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Chapter Forty-Two

Farid knew he was ready for this fight - he gloried in it, in fact. Once this evil thing had been destroyed, Farid would be able to get on with his life; he liked his life now, his friends, his Master. Finally, Farid had a future, something he would never have believed as a small child. All those years when he had merely existed, had been too afraid to think of what might come; now he had so much, so many riches and this vile monster was all that stood in his way.

Farid was not naïve enough to think that Voldemort was responsible for all the evil in the world. But he had certainly played his part in the things that had happened to Farid; when he had made the decision to kill James and Lily Potter, he had condemned their son to years of torment and abuse.

Voldemort seemed to loom over him, but that did not bother Farid, he was used to people being taller than him. The Dark Lord believed that he had an advantage because he thought that he could not be killed. He had no idea, Farid knew, that his precious horcruxes had already been destroyed. There was just one left: the snake; and here it came, faithfully following its master. Farid might have felt sorry for it had he not been able to see the evil radiating from every pore of the scaly patterned skin.

He smiled.

Voldemort was about to say something he opened his mouth to speak, but Farid petrified him. He knew he only had seconds before his opponent released himself, but that was enough; it was more than enough for what he wanted to do.

“Come to me, sssnake,” he said. He knew now that he was speaking a different language - he was speaking parseltongue. Professor Lupin had told him this. The first time that he had used it was when he had banished Master’s brand; he hadn’t known then what it was, but he was so much more fluent now in the strange language. Professor Lupin had told him to keep this talent to himself, to tell no one that did not already know; he had said that the general population mistrusted parselmouths. Sure enough, he heard the gasps that emanated from many of the on-lookers gathered around him when he spoke.

But Professor Lupin had told Farid that it was fine to be a parselmouth. That it was a tool like anything else, that it was not the ability itself which was evil, but the intent with which it was used, and Farid trusted his opinion.

He had grown ever closer to Professor Lupin in recent months, well, since the rape at least. Of the adults in his life, apart from Master of course, “Remus,” as the professor kept insisting Farid address him, was the one he liked best.

He didn’t quite trust Albus Greybeard; Farid believed that the old one was very fond of him, but also viewed him as a tool. He didn’t blame him for this, but he didn’t have to like it either. Sirius Black he liked too, but he thought the man was more immature than Farid or any of his friends and therefore could not always be trusted either.

But Remus was similar to Master; he truly seemed to like Farid, just the way he was, and he seemed also to have Farid’s best interests at heart, to want to prepare him for battle and ensure that he survived it intact. So together they had practiced parseltongue; Lupin had caught a number of little grass snakes near the Forbidden Forest and kept them in a tank in his rooms, and Farid had held them and talked to them and petted them. He had grown quite fond of them in fact, but had decided not to take them home, because he was worried about how Tariq might react.

But now he called the big snake forward - the one who had had its soul tainted, bound to the dark one.

The snake was obeying him.

“You are a ssspeaker of the tongue?” it said.

“Husssh,” Farid answered, “Do you wisssh to be free of your thraldom or do you wisssh to ssserve the one who isss dark?”

“Pleassse sssir, freedom sssir,” the snake replied eagerly.

Farid’s smile widened; he did not want to have to kill the creature unless he had no other choice. After all, no-one knew better that he how it felt to be enslaved.

So he said the words that Remus had taught him, but in parseltongue, so that no one but the snake and Voldemort could understand him.

“I command you, dark ssspirit to releassse the ssserpent. I command you to depart her sssoul. I demand that sssshe be releasssed from the thrall of evil, thisss I order in the name of thossse who have died un-avenged.”

The snake stiffened and then rose up, so that its upper body stood tall, free of the ground, swaying a little with the effort of holding itself erect.

A small black cloud seemed to ooze from its skin and float in the air above its head.

“Dissolvo,” he whispered and the evil essence just vanished away like morning dew. The snake stiffened and then collapsed to the ground. It was unconscious he knew, but otherwise unharmed.

“STOP!” Voldemort had shouted.

Farid smiled again; he had known that the Dark Lord would not be held long by the Petrificus spell, but he had wanted the other wizard to be aware of what was happening when Farid destroyed the final Horcrux. Not that the other wizard knew that the others had been destroyed; it was Farid’s task to tell him and he knew he was really going to enjoy himself now.

“Oh dear, Woldemort,” he said. “Have I broken zomezing? Oh silly me, zat was your last Horcrux too!”

Farid’s smirk took on a touch of wickedness as he saw the dawning horror in his opponent’s eyes.

But his face grew serious again as he said, “And now it is time to keel dyou! But I zink zat no one else should be hurt because of you and me; zis is between us, I zink.”


And, all at once, Farid and Voldemort were sealed in a gigantic bubble. It was almost completely clear but the barrier that was formed shimmered slightly and caught the light; it was very much like the barrier that Farid had conjured the night that they had been attacked by werewolves. It rose high into the air to float high above them in the Great Hall, close to the enchanted ceiling which showed nothing now other than a clear blue sky, which was darkening as the evening advanced, and a large white bird that continued to circle the school protectively.

Severus had gasped along with the rest of the occupants of the Great Hall when Farid spoke to Nagini in Parseltongue. He had forgotten that Black had told him about his slave being a parselmouth. In his defence, it had been when he had first discovered the strength of the bond and he had been preoccupied with trying to destroy overcome its strictures. But hearing it now, hearing Farid use it like he did, wielding it like a tool against the snake and her twisted owner sent shivers down Severus’ spine. He had never enquired too closely into what Farid had been learning with Remus - he trusted the man implicitly - but he wondered what other surprises might emerge as the battle continued.

Then the sudden appearance of the bubble stunned them all, even Severus who had seen something like it before. Several of the Death Eaters rushed towards it in a useless attempt to release their master and it was then that the battle truly began.

The older students were fighting some of the Death Eaters; Seamus and Draco had overpowered one of them, and Ron had laid out another by the simple expedient of hitting him very hard with one of his iron-like fists.

Dumbledore was battling away, back to back with Minerva, trying to defend a number of terrified first years, who were huddled together peering out at the confrontation with large, frightened eyes. Flitwick and Remus were in another part of the room firing off curses and Sirius Black was surrounded by a number of figures, dressed in black, eyes dancing as he roundly cursed them all.

Even Severus had taken a few out of the battle, one of whom he recognised as Avery, whom he felt was owed a bit of pain from the end of Severus’ wand and another was Rudolphus Lestrange, who truly was vicious and without whom the world was undoubtedly a better place.

But then he heard something, and he turned quickly. Behind him was a Death Eater - Thaddeus Nott. He had Hermione in a neck lock; his arm was wrapped tightly around her throat. She was struggling, but he squeezed hard and all at once she stayed still.

“He won’t win you know, your little fuck toy,” he snarled gesturing with his head in Farid’s direction. “Put down your wand or I’ll break the mudblood’s neck.” Hermione obviously could not speak as Nott had his arm so tightly around her windpipe, she was struggling to breathe and Nott was dragging her ever closer; she seemed to be trying to signal something with her eyes, but Severus was taking no chances, not with Hermione’s safety. Slowly, carefully he lay down his wand.

Nott released his hold a bit, but didn’t seem prepared to release the girl completely.

Nott sneered at him, “Not so brave now are you, you fucking traitor? Do you know there was a lot of competition as to who was to get you? But I won. I won because thanks to you, you bastard, my Theo,” his jaw was trembling with barely suppressed emotion, “my son, my baby, killed himself. My beautiful child dead, all thanks to you and your little whore!”

Severus looked at him; he met the other man’s eyes steadily, without flinching. “I am sorry for your loss, Thaddeus,” he said, “but your son made his own choices when he raped and abused Farid.”

Thaddeus was crying now, openly sobbing. “That boy has been fucked by countless men,” he sobbed, “why should my son be the one to pay? The slut’s like an old broom, everyone’s ridden him!”

Severus was disgusted; no wonder Theodore had been the way he was if this was his father’s attitude. The man had his arm extended towards Severus, wand pointed at his heart. His hand was shaking badly.

“You’re going to suffer now, Snape,” he hissed. “You are going to die slowly and watch while the Dark Lord puts your little pussy down.”

Then several things happened all at once.

Hermione elbowed Nott in the stomach, whilst at the same time someone fired a stunning spell that was so powerful, had so much force behind it, that it sent Nott flying backwards into the wall behind them; they all heard his spine snap with a sickening crack. There was an explosion from the bubble and the other Death Eaters all fell to the ground simultaneously, unconscious. But Severus felt a sharp pain, blood was pouring from his stomach; he was bleeding.

Nott had cast a spell of his own before he died: sectumsempra.

Severus fell to his knees, he suddenly felt really cold. Everything else seemed so far away, so distant.

He could hear Hermione’s scream, he thought she shouted his name.

Ron shouted too - he was much closer than Hermione. “Oh Merlin! Professor Snape!” he yelled.

His knees wouldn’t hold him and he slumped down to his side, everything seemed to be going dark around the edges. Severus knew that the curse was usually fatal; he was going to die, and it was his own spell, one that he had invented in youthful arrogance and had felt so stupidly proud of that was going to kill him.

He had to see his Farid though, before he died; he dragged his head round to look at the combat that was currently occupying his lover, it felt so heavy, so hard to move but he managed, he had to. Both the battling wizards were still encased inside the bubble of magic that Farid had created; he could see the lights from the spells that they were firing at each other.

Farid was magnificent, he was dancing in the air, in the battleground that he had created, matching Voldemort hex for hex, curse for curse.

‘I did that,’ Severus said to himself proudly, ‘I helped him become a warrior; I helped him become a man.’

Hermione had reached him, she was crying all over him; she had ripped off her robe and seemed to be pressing it to his wounds.

‘Silly girl,’ he mused, ‘doesn’t she know it’s already too late for me?’

He thought back to the servile child that Farid had been only a few short months ago and how far he had come towards manhood, towards independence and he smiled.

“My clever, darling boy.” He could barely see through his tears now, he wanted to hold Farid in his arms, kiss him passionately just one more time. He had no doubt that Farid would win, but he didn’t think that he would be there to see it.

“Live for me, little one!” he whispered.

He could hear Hermione weeping, she was leaning on his chest with all her weight but she sounded far away, like she was at the end of a very long tunnel. “Don’t you die on me you old bastard,” she was shouting. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

Severus almost laughed at what Farid would say if he heard staid, sensible Hermione, who never, ever swore, using such language.

“I love you my darling,” barely even a whisper now, perhaps just a shadow of one? “Be free Farid my dearest, be free.”

He opened his hand and, all at once, he could see the bond, the shining golden chain that bound them. It didn’t look any different to Severus to the way it had been all those months ago when Farid had first shown it to him. But it felt different.

And as he watched, as he said those words over and over, too quietly to be heard by human ears, the bond began to dissolve, dissipate. The links on the chain, slowly started to unravel, to soften and to become wispy, like clouds on a summer day, faster and faster as Severus continued his mantra, “be free, my love, be free,” until all at once it was gone. The bond that had held them together for so many months had simply melted away.

Severus’ eyes felt so heavy; it was too much effort to hold them open any more, so finally he let them close.

He heard Hermione scream, “NNNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

But he knew he was smiling; imprinted on his eyelids was a picture of a wonderful hero, of a final battle and a glorious boy, fulfilling his destiny.

Finally the bond was gone, the connection dissolved, his hand was empty at last and, until that moment, Severus hadn’t realised how full it had been before.