The wind rushed through his incomplete form as he left the capitol city behind, hurrying off in light of the message he received. Short, blunt, and unmistakable, it was a deadly declaration. The vengeful voice of his "master". Malum's only warning, "It begins."
The frightened cries of ponies in the distance were unmistakable. The hiss of changeling invaders was perhaps the only thing he could better perceive. Swarms as dense as overflowing parasprites rained down upon the pony establishments in Twilight's town. Snape landed and reformed his physical body in the midst of a stampede, as the retreating citizens leaped and bound over rubble, wreckage, and each other to escape their dying town.
A blazing fire had been lit on some of the homes and businesses, and it seemed that the flames were obeying the commands of an evil force. They engulfed the nearby market stands, and formed a monstrous shape that recalled a changeling drone as it roared through the streets. Snape acted quickly to conjure a rushing stream of water, spraying the fire and tempering, but not extinguishing, it. The fire lost its changeling-like shape, and seemed to waver.
For the most part, the drones ignored the human, but Snape could tell they all recognized him. He started his own fire, a small but eager blaze, that quickly began to combat the enemy flame, sparring equally enough with it to create a deadlock. The fires would put each other out soon enough, but the fire was the first of many problems Snape was about to encounter.
The buzzing of the swarm became more distant as the enemy numbers spread out to surround the town like a dome; they remained vigilant and attacked the few soldiers who were opposing them. The citizens received the same attention, and it was clear that many had already died. Their eyes were filled with malice, but also obedience. The source of their commands was the key to stopping their invasion, but neither Malum nor Chrysalis was near, so far as he could tell. There must be a drone of lesser authority nearby then, and when he found it-
His thoughts when black. His vision blurred and his hearing was cut off. Something fast moving, ferocious and enraged, and fearless attacked him, wrenching his arm in its jaws like a dog with a bone; he was swept off his feet, his wand flew away into the anarchy, and his upper arm was almost yanked from his shoulder. Blood spilled out hastily and he landed in a roll, bouncing across the ground for several yards.
Luckily, his arm was already numb, and he only felt the pain of the crash. Gnashing jaws rang out in clanging distortion as his ears tried to compensate for whatever poison had diluted his senses. He almost made it to his feet when the attacker raced at him again, and threw him a few feet in the opposite direction, a little closer to his wand. It was getting really hard to breath.
He dragged himself a little farther away from the oncoming buzzing, but he was lifted into the air and stabbed the back by pincer-like claws. His back, unlike his arm, was lit ablaze with pain, as though liquid nitrogen was flowing in his veins and his skin was being bathed in mercury. Before he knew it, Snape had been thrown back to the ground and landed awkwardly on his side. Bleeding from several different areas, unable to work most of his muscles, and without a wand, he settled on pretending to be dead. If the attacker was smart enough to see through it, Snape would die again, and much more painfully this time.
His eyes were shut, his lungs were so distressed that he didn't have to force himself not to breath, and he stopped thinking almost completely. He even felt his heart skip beats. To the eye and mind's eye of the enemy, he was dead. He wasn't so sure he had to pretend about it though. It was as though something beyond Equestrian reality, or even his own, was taking his very essence away. A dead man needn't play possum.
Darkness abounded.
Hogwarts had gotten so very vile over the past few months. Students were slaves, teachers were tools, and darkness was king. The literal and metaphorical lack of light had consumed the once proud school, and there was no sliver of past happiness left anymore. The ghosts themselves were paranoid of what could be around every corner. The old whomping willow tree, the castle walls, and the stone knights which adorned them all shown with a cursed affliction. Only the shadows seemed at home.
It was a cold, uneasy night when Snape sat in the Headmaster's office, alone, waiting for the moment that could prove most valuable. The Carrows had been sent off with simple instructions, away into Hogsmead to fetch Snape's package, which was entirely insignificant. Now alone, Snape placed the stack of papers on the desk and moved to the balcony.
He watched the clouds for a time, expecting the black vortex to arrive at any second, but when it did not, he afforded himself a look downwards. He did not have the time or opportunity, that night, to see his friend go. Long after Dumbledore was laid to rest, Snape returned, not as a teacher, not as a guide, not as any sort of leader, but a shadow. He returned to Hogwarts as a villain beyond measure. No one dared be near him unless they were under Voldemort's shadow, and no one who used to know him would play Devil's Advocate. Who could trust a devil like him anymore?
He peered out into the forrest in the distance, wondering if he could spot Hagrid and the trouble-making students wandering within its bowels. It was all he could do anymore, punish the rebels with as much prejudice as would be expected, and cast them off. He was never one for having many friends around, but to hope for anyone like a friend in Hogwarts now was beyond stupid. Dumbledore's portrait glanced at him knowingly, but confidently. But the stillness in his face, the uncompromising flatness to him, though unavoidable, made the comfort more transparent. Even a magical painting was still a painting, and unless they were having a real conversation, the old man's smile did nothing to boost Snape's spirits.
Snape turned and found himself whispering to the portrait so that it would not hear; his tone was weaker and more unprotected than he would dare let another teacher, far less a student, ever hear him use, "Would you kill a friend? Would you have done the same for me? Have your forsaken me here? I did what you wanted, and the war goes on...without end in sight. How can we go on? How can I? Have you forsaken me? Have you, Albus? Would you do the same for me? Would I do it for you again...?"
Dumbledore's smile never wavered, his eyes never changed the care they held, nor did his expression seem to be affected by Snape's doubt. Somehow, Snape felt he knew, but even in death, Albus did not show weakness, not that a painting ever did at such times of quiet. If there was any sort of comfort in his life now, it was the faint, kindred spark of life that Dumbledore left behind. But even that was scant enough to keep him content. His drive was not wavering, but his soul was.
Snape moved back over to the very edge of the balcony; peering down he found a stone, smooth and rounded, perfect for skipping across a lake, and possessing some value, however small. When it had been left here or what purpose it could have served, Snape did not know. But still, he picked it up, and felt it in his fingers. It held no magical properties, it was nothing that should be desired, and yet, the fact that it was here, the mystery behind it's existence, made it noteworthy. Deduction would not reveal its origins, nor its purpose; the meaning of the rock, however, was something that anyone could interpret. What did a rock mean?
Did it belong to Dumbledore? Was it thrown up at some point? Would he throw it back down? It was nigh unexplainable, but this stone made Snape uneasy. It had no voice, but the rock's condemnation was clear. There was no sight from within the stone's center, but it glared at him as he examined it. No matter what he told himself, the rock said different.
He stretched his hand out over the balcony, holding the stone tightly for a moment, then opening his hand and feeling the faint winds confront the stone.
"Murderer..." It said.
Snape moved his head back and titled his palm over to let it go, and he watched it fall. With perfect grace it tumbled down, falling into the black shadows of the castle, towards the hidden ground. By the time it landed, it had blended completely within the darkness, become a part of it, but Snape heard the echo clearly.
Albus Dumbledore was dead, Snape had murdered an innocent for the second time in his life, and there was no going backwards. Changing the past was futile. The wind picked up, the crows in the distance cawed, signaling one another in their tongue. The darkness got darker.
"Snape!"
The voice was unmistakable; unrepentant and rude, and above all wicked, Bellatrix Lestrange stood, leaning against the wall in a seductive but repulsive fashion, peering at him with the eyes of a snake, black and hateful. Her wand, crooked and foul, was in her hand, aimed carelessly at his feet.
"Bellatrix," He acknowledged with prejudice.
"I'll have you know I've been busy, carrying on the Dark Lord's orders in the stead of those whom he...has cast aside," She said as she looked around the old office, inspecting the shelves and walls and ornaments in their places.
"I'm sure being his errand girl is hard work, but I have asked you here for a reason."
"Out with it then."
"So eager to return to your sister's house and pace through the halls? Alright then," He mocked, "I have something for you. Something that would be best kept out of the sight of students and...unfriendly individuals."
Already annoyed with Snape's attitude, Bellatrix strode forward and stared him down, "What game are you playing Snape? What angle are you working now?"
Snape stepped away and found the glass case that held the Sword of Gryffindor, gently removing the lid as his colleague watched apprehensively. He slowly moved the case over to the desk and paced back to the stand where the glimmering sword lay, as though displaced in time somehow. He took it in his arms and held it between them.
"This sword, as you well know, or at least ought to know, is a symbol; it stands for...courage, and pride. It is like a beacon for the enemy, a monument to all that the Dark Lord holds in contempt. One could say it is the juxtaposing image of our Dark Mark. For such reasons, it has already inspired students at this school, particularly those of its own house, to...rally against my authority."
"And what does this concern me for?" Bellatrix asked, folding her arms.
"It must be removed from Hogwarts, and I request that you take it someone it will cause no trouble."
"Why should I help you? I hate you Snape, as you well know, and as you well hate me. From the sound of it," A smile erupted on her face, "it might just be a good idea to let it be your headache."
"Anyone who stands against me also opposes the Dark Lord, Bellatrix, and as you say, you do serve him so faithfully."
"Fine," She sighed and took the sword from his arms, nearly cutting open his hand, to which he frowned at her.
Displeased at realizing that she was not leaving just yet, Snape paused and waited for Bellatrix to taunt him however she was going to as she looked around the room again, and this time, the office did seem to be rather old and poor.
"Can't say I ever liked this dungheap of a school, and I've always hated Dumbledore...but I might just hate you more, Headmaster; here's hoping you go out in a similar way."
"I would advice against threatening me, I'm a better wizard and a bigger asset to our Master than you ever were or will be."
"Threaten? No, Snape, I don't bother with petty threats at all, I just...take what I want, and leave all the rest for dead."
"As much of a fool as the old man was," Snape reminded, "he did hold great power, and if for no other reason, it was his power that made me admire him, slightly, and I was sure not to squander my time spying on him without learning his tricks. I've learned spells from the two most powerful wizards of our era, not to mention I've crafted several of my own. I'd advise you to learn your place among our ranks."
Bellatrix cackled and held the sword out, pointing at Snape with it. She almost stumbled and fell over, but she never took her eyes off of Snape's glowering face. The crows outside cawed again, and the wind rushed in a short burst. Soon she howled on into a giggle, and finished her amusement with a smile.
"You have the sword, and now have no reason at all to stay here in my office; do take your leave now," Snape told her coldly.
"Watch your back, Snape, the Dark Lord admires ambition as well, and you don't have much of it...like I do."
"And here I thought I asked you to leave, not for my Death Eater's report card."
"I'm going, with pleasure," Bellatrix told him as she strutted over to the balcony and apparated away. As cold as Hogwarts had been, with her passing it got faintly warmer.
Snape sighed inwardly and rejoiced at having less problem in his hair, he then paused for a moment and observed the atmosphere, became one with the castle; when he had determined that there was no danger in consulting his friend, he came to the portrait of Dumbledore and the old man inside seemed to startle to life after a long, paralyzed sleep.
"She took the fake sword," Snape reported, "the real one is safe behind you."
"Good work, Severus. You must keep aware though, secrets at Hogwarts tend to be discovered, even the Headmaster's secrets. In these dark times, a secret revealed can change life into death."
A humming in the distance meant that Snape's spell had been tipped off, and that he was to expect company very shortly.
"The Carrows will be back here any second, what do I with the real sword?"
"It will be necessary very shortly, but you ought not reveal yourself to those which will take it."
"Very well," Snape replied and turned his face to the door.
"Doing the things you do for me, that is what true friendship is, and I thank you immensely," Dumbledore told his successor warmly, and thereafter returned to his sleep-like state.
Snape nodded curtly and moved away from the picture as the siblings opened the door with a package in their hands. They greeted him and sat down with crude smiles on their faces. Snape pretended to be interested in whatever dark gluttony had caused them such joy as they explained their errand's events to him.
Snape's eyes fluttered opened and his face contorted with extreme pain. For the first few seconds he sensed himself in a more out-of-body way, as though he was watching himself suffer while being pulled away. Nothing else stood out him, despite the town having nearly been decimated and trodden over by the enemy. He even felt the connection with his own body evaporate.
He was pulled back to the battlefield, in part, by the anger resonating off the changeling who had lifted him off the ground, ready to slide it's jaws into his heart and rip it out as a trophy. It was the gloating type, too, and it mocked him as he struggled weakly to be free.
You are the Half Blood Prince. Lord Malum has informed me of you. I thought you would be strong, but you fall like a tree without roots, barely able to stand against me. Changelings are the past, present, and future of this world; pitiful creatures as yourself will be forgotten by our kind!
It's jaws snapped forward in a flash. He had barely been able to look his killer face to face, and in closing his eyes, Snape accepted his defeat. He fell to the ground and lay like a skeleton, displaced from time to suffer forever. With his pained breath, Snape muttered his last word, "Sorry..."
The changeling roared as blood fell from its mouth in blotches and pools. It flailed its upper limbs into the air and clawed the air like it was a ferocious beast. It stomped its feet up and down beside Snape and writhed in what it had done. The reaction lasted several seconds, and then, something most unexpected happened.
Its throat was crushed, its limbs broken all over, and its organs were lit ablaze from the inside. Rather than crumpling to the ground dead like Snape, it seemed to levitate up and was blown into pieces, taken from the world without mercy or grace. Malum strode out from behind and saw Snape's corpse.
"You have earned this much," he whispered in rage.
Lighting his crooked horn, Malum telekinetically grasped the subordinate's pieces and ground them into pure energy. The organic material was crushed and stacked together to form the purple-green dark power, and sparked with the catalyst of Malum's own sorcery, it lit up into a usable source of magic.
He collected the dark magic and, though tempted to add to his own power, he knew there was time enough for that later. He turned to Snape's cold body, and combined the power above his head with the corpse. Malum knew the risks of this arcane art, but he dared to go ahead with it anyways. He soon found himself frowning, however. Snape's wounds were healing, the cuts closing and reforming skin, the organs repairing themselves on a near molecular level, but the spark of life was absent. Snape was not yet resurrected.
The connection Malum had forged was not to be taken lightly. The biggest and most obvious risk to him was the chance of slipping into death with Snape. Souls were not easily recaptured from the Reaper. If jostled properly, however, the body could reforge the link with its soul, and thus, recreate the bond of life between the two.
Of course, this had only been done twice in known changeling history. Hardly a handful of his ancestors had been powerful enough to do this, and the costs were usually considered too grave to allow. Even the name of this spell was reason enough to die in some eras of his species' history. He felt the mutual pull of death already, but his will was supreme. He would find victory, and his servant would be at his side to witness and attest to his glory. He owned the Half Blood Prince, and nothing was going to take him away.
He sent the sacred reviving spell into the body, and it twitched, and for a fraction of a second, Snape was alive, but it did not last. He tried again, and once more after that, but did not find Snape's soul reunited with the body below him. Malum began to growl, as he repeated the process.
Then, out of nowhere, he felt his power slip away from him, and he nearly fell over. The magic was pulled right from his horn and his eyes, and entered into Snape, where it was sucked away by death and all things related. Though weakening, Malum refused to break the spell, knowing that he would not get another chance. His will had to prevail, or he would perish for naught.
He bent right over Snape's face and roared, and he managed to pull back some of his stolen power; he fed off his inspiring performance, and sent the spell upon Snape several more times in quick succession, and at last, he felt the spark return, but it was in danger of fading away. The game of tug of war was more serious than ever.
Despite his efforts, Malum could not change the state of Snape's condition, and he was forced to break the connection and let the chips fall where they may when something most unexpected occurred.
"HEY!" A pink pony shouted after somehow sneaking up beside him, "DON'T TOUCH SNAPEY!"
BOOM!
A canon of odd but powerful force fired and struck Malum in the face. Due to his weakened condition, the damage was embarrassingly effective, and he stumbled away from his servant's body, temporarily blinded. Before he regained his bearings, a lasso was slung around his neck and he was yanked onto his back.
"Got 'im!" Applejack called out.
"Please just promise me that you'll be careful!" Fluttershy warned to the onslaught of furious critters rushing towards the changeling. Malum had been foolish enough to attack and destroy their lands, and now, they would have their say in the matter.
A bear of rather large size seized Malum by the throat as soon as the changeling had gotten to his feet, and the two goats rammed into his sides with their horns. The small swarm of birds began to peck at his weak spots, his eyes and ears and the spots on his hardened skin that were weakest.
He absorbed the punishment for a few seconds, but found the strength within himself to create a shockwave, which repelled the critters and created an opening. He bit into the lasso still around his neck and tore it, preventing Applejack from pulling him down again. He launched himself into the air, but hardly got seven feet above the ground before a blue pegasus rocketed at him and threw him back down again.
"I don't know if he'll be alright!" Rarity called with distress from where Snape lay.
"It won't matter if we don't take this varmint down!" Applejack called back as she ran at the once again dazed changeling.
A beaver scurried along in front of Malum and slapped him around with its tail, right into Applejack's kick. The farmer pony smiled at her victory, but her face turned worried when Malum grabbed the beaver with his magic, and flung it into Applejack, taking them both down.
"Enough of this foolishness!" Malum screamed and flew up into the air, careful to avoid Rainbow Dash, and began firing magic blasts at the ponies who challenged him. Were he at full power, it would've been a much easier conquest.
Malum blasted the bear protecting Fluttershy and knocked the yellow pegasus out as well, but met his match with Pinkie Pie, who somehow eluded his blasts and clung onto his back. Every time he turned his head, she was on the other shoulder, and despite the efforts he put forth to shake her off or smash her into the ground, she was not deterred.
"Big mistake!" Pinkie told him, clobbering him in the face with a pie and jumping off with a laugh. Rarity had finished telekinetically tying the cord to Malum's leg by the time he had removed the pie, and Rainbow dragged him across the landscape as she darted from place to place.
He found that fighting the pegasus in flight power and speed was a hopeless battle, and had been knocked around several times before he managed to free himself from the cord. He got off a well placed blast at hit Rainbow as she attempted to come after him again, but his victory was short lived as the animals came back for the second round.
Malum blasted the charging goats away, and managed to glide away from the bear, but he was unprepared for lunging Timberwolves that Rarity, Applejack, and Fluttershy had led to the battle. They buried him under themselves and bit away at his limbs as he struggled. Hard pressed, Malum resorted to a more powerful spell, despite knowing it would further drain him and prolong the battle.
"Did we get him?" Rarity asked just before the Timberwolves burst into fire and retreated back towards the Everfree Forest.
"Nope," Applejack replied in a deadpan voice.
Malum immediately erected a shield around himself, causing Rainbow to bounce right away as she aimed to take down one of his legs.
"What now?" She asked the others when she had finally stopped rolling.
"I can't break the spell," Rarity informed the others desperately as all her magical attempts were stumped.
"We've got to get to him before he has a chance to power up some huge spell!" Applejack warned.
"I've got this," Pinkie told the others nonchalantly, trotting over to Malum calmly, "Hey, Mr. Meanie-face! You stay away from our friends!"
Malum chuckled at the meager threat, but his eyes went wide when he heard a beeping coming from his back. He found a cupcake stuck on his neck, he barely had time to process what was going on when it ruptured into a surprisingly powerful explosion. He went flying and broke right through his shield, and landed painfully in front of the ponies.
"You just got...ponyed!" Pinkie quipped as Malum rose, blasting him in the face with her party canon again. He flew up to the dark clouds above the town, and just as he began to fall again, Pinkie was there with him, and fired again, shooting him through the clouds and, with luck, far away.
When she landed, Pinkie found her friends coming to cheer her on. They hoisted her above their heads and she smiled back enthusiastically.
"Was it good? How was the pun!?"
"Well....the pun sucked. But you were awesome!" Rainbow replied.
"Aww," Pinkie commented, dejected, "I thought it was a great pun."
"Forget the pun, we did it! We won!" Rarity cheered.
The cheers and joyous emotions faded quickly, however, when Malum plummeted down again and fell right through the ground, into the bedrock. The ponies went silent and slowly crept closer to the hole to investigate. Upon looking down inside, Applejack gasped and they all took several steps back. Malum crawled out slowly, hurt, but more so in his pride than his body.
"Pathetic....ponies. You cannot defeat...me."
Malum grabbed them all with a sudden and fierce magical grip, and they were herded together in front of him, along with the animals that had aided them in their assault. He chuckled again as they tried to escape, but even Rarity, the only other magic user, was helpless to free herself from his rage.
He eyed them over and pondered how to exterminate them now that he had regained his power and was once again their clear and undoubted superior. His breathing and pulse began to calm as he pictured simply obliterating them as he had his disobedient lieutenant, or of beheading them one by one in front of each other; maybe he would have his hordes feast on them alive. There were so many rich possibilities, but he knew the one he wanted as his eyes flickered with light.
"Ah....Half Blood Prince. You have risen at last."
Snape got to his feet and breathed in what had occurred since he was....put down...by the other changeling. Malum seemed to be pleased to see him, but he had Twilight's friends captive. They were shocked to see him awake, but even more shocked that he was familiar with the changeling opponent of theirs.
"Snape...help!" Applejack whispered as she was being choked by Malum's grip.
"Silence!" Malum demanded, "Do me the honors. Kill them."
All the eyes there were directed at him, some expectant, some angry, some stunned. He watched the scene back as it waited for him to move it along, and found his wand laying in the dirt. He summoned it to his hand with non-verbal magic and pointed it at the ponies. They were demoralized beyond expression, and watched his numb face as he held his wand ready to strike them down.
"Whenever you please, Half Blood Prince."
Snape glowered and walked forward, staring deep into their eyes. He didn't risk talking to them, verbally or with telepathically, but he nodded as he paced on.
"Don't!" Rarity squeaked.
"No!" Rainbow urged.
Snape flung his wand swiftly, but shifted the trajectory of the blast just before he let the spell fly, and the cruciatus curse struck Malum right between his stunned eyes. His spell was broken instantly and the ponies fled from his presence, scurrying behind Snape. Malum fell to the ground and rolled in agony and suffering as he howled out the title of his betrayer.
"Half Blood Prince! Traitor!! SNAPE!!!"
His body was quaking with the pain, and his horn was throbbing as magic leaped off it like it the world itself was a conductor. Snape summoned up a protecting spell to save himself and the ponies and critters as raw magic blasts plastered the area and demolished what his forces had left behind.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Malum's head burst and his corpse fell to the ground in silence.
"Snape....how.....why!?" Rainbow questioned as the dead changeling's body twitched with the remnants of his spell.
"That was.......oh my," Fluttershy whimpered, almost fainting.
"I did not do that," Snape told them as he thought over the situation.
Silence ruled the day again as the last of the changeling hordes around the plane of ruin once called Ponyville left, flying into the horizon, towards Canterlot at the top of the nearby mountain. The ponies were still trying to figure out what had occurred, and all that had befallen their home. They knew nothing about the truth of the attack and had only the instinct of survival to feed on as they went about defending the town.
Snape, however, realized he was correct in his assumption. The most crucial of moments was occurring now, at the capital, and he was not there. He turned to the ponies as they began to thank him.
"Listen to me! All of you! Make your way to Canterlot as quickly as possible! The faster you arrive the better!"
"What about you?" Rarity asked as Snape turned and, with some pain due to his recent trip from nonexistence, he flew off after the swarm towards Canterlot. This was going to be a short war, regardless of who won. He had already laid out his plans, and if he was astute enough in his research and his tact, then he would have ensured the pony's victory against the changelings and more, not to mention his mission's success. Despite this, however, a very bad feeling set over him as he flew faster to where the Princesses were defending their home against the might of Chrysalis' armies.