rebuilding a broken kingdom
CHAPTER 1 – the king and the saviour
Colour lit up the night sky as spells continued to fly around with the enthusiasm of many fighting for their futures and their lives. To some, it was a vision of brutality and pleasure, of untamed thrills and desecrated righteousness. Of impending power, a future to be feared and anticipated. The destiny of wizardkind was to be determined on this night. If it was already pre-determined, by the Prophecy, then he had won. Harry Potter was dead!
How could so many people rely on such an insignificant child? Dumbledore was a fool to entrust the wizarding world to one person, to sacrifice his hopes and dreams for the future on the shoulder of a single prophecy. Surely he should have done everything in his power to prevent the prophecy from playing out, rather than tossing the boy to his death, ensnared in a false sense of hope. Harry Potter was just a boy after all.
Lord Voldemort, reformer of the wizarding world, stepped out from the depths of the Forbidden Forest into a clearing just shy of what he knew to be Hagrid's hut. Or what was left of it at least. There were a couple bodies strewn in the wreckage, and Voldemort was delighted to see a girl who could be no older than 16 among them. The other body looked to be a Death Eater, one of his loyal following, but it didn't particularly faze him. After all, fate had already decided, hadn't it?
The sun was setting, a sliver of orange lighting up the sky in the horizon far beyond the castle. And the castle was a delightful sight to behold. So long, the stronghold of his greatest enemy, and now relinquished. It had been in his power this past year, but it still delighted him to see it submit to his will forcefully. Parts of the wall had collapsed, as well as a couple of towers, and there were lights streaming from the inside, only to die down and share the fate of its caster.
Fate. Voldemort didn't particularly believe in the art of divination, and would fight against what any prophecy or Seer foretold. But it was still nice to have fate on his side. Because, Harry Potter was finally dead.
Lord Voldemort took a couple more steps towards the castle, glee painted on his face. And they noticed. His loyal Death Eaters drew back to his side, grinning as they indulged in the ecstatic glow of their Master.
With a voice that everyone could here, Lord Voldemort spoke out. "Harry Potter is dead!"
Shock littered the battlefield as students and parents and Order members paused, allowing the remaining Death Eaters to slip away to the side of their Master. The doors that led into Hogwarts castle slammed shut, as one individual was alert enough to use the opportunity to segregate the children inside from the inhuman malice that is Voldemort.
Fear dawned on the warriors that remained outside. In all senses of the word, today, they were warriors. They were mainly Order members and a group of students from the Defense Association, the troupe that had defended the inhabitants of Hogwarts from all the cruelties of the year and had inspired hope for survival and a future to depend on.
Voldemort was 100 meters from the doors where the warriors had gathered, those that had not fallen at least. Nagini snaked his way across the grass, gliding with effortless ease as she wound her way to her Master and the Death Eaters that had fallen back behind him. There were about 30 left, and most of them were not in very good shape. The re-emergence of their Lord had saved them, given them hope for their future and long-awaited glory.
A white hand stretched out into the air, beckoning for everyone and everything to cease, as Voldemort boomed out again with his magically-enhanced voice, like acid. "Your resistance was most spectacular and I applaud the effort through which you have come together to oppose me. However, I must ask for your surrender if you value the lives of all the children gathered here." He paused for a second, observing the group of warriors that were stationed as guards to the occupants of the castle. "I must impress on you the fact that Harry Potter is dead."
The Death Eaters hung back on their Master's orders as Voldemort stepped forward, slowly but surely. Only Nagini accompanied him, snaking forward 10 meters in front of her master, hissing her victory song.
The group of warriors remained frozen, but now their mouths were moving. Fear and apprehension was tossed out as the future of the wizarding world in Great Britain was decided in a matter of seconds. A sword was sheathed, the Sword of Gryffindor.
Scared eyes littered the windows of Hogwarts castle, watching the muddy school grounds prepare to transform into a killing zone once more. All was silent save for the scurrying of medi-wizards and –witches and the mournful wailing that would never end.
Neville Longbottom took five steps forward, his lips moving to issue commands to the eight men and three women that accompanied him. Kingsley Shacklebolt was there, face contorted in rage as he silenced all complaints. Neville would handle the Dark Lord, the remainder would see to the Death Eaters. "The sword must be trusted," were the words of the boy, King of the Hogwarts Defense Association.
The Sword of Gryffindor glinted in that last tinge of daylight as it stretched out pointing towards Its' enemy. Shacklebolt's hoarse voice rang out, "hang back, until the Death Eaters make their move." All but one pair of feet stopped, stilled by fear and a discipline to follow through on the orders that would give them the best chance of victory. Neville continued forward. He was now alone, and he was confident. The sword would not let him down and he would not let It down.
"We refuse your future, and we will continue to fight for our lives." The voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt rang out everywhere, with the aid of the sonorous charm, thundering with the calm power of strength. It was like a mountain was formed there, high as the sky and wide as the horizon. Neville smiled subtly at the power of the words of this man, and remained silent. Words were not his strong suit, he would lead his kingdom by action instead.
Voldemort's wand rose with the effort of his spindly white fingers as he chanted quietly. The wind caught the words and brought them to Neville's ear, a hissing whisper that could only be Parseltongue. Gryffindor was to meet Slytherin this night, the bravery of a young man to collide with the ambition of Death itself. Lord Voldemort's lips curled together, baring the white glint of thirsty teeth.
"Behold the outcome of your foolish decision. Behold, precious warriors, the power of the heir of Slytherin!" The sky above the Elder Wand of Lord Voldemort lit up in the green that had been long associated with death. Lights shimmered and waved as the darkening sky revealed its secret. Wings stretching 20 meters on each side unfurled, and the contour of a falcon revealed itself, the Snake of Death perched on its shoulders, gleaming in white light.
With a point of the Elder Wand, it rose high above the battleground, and swooped. "AVADAAAA KEDAVRAAAA!"
Screams could be heard in the castle, eyes being shielded as bodies collapsed in despair, whimpering at their impending death. But the warriors did not move. They did not flinch as Neville stabbed his sword forwards towards the forest directly to his east, and then slashed horizontally so it was pointing to the greenhouses directly to his west. With a piercing scream of defiance, Neville drove the sword vertically so it was pointing to the half-moon that had made its appearance directly above the castle.
And then they watched. They watched as the fiery, green falcon swooped down on orders from the Snake of Death that had been summoned by Lord Voldemort. They watched, eyes wide, as the warriors held their ground 10 meters behind Neville Longbottom, who's eyes were glaring at fiery death. The falcon screeched and spread to its full width as it collided with air, a glimmering white plane appearing at the tip of the Sword of Gryffindor, stretching out from the greenhouses to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, stretching upwards to where it dissolved in the light of the moon's glow.
The air shook violently, the plane of translucent, white light shattering as the falcon screeched once more, singing of its death. Green light exploded into orange, lighting the sky in balls of fire like a thousand suns. The fireballs splayed and crashed downwards randomly, exploding onto the castle and into the Forbidden Forest and the grounds in between, bowling over the ranks of Death Eaters and scattering the warriors, the protectors of Hogwarts. It was like a meteor shower, beautiful and deadly.
But Hogwarts held. The walls would not topple so easily. The warriors survived, getting to their feet and holding their position, grimacing at the fiery hell that tore through the Death Eaters. Robes were aflame, twisting in the night air like a flickering fire. And a howl of anger rang through the night. Voldemort had avoided the fiery meteors, but his spell had failed. They all stood in front of him, led by that boy whose hair was alight with a bright red fire, pain etched on his face but nevertheless still standing.
"Nagini!" The snake shot out at the words of her Master, darting towards that kingly boy who had been able to stop Slytherin himself. Her teeth were bared as she coiled herself, using the length of her form to propel herself at the boy. His hair was consumed by fire, but he still saw her, and with expert skill he rolled to the side and swung the Sword of Gryffindor downwards with all his might.
Nagini flew in two different directions. Her slick body swung forwards, knocking into Neville's knees and chest heavily, bringing him to the ground. Her head was thrown backwards, separated from the body that she had grown accustomed to, toppling to her Lord's feet. With a lifetime of regret, and a twinge of sadness, Nagini's eyes went out forever.
Neville recovered quickly, struggling to his feet as he caught the furious eyes of Lord Voldemort. East, West, Moon. With three quick strokes Neville set up his shield once more as a volley of curses flew from the wand of the Dark Lord. The fire on his head had disappeared as a cooling sensation passed over him, relieving him of that pain that he had almost forgotten about.
Death Eaters scrambled forward, those that hadn't burned to a crisp, and Shacklebolt led his force into action. All around Neville the sky lit up as the final battle commenced.
East, West, Moon. Neville scrambled to keep up with Voldemort, who was flinging hex after hex, most of them killing curses. There was nothing else to do but defend, he was just too fast. But he was tired, he was drained. That falcon spell must have taken a lot out of him. Neville grimaced as he retraced the motions to set up his shield, looking behind him to see Arthur Weasley hurling hexes with blinding speed at the Death Eaters that were approaching, hiding behind Neville's shield expertly.
Neville gave him a quick look, and Mr. Weasley understood as he sprinted westwards out of the safety of the shield, casting three colourful spells towards Lord Voldemort as he did so. The distractions proved to work well as Neville took the opportunity to break the shield and lunge forwards with his sword, feeling the satisfying resistance of contact as he sliced into Voldemort's right arm. Voldemort faltered and took a couple steps to his left, his right arm flaccid, but he recovered quickly.
Neville was barely able to block two hard strokes aimed at his neck as he faltered back this time. Lord Voldemort was wielding a black, magical sword in both hands, swinging at Neville ferociously; his eyes alight with the thrill of the battlefield. Bright white sparks lit up the night air around them as the swords clashed, straining against each other as their wielders danced under the moonlight under an array of red and green and white and yellow and blue.
Neville attacked the weakened right side of Voldemort. Where was his wand? Why isn't he using it? They came closer to the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest as Voldemort continued faltering leftwards. But his strokes were still powerful, causing Neville's hands and arms to wring and ache, to plead for rest from this agonizing ordeal. Neville held on though, stumbling on a muddy patch as he slid to the ground. He rolled away from a black flurry, panting heavily, sending more sparks into the air where his sword had blocked.
Getting back on his feet, Neville saw Voldemort's face go white in shock at something behind him. He took the chance! Driving forwards, the Sword of Gryffindor thrust itself into the stomach of the Dark Lord, Neville's body driving against the surprisingly light structure that was his enemy. They both collapsed to the muddy ground as Voldemort gasped and wrapped one arm around Neville's neck tightly, the other outstretched so that long white fingers were pointing at something.
Neville directed his eyes to look, following those of Voldemort, and gasped as he saw Harry Potter, looking perfectly fine, as if nothing had happened. A wand was outstretched in his hands, the Elder Wand.
"You..." Voldemort's hiss was not pleasant at all as his body convulsed violently, arm still hooked around Neville's neck, drawing out his breathe. Neville was going purple as he focused on driving the sword upwards, tearing into the chest of the Dark lord. A terrified look cast over Voldemort as Harry's lips started to move.
"Avada Kedavra."
An anguished scream rang in Neville's ear for a long time as oxygen finally escaped him, providing him with overwhelming darkness instead.
And they watched. The eyes of children littering the windows of Hogwarts watched in terror and fascination, in joy and despair, as Harry Potter stepped out of the Forbidden Forest. He bent down and picked up a wand and pointed it towards the convulsing Dark Lord, while Neville Longbottom, their king, choked and sputtered, maintaining his grip on the Sword that was now deeply embedded. With a flash of green, two disappeared and one remained.
Harry Potter stood trembling at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the bright moon gleaming off his spectacles. Lord Voldemort had finally been vanquished for good.
END OF CHAPTER 1
[ A/N: Please tell me what you think. Reviews will be much appreciated. I was thinking of doing a one-shot but I have more ideas, so that's why I had Neville disappear in the end (don't worry he's still alive :3). If I continue with this it will be a post-war story mostly based on Neville and Harry, will not be epilogue compliant ideally (I hate the epilogue), and it will have some very interesting twists. I don't have much experience writing so I'd like some feedback pls, let me know if I should continue or not, thanks! Oh and this'll be based on canon heavily but AU with regards to certain aspects, like how I changed up the battle a bit and I think I may want Snape to survive, haven't decided on that yet, and I want to use cooler magic than JK used, etc. I don't like how JK killed off so many characters that I loved (Snape, Fred, Tonks, Lupin) so I might keep one or more of them alive for the sake of using these characters and maybe kill off someone I don't like so much. I have ideas, but I need your feedback plssss! Thanks.
Oh and I'm sorry about the changing perspectives. Tell me if it's annoying, and whatever else I need to fix up. Keep in mind I haven't edited this at all. ]