The curse breakers at the Nice branch of Gringotts were ready. They had already chosen the appropriate ritual and the appropriate time. While most dark rituals are more appropriate for the night, this ritual was intended to get rid of the dark, so it was planned to reach its peak at midday, Nice time, which was eleven in the morning in Britain.
Unlike the British Goblins, who had several treaties with the Magical Ministry, the French ones were not limited by such treaties. The chosen ritual would get rid of all the parts of that soul, wherever they would be, and also of all the souls wilfully connected to it.
As rituals go, it wasn't even a very lengthy ritual. It could be finished in slightly over three hours. The planning allowed for four, to account for any problems that could be encountered. The pace could be slowed or hastened to reach the peak exactly at noon, regardless of any possible delays.
–..–
Voldemort was not yet ready to go public. While most of his old supporters had come to his call, they were just too few and had lost any combat readiness they had possessed fifteen years earlier. He needed to get more supporters and train them to do his bidding. Unlike the previous time, he was not going to join any fight unless he was absolutely sure of its results. Despite his Horcruxes, the risk was just too high. Spending all those years as a wraith was an experience he wouldn't like to repeat. Well, he was in no hurry. His forces could be ready in a year or two. He would push them mercilessly, of course, but he didn't quite mind if it would take even a whole year longer, as long as he was safe and his forces would be ready when he needed them.
On the day of the autumn equinox, he woke up early, feeling uneasy for no discernible reason. 'It's probably the changing weather,' he thought and dismissed the feeling.
Some time later, he felt his head ache, as if it was too heavy for him. That was a bother, but not enough to worry about. Severus had already left a multitude of medical potions with him, so he just took one against headaches and went to rest on his bed until the potion would take effect. Luckily, he was alone, having sent his minions on various errands the previous evening. Nobody could see him in his moments of weakness and nobody should. A Dark Lord should have no weaknesses. At least his minions should believe so.
Yet the potion helped only for a short while. He felt better a few minutes after taking it and was even able to nap a bit, but then he was awakened by a much worse ache. He felt like his head was going to explode, mainly his forehead. He didn't feel able to even walk to the adjacent room and take another potion. He just lay in bed, fighting his pains and barely able to breathe.
'Shouldn't I take some powers from my minions? It could help me fight this pain. But no. Most are so weak, magically speaking, that I may take too much and lose their services. Maybe just a little bit from each? It could work…' He tried to siphon just a little bit of magical power. He felt the magic flowing into him, but it also seemed to worsen his pains. He stopped at once, wondering what else he could do.
Nagini came into mind, but the snake had hunted the previous evening and was probably still sleeping and digesting. It wouldn't even notice his call, he was sure.
He wondered if Wormtail could have helped him, had he not sent the rat on an errand. Like the others, it would take a few more days before he would be back.
He then felt himself weakening quicker than before. Without giving it any more thought, he resumed siphoning his minions' powers, disregarding the pain.
His head felt like it was going to explode. With so much pain, he couldn't even think clearly. At some moment he felt fear creeping into him, making him unsure of the safety of his Horcruxes. He couldn't dwell on it, though.
And then he felt like the day was turning into a night. As wide as he tried to open his eyes, the light seemed to dim and the fear seemed to consume him. With his last breath, he emitted a cry of fury and despair before he could do and feel nothing.
–..–
Lucius Malfoy went to Gringotts that morning, like he used to do at least once a week. He needed some gold to help him convince the Minister of a certain matter, even though the Minister was currently under investigation, and some more gold for the appropriate officials who needed to handle it. That was no problem. His smuggling business brought him more than twice his weekly 'expenses' on 'political campaigns', so he didn't worry he would run out of funds.
There were fewer tellers than usual that morning. Well, autumn was well known to bring various illnesses, especially to this uncouth lot. He still didn't like the fact that he had to wait in a queue instead of getting immediate service.
He was still waiting for the old wizard in front of him to finish his business when he felt a small nudge in his dark mark. For a moment, he thought the Dark Lord was calling him, but he then relaxed. When the Dark Lord called somebody, it was by a series of very painful pulses, as if pushing a needle into the mark several times in quick succession. Such a small nudge could only mean that his Master was thinking momentarily of him.
Then, he suddenly felt like his head was going to burst. He collapsed on the floor, the pain making his muscles irresponsive. His vision seemed to grey quickly. Had he been able to see himself, he would have noticed a dark-red aura engulfing his body and pulsing slowly, as if warning bystanders from approaching. When the red aura vanished, Lucius was dead.
–..–
At Hogwarts, Severus Snape had a similar experience — his last. He had just caught some Gryffindor students who didn't wear their ties correctly, or so he told them. He ignored the first nudge, as usual. Then, when the pain threw him to the ground and he was engulfed in red, they all ran away in fright. He took his last breath alone on the floor, thinking, 'Damn Potter! What had he done now?!'
When Poppy arrived, called by some students, she could only confirm that the hated professor was dead. She found it very difficult to show any measure of sadness at that.
–..–
The Potters were unaware of all these happenings. They were busy with their lessons and then hurried to the great hall for lunch, not even listening to the gossip. It was impossible to ignore it, though, when they finally sat at the table.
"Does anybody know what happened to Snape?" Ginny asked, plopping near them.
"Some saw him fall to the ground and getting a dark-red aura. I heard he was then levitated to the hospital wing," one of her classmates said.
"I was slightly injured at Herbology and went to the infirmary before coming here," another told them. "I saw somebody on a bed with a bedsheet over their whole body. That's usually done to corpses, doesn't it?"
Harry looked at Hermione and they both seemed to understand it the same. "It looks like he died, if that was really him," Harry said cautiously.
"If it's really him, then he was saved from the humiliation of being fired. The owners gave him an ultimatum that he didn't seem to heed," Hermione added. She tried not to show it, but she felt quite smug.
It was soon officially confirmed. When the teachers arrived, they all looked very serious. Professor McGonagall looked worried and Dumbledore's sadness seemed to add quite a few years to his apparent age. He stood at the table and waited for some silence. As usual, he got it quickly enough. The students were quite eager to hear the official version after hearing all the rumours.
"I'm grieved to inform you that our beloved Potions Professor died this morning of unknown cause. For the next few days, until we can find a replacement, Potions lessons are cancelled. Please use that time to study ahead."
It was evident to Harry that most of the students barely refrained from cheering. Snape was the most hated teacher. The way Dumbledore used to dismiss any complaint against that man, didn't endear him, of course. Only Dumbledore could think that ignoring the complaints would help in any way.
Even the Slytherin students didn't seem to mourn. Only Draco seemed sad, but not overly so.
Dumbledore had something more to say. "Until we can assign new positions, Professor Vector will act as the Slytherin Head of House. That's all for now."
He sat heavily on his chair, looking like he had barely kept himself standing until then.
"Do you have any idea what killed him?" Harry asked.
Hermione gave it a thought and then shook her head. "From what we heard I can only say that it was surely something magical. I still have no idea what it was and how it came to be. I wonder if we will ever know."
–..–
It was different at dinner. Until then, some rumours had made their way to Hogwarts, but nobody knew anything for sure. Some children from dark families seemed worried, only due to the rumours. According to these, whatever killed Snape, also killed quite a few others, all bearing the Dark Mark, but nobody knew for sure who, how, and why.
The atmosphere during dinner was subdued, mainly due to these rumours. Then, when it was almost over, a multitude of owls came in. While mail was normally delivered at breakfast, it was not too out of the ordinary to get mail at dinner too, usually answers to mail sent in the morning. This time, many of the envelopes were black. Harry had a feeling they were bearing bad news.
His feeling was confirmed as soon as the recipients started opening their mail. Draco Malfoy looked at his letter incredulously, mumbling "This can not be true, no way!" Theodore Nott just paled and clutched the letter in his hand, looking almost stunned.
There were more, of course. Harry noticed that most of the letters went to Slytherin, but a few went to Ravenclaw and one each to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, or were there two? He wasn't sure.
Professor Vector proved her worth in her temporary new position. She quickly approached the Slytherin table, checked a few of the letters and rushed back to the head table, where Dumbledore was not present. She talked a bit to the deputy. She then returned to the Slytherin table and assembled around her all those who got the black envelopes, leading them out of the great hall. Professor Flitwick did the same with the affected Ravenclaws.
Professor McGonagall stood up and called for silence. "It looks like whatever killed Professor Snape also killed quite a few more. The rest of the lessons today and all the lessons tomorrow are cancelled. Please try to keep quiet and help your housemates who got the grave news. I'll let you know more when we get the information."
She then turned to Professor Sprout and they each went to her house table to handle the affected students from their houses.
"Is it possible that all marked Death Eaters were killed?" Harry wondered.
Hermione had already considered the possibility. "All the ones we know of died the same way and at the same time. I tend to believe that their master also died."
"But how can that be?" Harry asked.
Hermione gave it some thought. "Do you remember what they told you after healing your scar? They said they would handle that soul separately. I believe they did it today. If they did what I hope they did, then they destroyed all the soul pieces, including the one in the resurrected body, and whatever souls were bound to it. The Dark Mark binds the souls of the bearers to the Dark Lord, you know. Either the ritual killed them along with their master or Voldemort felt himself losing his powers and sucked them dry before he was also removed from existence. I can't be sure how exactly it happened, of course."
Harry sighed. "It still saddens me that so many became orphans."
Hermione shook her head. "It was their parents' responsibility. By submitting to that madman they sealed their fate and that of their children. It has nothing to do with you."
He sighed again. "I know, dear, but I don't like it, regardless."
She smiled understandingly. "It only shows you're a good person, Harry. I would have not fallen in love with you had you not been that way."
"And I'm glad you did," he answered, finally showing a real smile.