The sound of the incantation rippled across the open grounds.
In an instant, the entire castle came alive.
Along the towering outer walls, the stone guardians that had long been regarded as mere decorations, coated in centuries of dust, began to tremble violently.
Dust and fragments rained down as their rigid bodies let out grating, grinding sounds of stone against stone. One after another, they tore themselves free from battlements, niches, and flying buttresses, and leapt heavily down onto the open ground before the castle.
Under Professor McGonagall's command, these warriors formed into strict ranks, marching with uniform, thunderous steps that made the earth tremble slightly, like an ancient legion advancing with unwavering resolve toward the boundaries of the school.
"Professor McGonagall!" Snape called out, stopping her as she was wholly focused on directing the statues.
"What is it?" McGonagall turned around, her face alight with an inexplicable excitement. "This is it, Severus. Hogwarts is ready."
"Professor," Snape walked to her side, "have them guard the castle perimeter. We still need Voldemort and his core followers to enter the school. That is part of the plan. Besides,"
He pointed at the towering statues still in motion, "these statues can handle ordinary Death Eaters, but they absolutely cannot stop Voldemort himself. Do not waste these ancient guardians."
Hearing this, Professor McGonagall came back to her senses from that surge of fervor, realizing that sending the statue army forward prematurely ran counter to the prearranged plan of luring the enemy deep inside.
Without hesitation, she waved her wand again and spoke new commands.
The massive bodies of the marching statues halted in unison, then, heavy yet orderly, turned around and retraced their steps with rumbling footfalls, withdrawing to positions around the castle to guard key areas such as the Entrance Hall, corridors, and staircases.
"Severus," a trace of apology flickered across McGonagall's face. "It is fortunate you reminded me. Just now, I do not know why, but in my excitement, I wanted to throw all our strength onto the front line."
"That is all right, Professor," Snape nodded in understanding. "It is only human. Now, let us calmly wait for their arrival."
Time slipped by quietly in the taut silence.
Although the figures of Dumbledore and the others had not appeared before them, Snape and the rest knew that they had already merged seamlessly into Hogwarts' defensive system, waiting patiently for the right moment.
Not long after the deadline passed, beneath the white-capped peaks of the mountains surrounding Hogwarts, a dense, black mass appeared on the horizon at the far end of the grounds. Like a tide, it advanced slowly toward the castle.
Within the ranks, some figures were still masked and hooded, hiding their identities, while others seemed confident of victory and brazenly revealed their true faces, expressions still marked by cruelty and fanaticism.
Several enormous giants walked along the outer edges of the formation, casting suffocatingly vast shadows. Their faces were as cold and rough as carved stone, devoid of any expression.
The older students who had remained inside the castle to take part in the defense were now, with the professors' permission, making their way from the Great Hall to the Entrance Hall and to corridor windows overlooking the grounds.
Every young pair of eyes was fixed tightly on the scene outside, their gazes locked on the tall, thin figure in black robes at the very front of the advancing force.
Voldemort was drawing closer to the castle step by step, his pace unhurried, as if he were inspecting his own domain.
Though the distance was still great and dawn had not fully broken, the light dim, everyone could clearly see the scarlet eyes on that pale, snake-like face, coldly surveying the castle.
The dark mass continued forward, finally coming to a halt in the middle of the open lawn.
Snape's gaze swept across the crowd. He saw Lucius Malfoy, dejected and downcast, and Narcissa beside him, lips pressed tight as she gripped her husband's hand. He also saw a squat, pale, bloated figure that resembled a toad, a look of eager anticipation plastered on its face.
Among them were not only Death Eaters, but also many Ministry of Magic employees, most of whom looked pale-faced and evasive.
Neither the Death Eaters nor the other followers moved. Everyone was waiting. Everything was waiting.
Voldemort lifted his head and scanned the figures before the castle doors and behind the windows with his red eyes. His gaze passed over Snape and finally settled on Slughorn and Professor McGonagall standing beside him.
"Sir, Minerva," his voice was very soft, like a cold, hissing flame crackling quietly. "You disappoint me." He paused, then continued in that gentle tone.
"Fortunately, there is still time. You have not yet engaged in futile resistance. That is a wise choice."
"My Death Eaters and followers far outnumber you," he said, his words tinged with condescending mercy. "The advantage is on our side. Dumbledore is finished. Any clumsy attempt at resistance will be utterly useless. There is to be no more fighting.
"Anyone who resists," Voldemort's voice suddenly turned icy, "man, woman, or child, will be killed. Their families will also be executed."
"Now," he spread his pale arms wide, "come down from the castle. Hand over what you should not have taken. Hand over Dumbledore. Hand over that foolish ship.
"Kneel before me, and you will be granted mercy. Your parents, your children, your brothers and sisters will also be spared and allowed to live. You will join me in entering the new world that we shall build together..."
On the grounds and within the castle, there was still only silence.
Snape saw Voldemort gently stroke his yew wand with a finger pale and bloodless.
"Perhaps," Voldemort said softly, "you need a little help from me to cast aside that ridiculous, meaningless pride."
With that, he raised his wand sharply.
A baleful blood-red beam shrieked into the gray dawn sky.
In an instant, a bone-deep chill spread from the direction of the Black Lake. One by one, decaying figures shrouded in tattered cloaks and radiating despair swept through the air above the dark waters.
Everyone present, even at a distance, seemed to hear the shrill, greedy breathing of the Dementors. Happiness and hope were being rapidly drained from the air.
At the same time, indistinct and chaotic sounds came from the Forbidden Forest, like many beasts howling and roaring in the distance.
Voldemort tilted his head slightly and glanced toward the forest, a flicker of faint confusion passing through his pupils. He could not understand why the servants he had stationed there had not responded to his summons by appearing immediately.
Seeing this, Snape exchanged a glance with Professor McGonagall. At last, they could be certain that all the forces Voldemort could muster, all that were meant to come, were already present.
Snape took a deep breath, his eyes sweeping over the companions beside him who, though resolute, were pale-faced, their bodies trembling uncontrollably, their exhaled breaths turning to white mist in the cold air.
It was time, he thought. Time to formally launch this battle that belonged to everyone.
Snape inhaled deeply and raised the Elder Wand in his hand.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A colossal, solid giant serpent blazing with brilliant silver-white light surged forth from his wand tip.
Its form was elegant yet brimming with power. Wherever the silver light passed, the soul-chilling cold and despair melted away like ice under the sun.
Warmth, courage, and hope returned to the hearts of everyone sheltered by the Patronus' glow.
A stir ran through the Death Eaters' ranks. Some attempted to fire curses at Snape, but Voldemort raised a hand to stop them.
Voldemort narrowed his scarlet pupils with interest, his gaze moving back and forth between the silver serpent and Snape, a strange expression appearing on his face.
"A snake?" he asked. "A Patronus can be a snake?"
Snape offered him a gentle smile, but did not answer with words.
With a thought, he sent the silver-white serpent Patronus surging forward. It gave a silent roar and sped toward the dense swarm of Dementors over the Black Lake.
Where it passed, silver light blazed, and those decayed creatures of darkness were like moths thrown into a raging fire, letting out piercing shrieks as their forms scattered and dissolved.
The ascent and assault of the Patronus was like the signal for a general offensive.
In an instant, the roars of beasts from the Forbidden Forest became sharp and frenzied, mixed with a distinct sound like firecrackers magnified countless times over.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
"Whoosh! Whoosh!"
Deafening explosions and piercing whistling sounds erupted like a torrential storm from the Astronomy Tower, from the battlements, and from behind the hills flanking the castle.
Streams of scorching light and spells of every color wove together into showers of stars, raining down upon the Death Eater formation in the center of the grounds.
The stone guardians arrayed around the castle once more strode forward with heavy steps, raising their rock-hewn arms to shield teachers and students from incoming attacks.
Voldemort's followers were thrown into immediate chaos. Shouts and curses rang out as they waved their wands, casting all manner of defensive spells.
Multicolored magical barriers flashed and shattered in the air, barely holding back the combined physical and magical assault of Muggle metal wands.
The well-trained witches and wizards were relatively fortunate. Though they struggled immensely and many were sent sprawling or injured, coughing up blood, at least they survived the waves of attack.
This was, of course, also due to the deliberate restraint shown by the Hogwarts side. After all, many of those present might well be related by blood or marriage to someone among them.
The giants, however, with their thick hides and high resistance to magic, were not so lucky. Their massive bodies made perfect targets.
Ordinary spells might have limited effect on them, but the shells and bullets fired from Muggle weapons, carrying tremendous kinetic energy, mercilessly tore through their tough skin.
Bloody blossoms exploded across the giants' bodies as they let out agonized howls.
Their huge forms staggered and then crashed down like collapsing mountains, not only losing their fighting capability but also crushing Death Eaters who could not dodge in time, creating even greater chaos.
Witnessing this, Voldemort flew into a rage. His perfect, oppressive entrance and advantage were utterly shattered.
Murder flared in his eyes. He no longer cared for composure or recruitment. He raised his wand at once and fired deadly green beams toward the teachers and students before the castle.
Yet on the chaotic battlefield, there were always unexpected "coincidences."
Chunks of stone blasted free by shells, whistling through the air, massive shields hurled by stone guardians and inscribed with ancient protective runes, always appeared at just the right moment in the path of the Killing Curse, blocking those lethal attacks.
At the same time, a gentle voice rang clearly across the entire battlefield.
"Tom, I think your opponent should be me."
Immediately after, another voice followed, slightly hoarse, carrying an ancient accent and undisguised contempt.
"Rude young man. After all this time, have you still not improved at all? Still only capable of bullying children and playing these disgraceful little tricks?"
Two tall figures in exquisite robes, bearing extraordinary presence, seemed to condense out of the pale morning light and the smoke of battle itself as they quietly appeared on the open ground before the castle, standing directly in Voldemort's path.
Gasps, cheers, and cries of "Dumbledore!" and "He is alive!" rose from all around, followed immediately by another profound silence.
The eyes of both sides of the conflict were irresistibly drawn to these two wizards.
It was as if the battlefield itself had been paused. The attacks ceased. Once again, everyone was waiting.
But not everyone waited.
Snape nodded slightly to Professor Dumbledore, giving him a look of affirmation.
A long-faced Death Eater attempted to take advantage of the brief lull, slipping away from the main formation toward the castle entrance, clearly intending to sow chaos from within or search for something.
However, before he had gone more than a few steps, a rapid, precise burst of gunfire erupted from the flank, crackling sharply against the hastily raised Iron Skin Charm around him.
The glow of the shield flickered violently and dimmed. The impact forced him backward step by step until he collapsed heavily onto the ground, sitting hard as his whole body shook like a sieve.
His wand slipped from his grasp and rolled away.
From the direction near the school gates, new shouts and the sound of running footsteps erupted.
Another force had arrived. It was the shopkeepers and residents of Hogsmeade Village.
At their head was the pale-faced proprietor of the Three Broomsticks.
Madam Rosmerta led the villagers, dressed in all manner of clothing, their wands clutched tightly as they surged toward the castle with all their strength.
At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the trees shook violently as a figure burst out.
It was a tall female werewolf, a striking necklace of fangs hanging at her throat, brown fur matted with blood and mud.
Rika Lupa dragged behind her a corpse with tangled hair and beard, its flesh mangled and indistinct, while at her side slithered an emerald-green viper at least twelve feet long as she staggered across the grounds.
Behind them, more werewolves, who should not have been able to appear in daylight after the full moon, crawled out of the dark undergrowth on all fours. They let out low growls, yet, unusually, retained their sanity as they moved toward the Death Eaters' flank.
From every direction, the members of the Order of the Phoenix and the senior members of the Order of One who had been lying in ambush revealed themselves according to plan.
With wands and weapons in hand, they formed a massive encirclement, steadily closing in on Voldemort's followers, who had been stunned by the sudden assault before the castle.
Voldemort and his followers were completely surrounded.
At last, the sun broke free of the horizon, once again casting its faint light upon Hogwarts.
"Do you think you will win, Dumbledore?" Voldemort's chest heaved violently as he hissed, his red eyes wide. "Do you think my life is as fragile as yours? By the time I fall, you will have been dead long ago, dead without a trace left behind!"
"Lucius!" Voldemort suddenly turned his head toward the shaken, chaotic ranks of Death Eaters. "What are you saying?"
Lucius, singled out, shuddered violently and stumbled forward half a step. His robes were caked with dust, and his once meticulously kept blond hair clung messily to his sweat-soaked forehead.
He lifted his face, lips trembling as he tried to force a look of obedience, but it only twisted into a strange spasm.
"I..." Lucius' voice was dry and weak. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing violently, then nearly shouted, "I said... my Lord is most wise!" After that, he collapsed inward, bowing low in abject submission, not daring to lift his head again.
"Enough, Tom," Dumbledore stepped forward. "Do not frighten the poor Malfoy any further. Do you still not understand?" His blue eyes rested sadly on Voldemort. "This war has no winners."
As he spoke, he slowly advanced toward Voldemort, as if intending to draw closer.
Beside him, Grindelwald frowned slightly and shifted one step without drawing attention, lifting a hand to gently stop Dumbledore. His gray-blue eyes were filled with caution and disapproval.
Dumbledore glanced at Grindelwald and let out a soft sigh, but he stopped nonetheless.
"Tom," he continued, "I advise you to stop and think carefully about what you have done. Think about the lives lost because of you, the families destroyed. Try... to feel some remorse."
"What do you mean by that?!" Voldemort's pupils contracted into two terrifying slits. The skin around his eyes blanched as an ominous premonition seized him.
"Severus," Dumbledore did not answer him directly, instead turning toward the crowd. "I think it would be more appropriate for you to explain this to Tom."
Snape stepped slowly out from the crowd, walking until he stood beside Dumbledore and Grindelwald, facing Voldemort directly.
All eyes fell upon him.
"Tom," Snape looked at Voldemort coldly, "to be honest, I personally have no desire to give you any chance at all. But..."
He turned his head slightly, glancing at Dumbledore before continuing, "Professor Dumbledore promised me that if I agreed to this plan, he would 'understand' everything I have done during this period. Even if, in his view, my actions may have been somewhat... unconventional, their essence was to help him, help everyone, help Hogwarts."
He shook his head helplessly and muttered under his breath, his voice just loud enough for those nearby to hear, "Tsk. Such a stubborn old man..."
"What nonsense are you spouting?" Voldemort's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Oh, very well." Snape shrugged indifferently, as if giving up on arguing.
But when he spoke again, the sound that emerged was a low, hoarse hissing that made one's scalp crawl.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Snape said clearly in Parseltongue, "this is your last chance, your only chance. Be brave, and try to feel some remorse."
He paused, watching the change in Voldemort's expression, then continued in Parseltongue with a calm that was almost cruel.
"So, Tom, let me tell you this. It is useless. The Horcruxes are gone. Do you know that?"
"Little Riddle's diary, Gaunt's ring, Slytherin's locket..."
With every word he uttered, Voldemort's face grew a shade paler, his body swaying almost imperceptibly. "Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's diadem, Peverell's Cloak of Invisibility. All of them are gone. They have been found and completely destroyed."
"You... you..." Voldemort hissed in Parseltongue as well. His hand gripping the wand trembled violently, his narrow chest heaving as if he could not breathe.
Only a short time ago, he had personally defeated Dumbledore, occupied Hogwarts, seized control of the Ministry of Magic. The scales of victory had already tipped entirely in his favor.
To conquer death, he had made so many secret and meticulous preparations. How could they know? How was it possible?
No. I still have a chance. A frantic voice screamed in his mind. As long as I can leave this place, as long as I can-
Voldemort forcibly suppressed the turmoil in his blood, grasping desperately at one last attempt.
"Severus? My child..." he continued in Parseltongue, his voice twisted with temptation.
"Not only immortality. You can join my side. I will grant you power and status beyond anything you have known. We should stand together and rule this world. Parseltongue. We are of the same kind."
"Stop spouting that nauseating nonsense, Tom," Snape cut him off impatiently. "You're not naive enough to think that you and I are the same, are you?"
He no longer looked at Voldemort's contorted expression, turning instead to Dumbledore.
"Professor, I have done everything that needed doing, everything that could be done. The outcome is clear. Tom has his own 'convictions.' It seems there is no saving him."
With that, Snape stepped forward. Under countless gazes, his expression calm, he walked toward the castle steps.
At that moment, the blazing sun burst forth with golden-red light, illuminating both Snape's departing back and Voldemort's twisted face at the same time.
Voldemort's face instantly flushed a furious red.
Snape heard Voldemort's shrill scream.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Almost at the same instant-
"Bang, bang, bang!"
"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!"
Explosions and the shriek of colliding spells erupted together behind Snape.
He did not turn his head. He did not even quicken his pace.
He maintained his original rhythm, walking step by step up the stone stairs.
Only when he reached the final step, only when the cries and blasts behind him gradually subsided and faded, did he turn around in the gentle morning breeze.
The sunlight was dazzling and warm.
Voldemort was staggering backward, arms spread unnaturally wide, the narrow pupils in his blood-red eyes rolling upward.
His body was riddled with wounds. He collapsed onto the ground like a torn sack of rags.
His corpse lay limp and twitching, his pale hand empty, his snake-like face hollow and vacant.
Voldemort was dead, dead like a mortal.
For an instant, a shuddering silence fell as people froze in stunned disbelief.
Then, an overwhelming roar erupted around them. Shouts, cheers, and cries thundered skyward.
The sun rose slowly above Hogwarts.
Snape stood there, no longer looking at that small, ugly shell of a body, no longer looking at the Death Eaters and Ministry officials who had been forced back and disarmed.
His gaze passed over the cheering crowd, settling on the familiar, living faces, on the figures rushing toward him with tears streaming down their faces...