Dumbledore's Army
End of an Era: Harry's Story
A/N: this fic is dedicated to Paul, who not only gave me the idea, and helped me to write the first chapter, but who inspires me and encourages me far too much J
Harry was floating. Or possibly swimming. Cool, aqua water surrounded him as he moved forward.
But this wasn't like the water that he'd experienced during his fourth year when he'd had to go into the lake to retrieve Ron.
Unlike the lake water, this water was crystal clear, and easy to move through.
There was also a conspicuous absence of grindylows and the very homely mer-creatures.
In fact, there were no creatures, now that he thought of it.
He continued his half-float, half-swim, seeming to know where he was going, his body on auto-pilot.
And suddenly, he stopped where he was as he moved over a small hill, a bright light seeming to appear out of nowhere, dazzling him for a second.
Until he focused on the thing he had come for.
There it stood, in the middle of the dazzling white light, remaining dark, a thin veil draped over it.
His stomach turned as he recognized it, as he realized where he had ended up.
The archway. Faint whisperings rumbled from behind the veil, but he knew better than to get any closer.
He closed his eyes, remembering the last time he had come face to face with an archway such as this.
His godfather's face still haunted him, every time he closed them.
But when he opened his eyes, yet another face loomed in front of him.
"Harry, I'm sorry, but this is the only way. You know what you must do," Albus Dumbledore's blue eyes pierced his, gazing apologetically, but determinedly over his half moon glasses.
And then, before he could stop him, or say anything, Dumbledore had turned and walked through the archway.
"Dumbledore! No!!" Harry shouted after him as the scene changed
rapidly.
He was now in the center of the Forbidden Forest, the bright dazzling white light and the cool, aqua water replaced by a veil of darkness, tree branches jutting out ominously, a dark figure crouched on the ground, flashes of green light erupting around him.
"Not so powerful without your wand, are you old man?" a horrible voice echoed, bouncing off the nearby trees, the only sound in the forest.
"Your Order has fallen, and even the creatures you believe to have harmonized themselves with you and your school have deserted the forest. Even your favorite boy is not here to save you."
"Crucio!"
Harry's scar seared with pain as Dumbledore twitched from the curse.
But he did not wake up, as per usual.
The Occlumency lessons had been aimed to combat just such a situation. He had thrown himself into them, and yet the dreams had persisted.
The only thing that was of small 'comfort' was that Dumbledore had assured him that Voldemort would not be able to get into his mind to control him, nor would he be able to make him see anything else.
So, instead he saw that which was actually happening.
"Had enough?"
Dumbledore held his head high.
"No," he answered strongly.
"Crucio." Another searing pain in his scar, and Dumbledore was twitching on the ground again.
"Harry, can you hear me?" he yelled.
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but found he could not. Instead, Voldemort spoke in his place.
"He can, but don't think he will be coming to your rescue. He won't wake up until we're quite through."
At those words, Harry attempted to thrash in bed, attempted to scream, willed himself to wake up.
"Dumbledore, Dumbledore!" he tried to yell. "I'm here!"
But no sound came out.
"Harry, it is alright," Dumbledore said quietly between curses, as if he could hear him, even though Voldemort had plainly said he could not.
But Voldemort could be lying... right?
"Dumbledore, I don't know how to help you! Tell me how!" Harry shouted, a very panicky feeling rising within him as he struggled even harder.
Inside his head, Voldemort's laughter echoed, growing louder and louder as the intensity of the pain in his scar seared.
"Just remember, Harry," came Dumbledore's voice yet again. "I am not the one who needs to go on. Not anymore. You know what you must do..."
His voice trailed off as another flash of green light hit his chest.
Without hearing the words, or seeing Dumbledore faint, his eyes lifeless, staring up at the sky above the forest, Harry knew what had happened.
"Dumbledore!" he shouted again, still desperately trying to wake up as his head seemed to split in two from the pain caused in his scar, and as he could feel tears stinging his eyes.
"Whuzzat?" Ron's voice broke through the dream-induced confusion.
"What's the matter? What's going on?" Ron's voice became more urgent, and Harry had to pull himself out of the haze.
He stared, wide-eyed, at his ginger-haired best friend.
"Voldemort," he whispered.
Ron managed not to flinch upon hearing that name, which would have made Harry proud under ordinary circumstances. "What?" he asked, likewise whispering.
"He's got Dumbledore."
"C'mon, then," Ron said, grabbing his wand with one hand and Harry's
sleeve with the other. "Let's go! Where?" he asked, without stopping
on the way to the door.
"No," Harry stood up sadly. "You don't understand. He's gotten to
Dumbledore. Dumbledore's..." he trailed off, unable to say the words.
No matter how many people he'd watched die, he had never imagined this
could be possible.
The only one He'd ever feared. The only one standing between the two
and what must happen.
Ron shook his head, silently denying Harry. "No, that's wrong,
Dumbledore can't - it's a trick, He's playing another trick on your
head Harry, Dumbledore can't be DEAD!" he said, his voice rising
shrilly on the last.
Absentmindedly pulling on the nearest robes, which just happened to be
his graduation robes, Harry glanced at the clock, suddenly
understanding.
It was almost time for graduation. He couldn't say why, perhaps
because of Dumbledore, but they needed to be there.
And after, he would find Voldemort and finish it.
He had to.
Dumbledore had told him he knew what to do.
And this was what he had to do.
"Let's go," he said gruffly.
Ron shook his head again, but it was clear he understood as well.
Drawing in a deep breath, Ron finally nodded at Harry. "Right," he
said, stepping aside to let Harry lead the way.
Harry stopped in front of Ron, gripping his shoulder for a moment.
"Ron... thanks," he said clumsily, not bothering to elaborate on the
thanks, as it was a joke in the face of seven years of loyal
friendship, almost like brotherhood.
"Oi, Harry. It's me," Ron replied nervously. What else could he say at this point?
"Just keep your wand out," Harry muttered in response, leading Ron down the hall, his face grim as they headed towards the Great Hall, where the Commencement was to be held.
Ron nodded and followed Harry down the tangle of staircases. The castle seemed quiet and still - and Harry was sure that wasn't just his imagination. Where were the ghosts? Why had all the portraits fallen silent?
And when they reached the Great Hall, what would they find? That was the worst question, and the one Harry refused to answer in his mind.
"Harry Potter! Harry Potter!" a small voice squeaked up at him.
Harry looked down to see Dobby, the house elf, bobbing alongside them.
"Harry, you is missing your graduation. Professor Dumbledore told me to make sure that you did not!" Dobby announced nervously.
At the mention of Dumbledore's name, Harry's stomach turned angrily, and guiltily.
"It's starting, Harry Potter, sir! It's starting now!" Dobby squeaked, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him towards the Great Hall.
Harry had no time, nor did he have the heart to argue, so instead he allowed Dobby to lead him towards the Hall, his insides churning, trying to shake the fear of going into the hall full of students and parents and not finding Albus Dumbledore leading the ceremonies, as he had for decades.
But maybe... maybe it was a trick again. Maybe he'd get there, and find Dumbledore, smiling down at them proudly.
He quickened his step, praying for that.
Once inside the hall, his heart sank. At Dumbledore's place stood Professor McGonagall, her face a mask of worry.
She was the only member of the Order who was not, at the moment, in St. Mungo's sustaining severe injuries, or… worse.
Again, Harry thought guiltily of what he must do.
What he should have done already.
He had to face Voldemort.
Had to kill him.
It was the only way to put an end to this.
Professor McGonagall pretended not to take notice of them as they entered the hall late, to the stares of all the students and parents seated at the hundreds of folding chairs that had been set up in the hall.
But Harry could tell from the slight, grave nod that she gave that she had, indeed noticed them, and that she was suspecting, if not certain of, the same thing they feared.
"The end of an era is upon us," she continued, as if they had not interrupted her speech at all, as if whispers had not rushed through the hall.
Harry sat down, surveying his fellow students, many of whom had silver chains glittering from their necks, disappearing into their robes.
His own pendant felt smooth and cool against the thin t-shirt he wore underneath.
Guardians, they'd called them. Hermione had figured out how to enchant the pendants. They would
only work once, but they would recreate a shield charm, protecting the wearer from any curse that would come their way-giving those who wore them time to realize that they were being cursed, and prepare themselves to fight back.
They had passed them out to everyone who would take one, which happened to be almost everyone in the school, save for the Slytherins, and the few who still refused to believe Voldemort was back, or that Harry was anything more than a raving lunatic.
Harry caught Neville's, then Ginny's, then Hermione's eye, nodding slightly to each of them, not wanting them to, but knowing they needed to catch his meaning.
Something was happening. He didn't want to admit, even to himself, what. But they'd talked about this. Planned for this.
He had explained to them that he alone needed to face Voldemort.
"But Harry, you can't!" Hermione's voice rang in his ears.
But he had to.
Even she'd come to understand that, eventually.
"All of you sitting here before me today have proved yourself ready to move on. Ready for whatever you shall meet as you move from childhood to adulthood," Professor McGonagall continued, catching Harry's eyes, and then raising her goblet to him, to all of them.
"And for this, I am proud to call myself your teacher. Proud to present the Class of 1999," she looked around, and Harry thought he could catch the slight bit of shakiness in her voice, but no one else seemed to notice.
"Shall we continue, with the presenting of the diplomas?" She waved her wand over the table, and a stack of gleaming blue orbs appeared, each hovering just a few inches above the table.
"Abbot, Hannah!" Professor McGonagall said loudly as Hannah Abbot stepped forward, her orb flying towards her and unfurling itself into a shining piece of parchment, with her name glowing brightly, underneath the Hogwarts crest.
Harry watched as the diploma rolled itself up into the glowing orb and flew back into Hannah's hand. She turned to sit down, but just then, the Great Hall, which had been shining brightly with the sunlight coming from the enchanted ceiling, was plunged into darkness.
Before he could register what had happened, Harry felt his insides turning to ice, and then heard screams.
He stood up quickly, pointing his wand at the sides of the room, which were crowded with hooded figures, moving in on them ominously.
"Expecto Patronum!" he hollered, as several voices all around the room did the same.
The D.A. meetings had continued on after their fifth year, every term rowing in number. The 'Army' was ready - or at least, as ready as it could be.
Harry turned as several silver figures appeared, all charging at the outer walls. But he ignored the figures, which lit up the room, eyes searching for him.
"Stupefy!" Ron yelled, because the Dementors weren't the only ones they had to worry about. With a certain malicious glee, he watched Draco Malfoy just barely evade four hexes. His own target, a Death Eater who looked a good bit like Marcus Flint, collapsed in a heap just as the Great Hall became pure pandemonium.
Hexes, curses and spells were flying in all directions. His stomach twisted into knots as a good third of the students went down in the first insane volley of magic. Most got up again, but many did not. And then he didn't have time to worry about it. There were too many Death Eaters, too many Dementors, and - God! - even a black-clad giant had appeared out of nowhere and was using a length of the Slytherin table as a club.
"Stupefy!" Harry chimed in, pointing at another Death Eater, who toppled - not before setting the robes of a nearby Ravenclaw on fire.
The plan, Harry thought desperately, stick to the Plan!
The Plan - get Voldemort away from the mass of his followers so that Harry could have a chance, however slim, of taking him down.
Harry looked nervously at Ron as many of the students fell. But he was still standing, as were the rest of the members of the inner circle of the D.A. - Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Dean and Luna. He again met each of their eyes and nodded. It was time to get Voldemort alone.
At once, the others pointed their wands towards the Death Eaters at the entrance to the hall, clustered around the very person he needed to get at.
A volley of curses flew back and forth as they defended themselves. But it wouldn't be enough.
"Harry, we have to do something," Ron hissed urgently. "We have to do it now," he added, raising his voice slightly.
"Do it," Harry hissed back, catching the eyes of the rest of the members in the Young Order and nodding. They all nodded back.
"Do the spell," he hissed, trying to find Voldemort amidst the crowd, already moving around his friends, not wanting to leave them, but needing to finish it. To do what he had been foretold to do so many years ago.
Ron tucked his wand away, clearly reluctant to do so. But they wouldn't need wands for this spell, according to Hermione. Still, Harry thought, his wand still out as he would not be participating, it seemed odd. Especially with the battle raging around them. The 'Inner Circle' formed a real circle, around which another circle of students - guards - cannon fodder - gathered, and locked hands. Then they began the chant they'd spent a month practicing. To his surprise, Harry felt the magic crackle through the room almost instantly. A few seconds later and it seemed to take over. Their mouths moved, but the voice spilling from their lips was like none he'd ever recognized. And it was just one voice.
And then the spell was cast. Every Death Eater, every Dementor, all the enemies of the School in the Great Hall were suddenly knocked down, overwhelmed by the mass hex that shot golden bolts of light outward in all directions.
All except one...
Harry didn't stop to be impressed by the spell, even though it had never worked this way in practice.
In fact, it hadn't worked at all. Wouldn't, Hermione had informed them, unless there was absolute need for it.
"Get him!" Harry heard Ron shout even as he'd begun to run towards the one who was his destiny.
"Hey, Voldemort," he said boldly, stepping towards the tall hooded figure. "It's time to stop hiding," he said boldly.
"I am the one who is hiding? Who has been hiding for the last seventeen years?"
Harry knew what was coming even before it happened, and ducked out of the way as green sparks flew towards him, punching a hole in the doorway that he had just gone through.
A few seconds later, Voldemort burst through the doorway, wand out.
"Expelliaramus!" Harry shouted, even as Voldemort aimed his wand at him and shouted "Crucio!"
As they had before, the two wands emitted colored jets of light, hitting each other inbetween the two, and creating a golden cage around them.
But this time, the cage carried them up and through the ceiling, punching a hole in it, and yet still carrying them further, until they had landed themselves on the all-too-familiar steps up to the headmaster's office.
Voldemort looked around, a strange grin on his face as the wands began to vibrate.
"So this was his office. It's unoccupied, you know. It won't be sealed properly until they've replaced the old fool."
"Shut up!" Harry shouted as his wand grew so hot and so heavy, vibrating so violently that he was sure he would drop it.
But he had held on longer than this before. And he would not drop his wand. He wouldn't let Dumbledore down.
Concentrating even harder than before, the memory of Dumbledore fresh in his mind, he forced the stream of light back towards Voldemort's wand, seething with an anger that he had never attempted to harness.
But even the anger would not be enough, he knew this.
He had learned that not only could you not do an effective Cruciatius Curse without truly enjoying the pain it would cause, but that the same held true for Avada Kedavra.
And he would not, could not turn himself into a monster. Could not feed off the death that it would cause, reveling in it with glee, as he needed to do to finish this.
Even if it would save lives. He could not.
He wouldn't betray the memory of those who'd died helping him to get to this point.
The question was, how would he stop Voldemort?
How could he kill him, when as soon as they released these wands, Voldemort would point his, and finish it before he could even come up with a plan.
"Harry," came an all too familiar voice.
Harry looked up sharply, at first thinking that he must be seeing
things.
And then, he remembered. This had happened the last time he had pitted his wand against Voldemort's.
Albus Dumbledore smiled at him, in that way he did when he was certain Harry would be figuring something out, overcoming an obstacle.
"You know what to do. What you need is very nearby. When I tell you to, let go. You know what to do."
More figures appeared from the end of the wand, interlaced with echoes of screams that Harry knew could only come from Voldemort's other favorite curse: the Cruciatius.
And then, the figures turned to him, and Dumbledore caught his eye and nodded.
"Remember the Prophecy, Harry!" he shouted, and then they all turned on Voldemort, forcing him back.
Harry, who hadn't been sure what to do until the moment Dumbledore had met his eyes, dropped his wand from the beam of light as soon as they turned on the Dark Lord, pointing it instead at the closed door of Dumbledore's office.
"Accio sword!" he said clearly, and before Voldemort could fight off the ghosts of spells, the shadows of people whose lives he had ended, a sword, bedecked with glittering rubies had flown through Dumbledore's office door and straight into Harry's waiting hand.
"Expelliaramus!" Harry hollered, pointing at the hunched figure as the silvery-gray ghosts disappeared.
And before Voldemort could dive for his lost wand, Harry was upon him.
"Not the same without your wand, are you?" he said angrily slashing the sword at Voldemort, moving in on him, preparing himself to fight off the man that had taken so many people from him, that had torn so many families apart.
Dumbledore. Mr. Weasley. Sirius. His parents. Neville's parents...
"Neither are you," Voldemort growled back, catching his sword with a dagger he had pulled from his cloaks, and then slashing at Harry's wand hand, causing him to drop his wand.
Harry ignored the pain in his hand where he had been slashed, transferring the sword to his wand hand, despite the fact that it was throbbing where he had been sliced through.
"You'll never stop me. Don't you understand?" Voldemort sneered, forcing Harry backwards, his dagger battling furiously against the sword. "If you kill me, I will return, ten times as strong. This is how it will be."
"I believe you don't understand," Harry replied cooly, despite the fact that sweat was trickling down his brow, and he was struggling to get the upperhand. "You never did get to read the Prophecy, did you?"
Voldemort's dagger fell back a little bit and he gaped at Harry in surprise.
"You didn't either," he shot back.
"No, I didn't. I heard it firsthand from someone who witnessed it," Harry replied with a small, grim smirk, moving forward and thrusting his sword into the only weak spot he could find.
As the sword sank in, the man that had brought an end to so many lives faltered, falling back against the wall, and sinking to the ground, blood oozing from the place where the sword had impaled him.
"Neither can live while the other survives," he whispered, staring at the body in shock, trying to tear his eyes away from the dripping blood and failing.
"Harry? Harry!" Ron's voice cut through the hush that had fallen in the aftermath. "Harry?" the voice came again, even as Harry determined to ignore it.
Unable to pretend his best friend wasn't there, Harry looked up at Ron, then pushed himself up using the sword. The two boys stared at each other for a moment.
"Harry?" Ron asked again.
Harry gave Ron another look, opened his mouth as if to say something, and then just shook his head. "Goodbye. Tell Hermione - tell Ginny - goodbye, okay?" he asked.
"What - wait!" Ron's voice came after him, even as Harry stepped aside and closed his eyes, somehow knowing that he would be able to do what had been impossible in Hogwarts under Dumbledore.
A soft pop echoed in his ears as he disappeared from the only home he'd ever known.