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chapter seventy-three. (he stole her youth and promised heaven )
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ASCELLA COULDN'T BREATHE. She couldn't fathom what she had just witnessed — her Professor, of so many years, had murdered her Headmaster before her very eyes. She loathed him, wished him to be gone from her life, but Ascella struggled to comprehend that Dumbledore was no longer living, breathing, making cryptic messages with his twinkling, blue eyes. And Snape had been the one to do it. It changed her entire view of life upside down.
"Out of here, quickly," said Snape, so careless like he hadn't even murdered Dumbledore.
He seized Malfoy by the scruff of the neck and forced him through the door ahead of the rest; Greyback and the squat brother and sister followed, the latter both panting excitedly. As they vanished through the door, Ascella realised she could move again. What was now holding her paralysed against the wall was not magic, but horror and shock.
Harry was only still for a moment, before a murderous glare struck him across his face. Ascella tried to reach for him, to steady his erratic thoughts, but he dashed from the Astronomy Tower in a blur — Ascella knew that he was going after Snape. And she could not find it within herself to stop him.
Feeling like she could move her legs again, Ascella chased after him before he did something he would regret in his rage-fuelled stupor. She cast her wand at one of the Death Eaters, "Petrificus Totalus!"
The Death Eater buckled as though hit in the back with something solid and fell to the ground, rigid as a waxwork, but he had barely hit the floor when Ascella was clambering over him and running down the darkened staircase.
She leapt the last ten steps of the spiral staircase and stopped where she landed, her wand raised: The dimly lit corridor was full of dust; half the ceiling seemed to have fallen in; and a battle was raging before her, but even as she attempted to make out who was fighting whom, she heard the hated voice shout, "It's over, time to go!" and watched Harry chase after Snape around the corner at the far end of the corridor; he and Malfoy seemed to have forced their way through the fight unscathed. As Ascella plunged after them, one of the fighters detached themselves from the fray and flew at her: It was the werewolf, Fenrir. He was on top of Ascella before Ascella could raise her wand: Ascella fell backward, slamming her head against the cobbled ground, with filthy matted hair in her face, the stench of sweat and blood filling her nose and mouth, hot greedy breath at her throat —
