As she walked onto the grounds of Hogwarts, Astoria Greengrass could hear the celebration continuing in the great hall. Harry Potter, the most powerful wizard since Dumbledore, the Boy-Who-Lived, and the Man-Who-Conquered, had defeated the Dark Lord.
He had won so completely, so authoritatively, that every remaining death eater threw down their wand the instant they saw their lord's fate. All but one.
Astoria knew that the sight would give her nightmares - as it would for most of the defenders of Hogwarts. Bellatrix Lestrange's life had ended so horrifically, so tragically, that it was hard not to feel a moment of sympathy. But even that death, that gruesome reducto, sent from her own wand, paled in comparison to the fate of Tom Riddle. Their sunset duel on the grounds of Hogwarts would become legend, the tale growing with each telling.
The sounds of the great hall faded as Astoria walked, her mind going over the events of the day.
Harry had dueled the Dark Lord for ten minutes, far longer than any had lasted before him. His command of the typical dueling spells had been masterful, and when he began to add simple prank jinxes into the mix? Voldemort had remained off balance for the rest of the duel.
It was a singular moment, seeing the Bat-Bogey hex strike a man with no nose.
But the trick jinxes were simple and quick, easily cast silently, and their wand movements were deliberately subtle, the better to cast them undetected. Harry mixed them into his normal spell chains, along with minor versions of the confundus and obliviate charms. Mind magic such as that worked poorly, at best, when cast without direction. Which memory are you obliviating? Nothing? Then the spell does nothing - except disrupt the target's thoughts for that brief moment, while the magic waits for the caster's input.
Professor Flitwick, himself a former dueling master, called the move unorthodox - but inspired. Luna snorted and called it obvious. Astoria was forced to agree with both of her fellow Ravenclaws. She was sure that books would later be written about the duel, and memories of the event would be passed down for decades. Today, however, no spell received more attention than the final one.
Harry had managed to land his signature expelliarmus, wrenching the Elder Wand away from the Dark Lord's hand. Catching the wand, taking command of it, winning its allegiance and bending its power to his will, all of that would have turned the tide of the duel. And if he could have done so, Harry would have taken that chance. His focus, in that moment, was solely on denying his enemy that advantage, and in that he was far more successful than he could have imagined.
Astoria wondered if the auror who incinerated the Death Stick knew what he had done. The new Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had kept information about the Hallows close to his robes, just as he was keeping the story of the Horcrux Hunt out of the news. To the public, Voldemort had simply stolen Dumbledore's wand, and an Auror had destroyed it as a means of denying Voldemort that power. Historians later would come to understand the magnitude of that one spell - but not today.
Harry's moment of shock at the act gave Voldemort the chance to pull out his original wand, the long, thin yew wand that had ended so many lives. Indeed, Harry almost missed the enraged Avada Kadavra! As if by reflex alone, the holly wand came up, and another Expelliarmus came from his lips, and the brother wands began a duel of their own.
Phoenix song filled the courtyard, as the sounds of battle fell away. A golden field of energy surrounded the pair, Dark Lord and Beacon of the Light alike. The sickly green beam of magic from Voldemort met the almost Gryffindor red of the disarming charm, and both spells crackled with energy as their casters fought for dominance. Voldemort's face was the picture of rage, a sneer of hatred etched into his snake-like features. He held both hands on his wand, trying to force every bit of magic he could muster along the beam.
Harry, too, looked angry - but it was righteous anger, fuelled by the faces of everyone who had died at the hands of this man, this coward, who hid behind a false name and led the wizarding world to its ruin. How many had been sacrificed on the altar of this man's power? How many names would be etched into the memorial? How dare this man? How DARE he?
With a grunt of exertion, Harry forced the bead of power that much closer to Voldemort. The Dark Lord saw this, and his eyes grew wider with surprise. The arrogant fool did not fathom the possibility that, magic for magic, Potter might be a match for him.
Astoria shook her head at that, as she walked down the path to the Black Lake. What the hell did he think 'Marked as his Equal' meant, exactly?
She remembered the moment that it happened. They all would. Harry reached down and slid a second wand from his pocket. The wood was darker than his own wand, and the handle darker still. Astoria had gasped as she recognized the hawthorne wand of Draco Malfoy.
There were over two hundred witches and wizards standing in the courtyard of Hogwarts, at that moment. All but seven were either defending the castle, or had joined in the assault and had been incapacitated. The remaining death eaters, inner circle members all, were contained at the wands of over forty very angry defenders. They could not break out, but they could not attack without inviting their deaths - for those who remained were in little mood for stupefy.
Every single witch and wizard watched as Harry Potter raised the wand of his enemy, the wand he had taken from the Malfoy scion as they escaped the family's manor. The wand he had taken after being tortured and imprisoned, beaten and drugged. Even in his battered state, Harry Potter had fought and won. Now the prize he had taken that day would end the Dark Lord.
That, too, would be written about for decades to come.
No one heard the spell. No one recognized the simple incantation, an angrily shouted Strike! No one knew that Astoria had helped craft the spell, alongside Luna and Hermione Granger, in hopes of giving Harry a simple spell that could replace the more complicated banishing charms he already knew by heart. It had the added bonus of cancelling the target's momentum - so instead of merely slowing down a flying object or individual, it stopped them dead just before applying its own force.
Astoria had seen Harry stop a lorry that had been banished at him, a muggle device weighing more than a ton, and send it back to the death eater - who had been quite unprepared for the impact. Aurors who arrived later were themselves quite unprepared for the mess that remained.
For his part, Harry had cast the first spell that came to mind. Strike had a simple wand movement - important when casting with an unfamiliar wand in his off hand. It was also a very efficient spell, taking less magic than comparable spells. But its effects were devastating. If done properly, the spell would send its target further than the usual banishing spells, and had a good chance of breaking bones across a large area of impact.
The spell was clear, the only evidence of its passage was a ripple of force through the air. It made no noise, or so little noise that the brother wand effect masked it. When it struck the Dark Lord, however, its effect was unmistakable.
Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, once known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, was liquefied instantly.
Harry's spell had struck him in the torso. In that instant, the torso and head of the Dark Lord seemed to vanish in a spray of blood and gore. The limbs were flung into the air, but they too seemed to have disintegrated. The wand pinwheeled through the air, stabbing itself point-first in the dirt of the courtyard.
Fortunately for all concerned, the brother wand effect lingered enough to protect bystanders from the mess. Harry was not so lucky.
When Bellatrix Lestrange's wail broke the silence, Harry Potter turned and aimed both wands at her. His entire front was covered in blood and gore, and his green eyes shone with the magic he still had at the ready. He watched, cautiously, as Bellatrix stepped forward, looking at the wand sticking out of the ground. He watched her fall to her knees.
He made no move to stop her when she pointed her fearsome walnut wand at her own head. He made no move to stop her reducto.
oOoOoOoOo
Astoria saw the small campfire on a hill overlooking the Black Lake, and the two women sitting beside it. These women, her sisters in all but blood, had crafted the spell that ended the Dark Lord. Together, the three of them had given Harry the tool he needed. Nor had this been the only spell they came up with over the course of the war.
As she sat down, Luna Lovegood offered her a butterbeer. She took it without comment, opening the cold bottle and taking a long drink. She raised an eyebrow at Luna's unusually serious expression, only to see the blonde nod toward their companion.
Hermione Granger had two books out in front of her, reading by the soft light of the fire. Her butterbeer was untouched. They had seen that Hermione before - she was working on a problem.
"You know the war ended, right?" Astoria asked, lightly. Hermione looked up, and smiled at her as if seeing her for the first time. She didn't even notice me walk up, thought Astoria.
"I know, Tori. I know it." The relief was plain in her voice, and it clicked all at once - this was how Hermione relaxed. The pressure of the second blood war having washed away, Hermione threw herself into a new project.
Or, rather, an old one.
"She's trying to figure out why the Strike hex was so overpowered." said Luna.
Astoria looked from gryffindor to ravenclaw, blonde to brunette. Then she sipped her butterbeer and shrugged. "If it was going to misfire, it picked a hell of a time. I'm not worried."
Hermione gave a quiet huff. "Say Harry becomes an auror, Tori."
"Never gonna happen."
That got a huff from Hermione. "Fine, but say he does. And he uses that hex on a suspect, and liquefies them. Can you imagine the paperwork he'd have to do?" Astoria could see the smile starting to show itself on Hermione's face, and knew she was not entirely serious. Paperwork would be the least of Harry's problems at that point. But her main point was sound.
With a sigh, Astoria moved to sit next to Hermione. "Alright, fine, we need to figure it out. So we know he cast it in his off hand, while casting a high drain spell with his wand hand. So," She took another sip. "Did he botch the wand movement?"
"He did," answered Luna. "Hermione and I already watched the memory. We just need to figure out which part was missing."
Astoria looked at the notes, and thought back to the duel. The sun setting over the Hogwarts grounds, the light, the shadow, the flares of magical power illuminating the dusk⦠Nothing stood out as a reason for the spell to be so overpowered.
She thought of the wand, which had shot up into the air. Straight up into the air. Oh, oh no.
"I know what happened." said Astoria, quietly. Both girls looked at her, but said nothing. "Do you remember, Hermione, when you had to explain that most spells have to account for the motion of the Earth? The rotation, the movement around the sun?"
Hermione nodded. That night had quickly turned into an all nighter, as Hermione patiently discussed orbital movements and escape velocity and other concepts more mundane than magical. Astronomy class had always focused on the influence of the moon and stars on magical energy - but spent little time discussing the Earth's place in those movements.
"Take apparition," she had said. "You're not appearing at a location on the planet's surface, you're appearing where that location will be when you arrive. The planet has turned slightly in those ten seconds or so, and then we remember that the Earth is moving around the sun as well. All of those movements are part of the apparition magic."
Hermione remembered that conversation well - and what it meant. "Oh, oh Merlin."
Luna took another drink, before realizing that her butterbeer was empty. She had not noticed.
The pieces were putting themselves together in Hermione's mind. Astoria shook her head at the madness of it all. Looking up at Luna, she explained. "Harry changed the part of the movement that cancels momentum." Her eyes met Luna's, and she almost willed her friend to understand. "He cancelled all of Voldemort's momentum."
Luna's smile remained unchanged, even as she spoke. "But he was standing still," she said.
"The planet wasn't." said Astoria.
Hermione took her now warm butterbeer and drained it. Then she looked at her friends, her allies on this adventure into spellcrafting. Astoria saw the haunted look in her eyes - for who wouldn't be troubled by the realization?
"If it hadn't been sunset, the spell would have driven him into the planet," said Hermione quietly. "Or, rather, it would have driven the planet into him."
"Oh, Merlin, indeed." said Astoria.
"Yes." agreed Hermione. "The spell hit Voldemort, and sent him into the sky at about thirty kilometers a second, give or take." She shook her head, taking the fresh butterbeer from Luna. "If he had remained, well, intact, we might never have known what happened. He would have just disappeared."
oOoOoOoOo
Astoria closed her eyes, sipping her butterbeer. No one would ever question the effectiveness of that spell, since everyone would assume that its results were due to Harry's magic, and not due to a botched spell. But we will know, she thought, to herself.
She felt a cold butterbeer being pressed into her hand, and opened her eyes to see that Luna had gotten three more out. Hermione, still a bit stunned, looked at her blonde friend. Astoria did as well, though she thought she had a better idea what Luna was doing.
Unperturbed, Luna Lovegood looked at them both. "That spell goes into a grimoire. Agreed?" Astoria nodded, and saw that Hermione did the same. "Good." said Luna.
Once they crafted a grimoire, any spells they put inside could be protected by family magic. Harry's, presumably, seeing as he was the last Potter and knew the spell already. He could allow them access as he wished, and may already have done so when he brought them under the House of Potter's protection during the war.
There were other ways to allow access. During those long days in hiding, he had teased the three that he would marry them all one day, as they had saved his life many times over. Each had laughed at the prospect, of course. Some more than others, thought Astoria.
Astoria watched as Luna grabbed a fourth butterbeer, and held it up over her shoulder. A hand reached out of the darkness and took it. Their visitor took a long pull from the bottle before letting out a satisfied sigh.
"Welcome, Harry," said Luna, brightly. With a grin, Harry Potter removed the invisibility cloak.
"Ladies," he said. He gave them a broad smile, before sitting down next to Luna. He raised his bottle, extending it to the group. Astoria raised hers as well, and was joined by Hermione and Luna. All four were smiling now, bolstered by the look of relieved calm on their friend's face.
"A toast," said Harry Potter. "To the spellcrafters who won the war."
A/N: Many authors keep a collection of loosely interconnected one-shots of various types. This one is mine. Do not expect a massive interconnected story spanning the post-war years. Nor should you expect any in-depth exploration of this Hermione/Luna/Astoria/Harry dynamic I seem to have created on the fly. Bits of that may work their way in, of course, but only as a way to frame what we're really here for - ludicrous spellcrafting.
See a spell you want to use in your fic? Take it! I may do the same, if one of these works in another story. Please consider letting me know if you do, of course.
Expect no regular updates, here, at all - for reals, this time. Harry Potter, et al, and the Keystone Council is my focus at the moment, so long as prompts and one-shot ideas don't distract.
Feedback, as always, is welcome.
