The tangible ice-blue frost surged outward in vast, sweeping waves, distorting even the surrounding space. Snape, just about to Apparate, abruptly halted and threw up a Shield Charm instead, bracing himself against the freezing tide while cursing inwardly.
You little bastard, can't you tell friend from foe?
The Aurors, rigorously trained and quick to react, joined forces and conjured a massive Protego Totalum. Silver light flared, forming a dome that was instantly swallowed by the encroaching blue-white storm. Visibility dropped to nothing.
They waited for the spell to subside.
It did not.
Tom's magic was never so simple.
Two colossal ice tornadoes descended from sky to earth, shrieking as they tore across the island. They converged toward the Aurors, merging into a single roaring pillar of frozen destruction before detonating in a thunderous explosion.
The blast hurled Snape dozens of meters through the air before he slammed to the ground in an undignified sprawl.
When the storm finally faded, June had become midwinter.
The earth lay fractured and frosted. Snowflakes drifted lazily from a pale sky. The forest stood silent beneath a thin layer of ice, as though the North Sea itself had crept inland.
Snape spat out dirt and staggered upright.
"You didn't kill them all, did you?"
"Of course not." Tom gestured toward a massive crater ahead. "There. Nicely frozen."
Nine Aurors stood encased in solid ice, expressions preserved in a gallery of human absurdity. Shock. Rage. Confusion. One even looked mildly offended.
"As long as they're alive." Snape exhaled sharply. He had come to kill Pettigrew, not start a war. If nine Aurors died, the Ministry would erupt.
He paused.
"Why are there only nine?"
"The other one was guarding Pettigrew. I handled him too." Tom's tone turned meaningful. "This was entirely my effort, by the way. You mostly spectated. We'll need to adjust the pricing."
Snape ignored him.
He had emptied his vault to scrape together thirty thousand Galleons. Sold rare potion ingredients. Even parted with treasured stock. If Tom demanded more, he would have to sell himself next.
Inside the carriage, Peter Pettigrew trembled violently. A gag stuffed into his mouth prevented incantations, leaving him able only to whimper through muffled sobs.
The Aurors had gagged him to stop spellcasting.
Now he could only listen.
He had heard explosions. Apparition cracks. Combat.
Death Eaters?
How could they know so quickly?
Yesterday his identity had been exposed. Today they had come.
He curled inward, heart hammering.
The Aurors would win. They had to win.
Most of the truly dangerous Death Eaters were imprisoned. Ten Aurors against a handful of stragglers?
They would win.
They must win.
The Thestrals screamed suddenly.
The carriage exploded into splinters.
Pettigrew tumbled onto the frozen ground, scrambling to right himself. When he looked up, two cloaked figures in pointed masks stood before him.
Snape flicked his wand.
The gag detonated.
Pettigrew's mouth filled with blood as teeth shattered, but he didn't care. He dropped to his knees, sobbing.
"Don't kill me! Please! I served the Dark Lord! I gave him information! I'm one of you!"
"It was your information that led to his defeat."
Snape's voice, distorted and cold, dripped with hatred.
"Crucio."
Pettigrew's scream tore through the frozen air.
The Cruciatus Curse shredded his nerves and soul alike. He writhed on the ground like a worm, unable to faint. Every time darkness crept in, agony dragged him back.
There were no witnesses.
No Dumbledore.
No restraint.
Snape poured eleven years of hatred and regret into that curse.
"Enough," Tom said lightly. "Keep this up and the Aurors really will freeze to death."
Reluctantly, Snape ceased. Pettigrew lay twitching, barely conscious.
Snape flipped him over.
Their eyes met.
Recognition dawned through blood and terror.
"You're…"
"Avada Kedavra."
Green light burst across the snow.
For a fleeting moment, the frozen forest glowed emerald.
Pettigrew fell heavily onto his back, limbs splayed, eyes wide with the final horror he would ever feel.
Silence returned.
Snape stood there, breathing hard. After a long moment, some invisible weight seemed to ease from his shoulders.
"Let's go."
Tom nodded.
He flicked his wand, releasing a red flare at the isolated Auror. Then another burst struck the nine frozen figures in the crater. The ice began to crack subtly, ensuring survival without immediate awareness.
Then both figures vanished with twin cracks of Apparition.
They reappeared in Ireland.
Tom shed his disguise and smiled brightly.
"Professor, feel free to call anytime. Transparent pricing. Excellent service. Bulk discounts available. Highly rated."
Snape removed his hood and glared.
"Thirty thousand Galleons per appearance. I can't afford you."
Tom shrugged. "Look on the bright side. Without me, you wouldn't have reached Pettigrew. You might have ended up in Azkaban yourself. Would you rather Dumbledore come rescue you?"
Snape's jaw tightened.
He hated how correct that sounded.