Remus and Severus appeared first at Hogsmede the nearest point to the school one could apparate, before using differing means to reach the castle proper.
Severus simply flying using a technique taught to him by the dark lord, while Remus rode a broom through the air.
Though the castle was sleeping, the walls themselves seemed to stiffen around the two men— the old stones sensing something violent clinging to them.
Blood.
Magic.
Death.
Snape adjusted his robes with the calm efficiency of habit, as if straightening cloth could erase the smell of Carrow blood drying along the hem.
Remus, still bruised and partially limping from Snape's earlier "rescue," ran a trembling hand through his hair.
"You look awful," Snape muttered without looking at him.
"You… smell awful," Remus replied softly.
"sigh."
the words were not mean as an insult but due to his default tone of voice it was taken as such, only to receive a biting response in return for his 'concern'.
The front doors opened with the slightest creak.
Professor McGonagall stood inside, dressing gown pulled over tartan night robes, face pinched in tired fury.
"there you two are, i've been looking for you for hours! You two were scheduled to patrol the corridors, where the devil did you go? Even Albus has left to go-" Her voice radiating around the two being scolded like children, but upon hearing the headmaster had left, she was cutoff.
"Then we should give our report now," Snape said curtly.
leaving the stunned professor standing there watching as Severus and Remus retreated from her ascending the castle to the Headmasters office, upon entering moments later Dumbledore arrived stepping through the furthest back door leading to his personal chamber, his expression unreadable, his robes still carrying the faint scent of the charred clearing.
"Severus. Remus." His eyes swept over them. "You look… changed."
Snape's jaw twitched. "I imagine corpses have that effect on an evening."
McGonagall gasped, hand flying to her mouth. "Corpses—who—?"
Remus answered before Snape could sharpen it further.
"Amycus and Alecto Carrow. Peter Pettigrew." He exhaled. "And Bellatrix Lestrange are no longer a threat."
Dumbledore froze.
A pause as deep as a cavern opened between them.
Then—
"You killed them?"
Snape's tone was almost bored. "Yes. We had no choice. It was either them or it would be us."
"Why?" Dumbledore demanded, voice still gentle—but lined with something taut, fraying.
Remus and Snape exchanged a glance.
Snape answered first. "Albus. This wasnt the first time they had infiltrated the castle, if we let them live the students would come to harm, and when confronted-."
Remus followed. "they were ready to kill us, if we tried to capture them, you'd be staring down one or more of our corpses instead."
Dumbledore's gaze sharpened, his voice measured but edged. "I was not alerted. Neither was the Ministry. Why were we not informed before you acted?"
The question struck the hall like cold water.
Snape crossed his arms, his expression shifting into that familiar, perfected neutrality. "We had… no time, Headmaster."
Remus swallowed. "That's right. Everything happened quickly."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "Quickly? Even if they appeared on the school grounds and you gave chase, you could still send word via painting or even patronus."
Silence.
Remus's eyes darted, uneasy.
Snape remained unreadable.
The Headmaster's voice lowered. "But what troubles me most is this: You acted alone. Three highly capable wizards—without support, without backup, and without notifying anyone who could aid or contain the situation."
The two men felt the weight behind the words.
Behind that accusation.
Snape lifted his chin. "Headmaster, forgive me, but by the time we could have received assistance, we would already have been dead if we fought with non-lethal means. Choices needed to be made."
Dumbledore held his gaze. "And was that truly the only reason?"
This time the pause was intentional.
Deliberate.
Remus answered—not quite lying, not quite telling the truth. "We made the decisions we had to, Albus. No more, no less."
A quiet statement.
A restrained one.
But it held the veiled truth beneath it: We didn't want you there. We didn't want you steering this. We didn't want you controlling it.
Dumbledore heard it.
He always heard more than spoken words.
His eyes dimmed.
He dismissed McGonagall gently.
She left reluctantly, casting backward glances full of worry.
When the hall was empty, Dumbledore spoke again—much softer.
"You three have faced horrors tonight. I do not diminish that." He turned toward the dark windows overlooking the forest. "But I fear what this means."
Neither man responded.
He continued quietly.
"Lord Voldemort will rise again soon."
Remus stiffened. Snape's expression briefly cracked.
"Yes," Dumbledore murmured. "I know. The signs are too many. His old loyalists are stirring, the Mark is restless, rumours grow in the shadows."
His fingers tightened around his wand. "And when he returns… a new war will bloom."
The hall seemed to darken.
"But worse still," Dumbledore whispered, "Grindelwald has begun to move again."
Snape's head jerked. "What?"
Remus paled.
"Reports from France, Austria, and Bavaria," Dumbledore said, voice bleak. "Old networks. Old believers. He moves quietly—but he moves."
Two dark wizards rising.
Two storms converging.
The standing professors who had believed tonight to be a great win against the dark lord had their revelry stolen from them in a moment as they learned an even greater evil was rising in the background.
After getting the general overview about how the four were dealt with and Sirius after having been injured had retreated for care at St. Mungo's the two wounded to a far lesser extent were sent off to visit Madame Pomfrey to tend to their own wounds.
Meanwhile the headmaster sat back in his high chair.
His minds racing as he tried to make sense of things.
The prophecy all those years ago spoke about potter rising to defeat the dark lord, but then his mind turned to the second prophecy.
For years he had tried to make sense of it, but prophecies in themselves are vague, so vague that the mere concept of a 'birth' could be a quite literal birth of a newborn, or the birth of a new self.
This could mean there was a hidden shadowlord out there in the world, or worse still that Grindelwald himself was the one this prophecy spoke of.
The one who would rise above even his previous station to stand against the wizarding and muggle worlds once more, somehow finding a loophole in the new blood oath sworn between them.
heart unmoved by love's refrain...
Realms of magical and mortal men tremble, as all shall fall before him...
Born of Betrayal, forged in pain, shall know of no equal, love's gentle touch in vain..
These three lines of the second prophecy, lay themselves out like a roadmap to his relationship with Grindelwald.
His power, his genius at magic.
His inability to cease pursuit of his ideals even at the desperate plea from a friend and former lover.
One who viewed his own (Albus's) straying from the dark path ahead as a betrayal, who endured the pain of that path alone, who had probably spend the last fourty years in isolated training becoming something so much more than even himself.
All while stewing their previous relationship into a toxic malice that would heed no attempts at assuaging this new course.