind like a delayed thunderclap!
Guarantee — Safety — Ultimate Safety
These words now transformed into the most vicious mockery, forming a bloody and unbearable contrast with the cold, lifeless body before them.
Trust—just moments before, he had pathetically and self-deceivingly placed a sliver of hope in this man's promise!
He thought Lin Qi's strength was enough to turn the tide, and he thought that there was a reliable support behind that cold certainty!
madness!
How foolish!
The anger of being deceived, the despair of collapsing faith, the contempt for his own gullibility, and the immense grief of losing Lily's only bloodline—all these emotions, like boiling lava, instantly shattered his last remaining semblance of composure.
"you----"
A hoarse, monosyllable that seemed to be squeezed out of a torn throat.
Snape jerked his head up!
Those dark eyes were now bloodshot, filled with an almost insane pain and violence, fixed on Lin Qi's face, which showed a slight expression of doubt and concern.
His originally pale face flushed an unnatural red due to extreme emotions.
The next moment, he suddenly stood up with incredible speed, completely out of character for his current state!
His knees kicked up grass clippings and dirt as his tall figure, accompanied by a sharp gust of wind, lunged at Lin Qi!
"you!!!"
With a roar like that of a wounded beast, filled with all pain and rage, Snape's hands shot out and grabbed Lynch's suit collar tightly. The immense force twisted and deformed the fabric, almost lifting Lynch off the ground!
His black hair fell messily across his forehead, unable to conceal his eyes burning with hellfire. He growled at Lin Qi closely, each word sharp and deliberate, his spittle almost splattering the other's face: "You promised! Lin Qi! You promised me his safety!!!"
The roar exhausted most of his strength, and the arm gripping Lin Qi's collar trembled violently from the excessive force, as if it would shatter along with him at any moment.
Lynch did not resist Snape's storm-like outburst and the hands gripping his collar.
His hands obediently rested at his sides, striking a harmless yet slightly confused pose. His brow furrowed as he looked at the frantic Snape, his tone maintaining that irritating calm: "Calm down, Severus. What are you doing?"
"He's dead!!!" Snape interrupted him with a roar, his voice filled with anguish, before he could finish. "Did you see that?! He's dead! Your promise—was a damn joke!"
Just as Snape's roar echoed through the woods, Lynch's right hand, held at his side, flicked outwards with an extremely slight, seemingly casual motion.
A gentle yet immense and irresistible force instantly acted upon Snape.
It didn't hurt him; it simply dismantled his grip on Lynch's collar with precision, like parting flowing water, and gently, yet undeniably, pushed him away from Lynch.
Snape stumbled back a few steps before collapsing to the ground, his wand still lying forlornly in the distant grass.
He was breathing heavily, his bloodshot eyes staring intently at Lin Qi, as if he wanted to devour him alive.
Ignoring Snape's murderous glare, Lynch didn't bother to straighten his rumpled collar and immediately took a half step forward, crouching down beside Harry.
He stretched out his finger and placed it on Harry's neck, feeling it carefully for a while.
Then he reached into Harry's robes and fumbled for the Stone Tower Merchant Guild emblem. The instant his hand touched the emblem, a faint light flashed, and the thin black aura that had been contained within Harry's body seemed to receive a final command, completely and utterly retreating into the emblem, no longer emitting any shielding aura.
Then Lynch took the badge out of Harry's pocket.
Only after completing this step did he place his fingers on Harry's neck and carefully feel for a while.
"There's still a faint pulse and a soul fluctuation," he said in a low voice, as if confirming something.
Then, clutching the badge, he turned to Snape, still slumped on the ground, consumed by despair and rage, staring intently at him, and said quickly and clearly, "Harry is alive. The protective magic I set up beforehand saved his life at the last moment, stopping the Dementors' deadly drain. But—"
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He abruptly changed the subject, his gaze sweeping sharply over Snape, his tone urgent: "His soul is severely damaged, and his body is extremely weak. If you continue to stand there watching without helping, I can't guarantee the situation won't worsen."
These words struck Snape like a bolt of lightning.
"What—?" he uttered hoarsely, his face instantly replaced by an extreme, incredulous bewilderment with rage and despair.
He practically scrambled to his feet and stumbled, almost crawling, to Harry's side. He reached out his trembling hand, wanting to confirm his presence, yet too afraid to touch him.
Then, he saw it.
A faint trace of color did indeed return to Harry's previously deathly pale face.
More importantly, his thin chest was rising and falling slightly in a slow but real rhythm!
Although the person did not wake up, it was indeed a sign of life!
An immense, euphoric joy, like a tsunami, overwhelmed Snape's defenses, leaving him momentarily dizzy.
He jerked his head around, frantically groping in the grass around him like a drowning man searching for driftwood, muttering unconsciously, "Wand—my wand—"
Just then, a hand reached out in front of him, with distinct knuckles, firmly gripping the shaft of his wand.
Snape looked up abruptly.
It's Lynch.
He crouched down on the other side of Harry, calmly watching him as he handed the wand back to him.
Snape almost violently snatched his wand from his hand, his fingertips turning slightly white with excitement.
He no longer glanced at Lynch; all his attention was focused on Harry. He swiftly waved his wand, chanting complex and lengthy diagnostic and soothing spells, a soft light enveloping Harry's cold body.
At the same time, with his other hand, he quickly pulled out several small potion bottles from the inner pocket of his black robe, bit off the stoppers with his teeth, and prepared to perform emergency treatment.
Looking at Snape on the ground, who had instantly entered a state of focused treatment as if the collapse had never happened, Lynch slowly stood up.
He lowered his head and calmly smoothed out the wrinkles on his collar that Snape had tugged at his chest.
Then, he turned to look in the other direction.
Under the bright moonlight, Scrimgeour appeared on the low hill with a group of Aurors.
While Lynch and Snape were dealing with the werewolf and Dementor crisis in the woods outside the village, Dumbledore was walking on the seemingly deserted streets of Hogsmeade.
His tall figure cast a long shadow under the cold moonlight and sparse gas streetlights.
He didn't run; his steps were steady yet swift. His sharp, azure eyes were lowered, focused intently on the silver footprints that shimmered clearly only in his magical vision.
The rat's footprints meandered along the base of the wall and through narrow alleys, making full use of every shadow and crevice, revealing the fugitive's deep-seated caution and instinctive mastery of concealment.
However, Hogsmeade is not truly desolate.
Although the streets were deserted, and even the usually bustling Three Broomsticks and Hog's Head pubs were closed and dimly lit, Dumbledore keenly sensed a silent commotion brewing behind the closed doors and windows.
The continuous loud noises tonight—the howls of werewolves, sounds resembling explosions, and the hurried movements of the Aurors—had already awakened the sleeping villagers.
He could feel tense, curious, and even fearful gazes projecting silently onto him from the gaps in the heavy velvet curtains and from behind the slightly lifted slats of the blinds, following his every step.
This is an almost instinctive habit developed during wartime—when unknown dangers arise, to hide and remain silent, observing from a safe, concealed place rather than rashly exposing oneself.
A sense of oppressive tension permeated the air, as if the entire village was holding its breath.
Dumbledore was fully aware of this.
He didn't stop to make eye contact with anyone, nor did he try to comfort them.
At this moment, any unnecessary action could alert the enemy or cause unnecessary panic.
He had only one goal—the ever-extending silver trail ahead that belonged to Peter the Pettigrew.
His gaze would occasionally sweep quickly over the seemingly quiet houses on both sides of the street, and he understood.
The news must have spread like wildfire among the villagers—about the fugitive, the werewolves, and the Ministry of Magic's massive mobilization.
Tomorrow, the Daily Prophet will be celebrating, while tonight, Hogsmeade will spend its time in silent observation and unease.
These thoughts flashed through his mind but did not affect his focus on the pursuit.
The footprints did not point to more remote and desolate places, but instead meandered through the village, eventually leading clearly to the Joko's joke shop, located on one side of the main street, which was already closed and dark.
The shop itself was locked and completely dark.
But the tiny claw marks didn't stop at the main entrance; instead, they cleverly turned into a narrow gap on the side of the shop, just wide enough for one person to pass through, where a few discarded packaging boxes were piled up.
At the end of the crevice was a back door that looked unremarkable but was protected by a strong locking spell and a slight confusion spell.
That's the entrance to the joke shop's warehouse.