Chapter 50

The entire battlefield fell silent. A bolt of lightning, brighter than any before, split the sky. After the thunderclap shook the heavens, a roar erupted from the castle, shouts, cheers, and triumphant cries crashing over the grounds.

“Voldemort is dead,” Skoll said calmly, as if the news held little surprise for him. He then used the Order of the Phoenix seal to send a message to Dina.

“Really? He’s dead? Is it true?” Dobby blinked, stunned, then leapt into the air. “Mr. Skoll! It was you! You did it! Right? Oh, Mr. Skoll! Dobby must bow! Dobby must bow to you!”

Skoll glanced at his watch, 11:39 PM.

This had to be the fastest-ending legendary war in history.

“Dobby,” Skoll said, “there’s still work to do.”

“Yes!” Dobby straightened his chest, his large, crystal-clear eyes full of admiration for Skoll.

Skoll handed Dobby three folded parchments and three checks, which the elf took with utmost care.

“Give these three parchments and checks to Aaron, and tell him to gather everyone in the Great Hall. After he reads the parchments, he’ll know what to do.”

“Yes!” Dobby nodded eagerly.

“Also…” Skoll looked around the office, grabbed paper and pen, and quickly scribbled a note. He tore the page into three pieces, folded them, and wrote the names Hermione, Ron, and Harry on each.

“These are for Hermione, Ron, and Harry. Give them directly to each of them, no one else may handle them! The names are written on them. Can you do that, Dobby?”

Dobby nodded emphatically. “Dobby will complete the task!”

“Good. Tell them to destroy the papers after reading them.”

“Yes, Mr. Skoll!”

“Finally…” Skoll scanned the office again. He grabbed another parchment, waved his wand, and a lifelike image of Dobby appeared on it.

He held a quill and wrote a single line: The first free house-elf of this century, brave little elf, Dobby, my blessings to you.

Signed: Skoll

Thinking a moment more, he took another sheet and, in extravagant flourished English, wrote: In tonight’s battle at Hogwarts, Skoll thanks all house-elves who participated directly or indirectly. You were amazing. Thank you.

Signed: Skoll

He cast waterproofing charms over both parchments, handed them to Dobby, and said:
“Dobby, I have nothing else to give you, consider this painting a gift. The other parchment is for all the other house-elves.”

“Painting? A gift? For all the elves?” Dobby carefully placed his belongings in his big clean pocket and took the two parchments from Skoll.

He looked at the painting, then the parchments, and completely froze.

“Mr. Skoll? Skoll says Dobby is brave? And blesses Dobby? Thanks all elves?” he whispered in disbelief, tears rolling down his cheeks. He started bouncing up and down with excitement.

“Stop! Dobby!” Skoll said, startled at the elf’s reaction.

Dobby froze immediately, tears glistening, sobbing softly, but carefully keeping them from falling onto the parchments or into his pocket.

“All right, Dobby. Execute the tasks!”

“Yes! The task will be completed!” Dobby shouted, then Apparated away.

Skoll let out a long breath and walked to the fireplace. The warm orange flames flickered invitingly. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, he tossed it in and spoke an address.

The flames turned bright green and engulfed him.

In a house on Spinner’s End, England, the fireplace glowed. Skoll appeared in the living room.

By a flickering gas lamp, Snape sat in an armchair, sipping an unknown drink.

“You didn’t attend the victory party? Came straight here so early? I expected at least until after midnight,” Snape said enigmatically.

“The environment here isn’t great,” Skoll said, waving his wand to light a gas lamp. The dark room finally had some stable light.

Snape said nothing.

“Avenged yet? Happy now?” Skoll asked, sitting across from him.

Snape didn’t answer. He swirled the liquid in his cup and glanced at Skoll. “You killed Voldemort. How does it feel?”

Skoll shook his head. “I don’t know… before, I was afraid. After…? Still don’t know.”

A silence fell between them.

“So, what now? The Order of the Phoenix will certainly disband,” Skoll asked.

“Doesn’t matter. I won’t stay in England,” Snape said.

Skoll reached into his pocket, took out a parchment, and wrote an address.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to recommend a teaching position.”

“Teach what?” Snape asked coldly, barely glancing at it.

“Freedom courses. A set number of sessions per week, but you choose the subject, anything you want.”

“Dark Arts?”

“Yes. With research funding.”

Snape waved his wand; the parchment flew to his hand. He frowned. “Australia? A seaside magic school? Are you sure it exists? Is that really the school’s name?”

“It will,” Skoll said. “If you want, in two years, come to the address on the parchment. You’ll see a magic school.”

“You’re joking?”

“I never joke with clever people,” Skoll said. He produced a leather pouch. “This is a deposit. If you don’t come, donate it, or handle it as you wish.”

Skoll stood, ready to leave.

“Did you found this school?” Snape asked, still seated.

“A friend plans to run it. I support her, help recruit staff. You’re perfect for it. But coming is your choice; the start will be boring.” Skoll said.

Snape said nothing.

Skoll walked through the corridor, reached the door, gripped the handle, paused, then opened it. Stepping out into the November night, it was bitterly cold. No rain, no stars, no moon, nothing.

He tightened his robes and strode into a narrow alley, then Apparated away.