Chapter 1
Potter Canon: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Chapter 34
The Age of the Dark Lord has begun.
Bold=Canon and Voldemort
Normal=Fiction
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Harry's Perspective
"I was, it seems… mistaken," said Voldemort.
"You weren't."
Harry said it as loudly as he could, with all the force he could muster: He did not want to sound afraid. The Resurrection Stone slipped from between his numb fingers, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw his parents, Sirius, and Lupin vanish as he stepped forward into the firelight. At that moment he felt that nobody mattered but Voldemort. It was just the two of them.
The illusion was gone as soon as it had come. The giants roared as the Death Eaters rose together, and there were many cries, gasps, even laughter. Voldemort had frozen where he stood, but his red eyes had found Harry, and he stared as Harry moved toward him, with nothing but the fire between them.
Then a voice yelled: "HARRY! NO!"
He turned: Hagrid was bound and trussed, tied to a tree nearby. His massive body shook the branches overhead as he struggled, desperately, pitifully.
"NO! NO! HARRY WHAT'RE YEH -?"
"QUIET! YOU HALF-WIT OAF!" shouted Rowle, and with a flick of his wand Hagrid was silenced.
Bellatrix, who had leapt to her feet, was looking eagerly from Voldemort to Harry, her breast heaving. The only things that moved were the flames and the snake, coiling and uncoiling in the glittering cage behind the Dark Lord's head.
Harry could feel his wand against his chest, but he made no attempt to draw it. He knew that the snake was too well protected, knew that if he managed to point the wand at Nagini, at least fifty curses would hit him first. And still, Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth.
"Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived."
None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, her eyes wild. Harry inexplicably though of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips upon his-
The Dark Lord had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear -
He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.
Voldemort's Perspective
"I was, it seems… mistaken," said Voldemort, his silk-like tone tinged with slight uncertainty and a pinprick of disconsolation. He was wrong. The boy had not shown himself. Maybe he was wrong about Potter's morals, after all.
"You weren't."
Voldemort froze instantly at the confident voice: had his mind betrayed him?
He revolved his body slowly, tentatively, as if unsure of what he would find behind him. Relief washed through his body; alas, before him, looking like the smug little hero Voldemort always knew him to be, stood the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter.
The Dark Lord's scarlet eyes instantly became ablaze with malicious arrogance.
Of course he could not have been mistaken: the Potter boy's unfailing sense of comrade-preservation would undoubtedly undo him. It was quite sickening; how he would lay down his own life in exchange for the measly existences of Muggles and Mudbloods. Voldemort smirked, his lips curving into a malevolent grin: Harry Potter's final downfall would be due to his own disgusting morals.
Now, as he looked down upon his bespectacled, pitiful opponent-
"HARRY! NO!"
The crazed bellow sounded from somewhere behind and to the right of Voldemort's position. Voldemort jerked his head toward the sound.
Hagrid, the inane, half-giant groundskeeper, who probably couldn't tell his right foot from his left, stood helplessly bound to a large tree, his dirt-covered features distorted in terror and franticness.
The Dark Lord's crimson eyes slit in annoyance at the dim-wit's shout of desperation.
Foolish oaf.
"NO! NO! HARRY WHAT'RE YEH -?"
Voldemort opened his mouth to silence the boor, but Rowle beat him to it.
"QUIET! YOU HALF-WIT LOUT!"
A bang echoed through the clearing as Hagrid was silenced. The attention shifted back to the two nemeses, who now stared one another down.
The time had come.
"Harry Potter," he said, a cruel air of complacency surrounding his cold, high voice. "The Boy Who Lived."
Voldemort smirked with cruel satisfaction as the boy briefly twitched.
"Come to die."
Potter's expression clouded over, growing distant. Perhaps he's contemplating his own naivety. Away with these thoughts: the deed must be completed.
The Dark Lord nonchalantly raised his wand.
He cocked his head ever so slightly, as doubtful thoughts poured through his mind. Will he die? Truly? He must; there is no other way. He banished the thoughts as he prepared to utter the curse.
Ruby eyes bored into emerald ones.
"Avada Kedavra."
A green flash filled the clearing. And with that, The Boy Who Lived fell before him, dead.
..:0:..
Voldemort's Perspective-(Chap 36)
Voldemort staggered.
Clutching his chest with his non-wand wielding hand, he roughly dropped to the forest floor on one knee. A blinding pain had erupted from the centre of his breast, as if he had been dealt a harsh blow from a hammer. Voldemort's mind raced wildly, searching for a conclusion to the unexpected pain.
What had happened? Had the curse affected him, as it did Potter? What could this mean?
Suddenly, within the deep recesses of Voldemort's dark and tortured mind, everything clicked.
A part of his soul must have perished along with Potter. A seventh Horcrux.
But was the boy really dead?
Voldemort was abruptly torn from his thoughts as his minions surrounded him, their squawks of concern reaching his ears. Devoted Bellatrix reached down and grasped ahold of his right arm, which was resting upon his knee, crying out,
"My Lord, let me-."
Irritation coursed through him, much like the kind that would be derived from an irksome mosquito.
"I do not require assistance," he bit out, throwing Bellatrix aside forcefully. Rising to his feet and drawing up to his full, intimidating height, he refocused upon the crumpled boy before him. Calling out to the general audience, he asked,
"The boy… is he dead?"
No one made effort to respond to Voldemort's inquiry.
Feeling his irritation beginning to return, he peered around the forest clearing, his gaze halting upon the presently terrified visage of Narcissa Malfoy. His snake-like face twisted in spite.
Her.
"You," he said, shooting a hex at Narcissa. She yelped in pain. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."
She stumbled forward towards the carcass of Potter. Voldemort watched intently as the Malfoy woman knelt beside the corpse, seemingly checking for vitals. After several long, drawn-out moments, Narcissa stood up rigidly straight. She faced the crowd, and called to the onlookers,
"He is dead!"
Instantaneously, the air enveloping Voldemort exploded with cheers of triumph and wild stamping of feet. Red and silver curses shot into the air, illuminating the gleeful faces of the Death Eaters. Bellatrix shouted jeers at Potter's deceased form. Over the commotion, he even heard the strangled bawls of the mangy groundskeeper. For the second time in that hour, relief flooded through his body.
He let out a jubilant cry.
"You see?" Voldemort screeched over the tumult, his eyes feral. "Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! Crucio!"
Voldemort watched in licentious delight as Potter's lifeless body was lifted violently into the air. It soared about, jerking and twisting; once, twice, three times, his body bent into grotesque and unnatural shapes.
He cackled, a cold and mirthless sound that was a thousand times reciprocated throughout the clearing.
He had won! The Boy Who Lived was dead before him; fallen by his own hand! With Potter gone, no one, Order of Phoenix or not, could touch him now! The last bastion of their foolish virtues, Hogwarts, was seconds away from his unsullied conquering!
"Now," said Voldemort, and the revelry ceased immediately, "we go to the castle and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag the body?" he glanced around the clearing, his eyes falling upon the sobbing groundskeeper. "No-. Wait-."
He flicked his wand, and Hagrid fell to the forest floor, rid of his bonds. With another flick, the beastly man was forcefully up-righted, standing stiff as a board.
"You carry him," Voldemort said, his voice alive with exuberance at Hagrid's extreme distress. "He will be nice and visible in your arms, will he not? Pick up your little friend, Hagrid. And the glasses-, put on the glasses-, he must be recognizable-."
The Death Eaters howled with laughter as Hagrid gently picked up the boy and Dolohov subsequently slammed the glasses back onto their owner's face. Their mirth increased as Hagrid began to sob harder, great tears falling upon the figure in his massive arms.
Through the pandemonium of levity, Voldemort's voice rang out,
"MOVE!" he commanded, and Hagrid stumbled forward at the swish of his wand.
So began the victorious army's progression through the Forbidden Forest; the croons and crows of the Death Eaters and the sobs of Hagrid creating a massive uproar: surely Hogwarts would now be aware of its defeat, thought Voldemort.
The Dark Lord himself marched at the helm of his legion, his face twisted in a mixture of smugness and jocularity. To his right, Hagrid bumbled along, Potter's body in his tree-trunk-like arms. Directly behind the two, the battalion of Death Eaters whooped and hollered, marching jubilantly through the forest, and further behind them, two colossal giants, Prometheus and Polyphemos, clambered. The enormous feet of the giants' pounded the earth and caused it to tremble in their wake.
The triumphant progression marched on, birds and animals fleeing its path; the resulting din could be heard miles and miles away. As they began drawing closer to the forest edge, Voldemort heard a pained, yet livid bellow to his immediate right.
"BANE!"
Voldemort turned his head slightly in the direction of the shout: it was Hagrid; his angry shout directed at a small band of centaurs, far off to their right, who were silently observing the joyous promenade.
"Happy now, are yeh, that yeh didn't fight, yeh cowardly bunch o' nags? Are yeh happy Harry Potter's- d-dead-."
The asinine beast-man could not continue his tirade against the by-standing centaurs, for he was overcome by a fresh wave of sobs. Voldemort silenced the hairy half-giant with a flick of the Elder Wand. Behind him, the Death Eaters shouted scattered insults at the centaurs, which were falling farther and farther behind the procession.
As they neared the very edge of the forest, Voldemort cried out, his voice as cold and clear as the daybreak:
"Stop!"
Voldemort heard the entire Death Eater brigade come to an instant halt, and Hagrid lurched to a sojourn beside him. The leader of the conquering promenade silently raised his hands to the sky, inhaling deeply of the air. A frosty chill suddenly fell upon the procession, akin to someone dumping a bucket of ice-water upon their heads. Dementors, black and gaunt against the cold, dreary sky, circled about the air above Voldemort's army. The Dark Lord lowered his arms.
Raising his wand to his throat, he pressed the tip of his wand into the hollow of his neck,
"Harry Potter is dead," came his cold voice, magically amplified, "He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your precious hero is indeed gone."
"The battle is won. You have lost half your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and your lives shall be spared. Your parents and children, brothers and sisters shall live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."
Voldemort's smooth voice died away, echoing throughout the land. Minutes passed, with Voldemort's impassioned elocution being met by a resounding silence from the castle and its grounds. Removing his wand from its position at his neck, he turned to Hagrid.
"Come, you miserable oaf."
Voldemort embarked forward, and Hagrid jumped to a start, forced to follow. The Dark Lord reached one arm down as he walked, and Nagini, the great snake, slithered up his outstretched limb and draped itself around his shoulders. The Death Eaters, following their master, began their forward march once more, paired with gleeful shouts and yells.
"Harry," sobbed Hagrid. "Oh Harry… Harry…"
"Quiet, fool! Or you shall become like your dead friend!" Voldemort spat, looking back upon Hagrid's weeping form.
Voldemort returned his head to its original forward pose, and found they were now very close to Hogwarts castle.
"Stop."
The ensuing army came to a quick halt at his command. At a quick motion of his hand, the legion of Death Eaters began to filter out; forming a sideways line that stretched out on either side of the Dark Lord, who remained in the center. Eagerly, they waited.
Slowly, the defeated began to flow from the Entrance Hall.
At any moment, they would recognize the corpse of their savior, lifeless in the arms of Hagrid.
"NO!"
The scream came first from Minerva McGonagall, who led the conquered out onto the grounds. Bellatrix erupted into a fit of laughter from Voldemort's right; glorified in the old woman's despair. As the entrance began to fill out with the survivors, more screams of despair and anguish rented the air.
"No!"
"No!"
"Harry! HARRY!"
Voldemort rotated his head towards the last shouts, recognizing the broken faces of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, Potter's little sidekicks. A sneer crossed the Dark Lord's face. They should have known it would end this way.
The cries from Potter's sidekicks acted like a trigger; the crowd of survivors took up the cause, hurling obscenities and abuse at the Death Eaters. Voldemort became furious.
"SILENCE!" he cried, and thrust his wand into the air with ferocity. A loud bang and a flash sounded from overhead, and silence was immediately forced upon the ragtag group of resistors. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"
The oaf obeyed without dispute, gently placing the deceased Boy Who Lived at his feet. Voldemort flicked his wand and Hagrid was violently thrown back onto the grass. A few Death Eaters sniggered.
"You see?" said Voldemort, his voice high with contempt. He swung his foot into Potter's body. It tumbled forward and remained limp. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"
"He beat you!" came the wretched, blood-traitor Weasley boy's shout. Voldemort's silencing charm was suddenly broken, and the pitiful defenders of Hogwarts began to shout and scream again; Voldemort flew into a rage.
He extinguished their shouts with a powerful bang from his wand.
"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds!" the Dark Lord screeched, relishing the lie he was speaking. "Killed while trying to save himself-,"
Suddenly, a figure burst forth from the defeated, charging at the line of Death Eaters.
The slightly pudgy, masculine figure made it about halfway between the groups, before Voldemort lazily flicked his wand; the Death Eaters breaking out in peals of laughter as the boy fell to the ground, wandless and yelping.
Voldemort threw the challenger's wand aside and laughed.
"And who is this?" said Voldemort, his voice hissing softly. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"
Bellatrix gave a delighted laugh.
"It's Neville Longbottom, My Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"
Voldemort reciprocated the laugh.
"Ah, yes, I remember," said Voldemort, his scarlet eyes peering down upon Neville, who was struggling back to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, still standing in the no-man's land between the survivors and the conquering Death Eaters.
Voldemort took several vast strides forward, coming to a halt before Neville. The boy was dwarfed by his height, a near seven feet tall.
"But you are a pureblood, are you not, my brave boy?" he asked the little contester, who stood facing him, his empty hands balled into fists.
"So what if I am?" came Neville's loud reply.
"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."
"I'll join you when hell freezes over," said Neville."Dumbledore's Army! he shouted, and a nauseating cheer rose up from the survivors, whom Voldemort's silencing charm seemed unable to contain.
A scorching anger that could have set Hell itself ablaze burned through the Dark Lord's veins, but all that showed was a brief flash in his crimson eyes.
"Very well," said Voldemort, and there was so much hate within his silky voice it was almost tangible. "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head," he said quietly, "be it."
Voldemort raised his wand towards the castle and swished it through the air a single time. Moments later, through one of the castle's shattered windows, something that looked like a misshapen bird flew through the air and landed in Voldemort's outstretched hand. He shook the mildewed object by its pointed end and it dangled, empty and ragged: the Sorting Hat.
"There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School," announced Voldemort. "For there will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom?"
He pointed his wand at the sickeningly valiant, little boy, who grew rigid and still, then forced the Hat onto Neville's head, so that it slipped down below his eyes. There were movements from the surviving crowd, and as one, the Death Eaters raised their wands, holding the contemptible defenders at bay.
"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," said Voldemort calmly, and with a flick of his wand, the Sorting Hat burst into flames.
Screams split the dawn, and Neville was aflame, rooted to the spot, unable to move. Voldemort laughed joyously, and the Death Eaters joined in. He raised his wand a second time, to finish the job-
And then many things happened at the same moment.
An uproar rose from the distant boundaries of the school as what sounded like hundreds of people came swarming over the out-of-sight walls, and pelted towards the castle, uttering raucous war cries.
Voldemort whipped around. Centaurs were charging in from all sides. He swiftly poised his wand, prepared to fight-
"HAGGER!"
Voldemort mechanically jerked towards the strident bellow. A giant lumbered around from beside the castle, yelling "HAGGER!" at the top of its earsplitting voice: Grawp. Voldemort's giants answered the newcomer: with loud cries they charged the opposing giant like bull elephants, causing the earth to quake.
Arrows rained down all around him; the twang of bows and thudding of hooves crashing down upon their ears. With a unified battle cry, the Death Eaters broke ranks, advancing in all directions.
Voldemort looked around at the scene before him. Death Eaters and defenders of Hogwarts clashed in battle, some downed by arrows and some by curses. Potter's body was missing, but there was no time to worry about that-
A loud grunt sounded from behind the Dark Lord.
Voldemort turned.
Neville Longbottom, broken free of his magical bonds, reached inside the still flaming Sorting Hat and extracted something long and silver, with a glittering, rubied handle-
The withdrawing of the sword could not be heard of the roar of battle, yet it seemed to draw every eye-
Harry Potter, under the safety of his Invisibility cloak, fumbled for his wand. He found nothing. His wand had fallen from the depths of his cloak whilst he was carried by Hagrid; an unfortunate twist of fate-
Longbottom dashed for Nagini, the Sword of Gryffindor poised above his head-
But the Dark Lord was faster.
Longbottom dashed madly for Nagini, and Voldemort jerked up his wand, aiming at the boy-
"Avada Kedavra!" he screamed, his silky voice alight with the inferno of his fury.
A flash of green light could be seen from the wand of Lord Voldemort, but the incantation was lost in the din.
The bolt of emerald collided with the boy's chest, but the Blade of Gryffindor found its mark, and the head of Nagini the Great Snake flew high into the air. Voldemort opened his mouth and let out a bloodcurdling scream of fury: a scream so intense it must have shook every bone in that entire field-
The body of Nagini thudded to the ground, and Voldemort fell to his knees, reaching for his deceased snake, and one thought ran through the minds of everyone present in that bloody battlefield-
Neville Longbottom was dead, but he had succeeded in his last attempt to defeat the Dark Lord.
The body of the noble boy crumpled to the earth, a glassy look over his eyes-
"NOOOOO!" came a scream of anguish from somewhere within the heat of battle.
Chaos reigned. The Death Eaters, propelled by their master's defeat of valorous Neville Longbottom, the assumed head of the remaining survivors, rushed forward, shooting hexes and curses into the crowd of defenders, who too were boosted, by the death of Nagini, Voldemort's last form of security.
A reverberating boom crashed down upon the ears of the fighters as one of the Death Eater's own giants crushed the skull of the Hogwart's giant, Grawp; the resulting thud echoing over the battle-
Nagini…
Voldemort kneeled upon the grass, the body of precious Nagini held gingerly in his arms-
"HARRY! WHERE'S HARRY!"
The frantic cry had come from behind him.
I shall have my revenge, Nagini…
Intense wrath surged through Voldemort like magma. Dropping the body of the Great Snake, he rose to his feet with a new, vengeful power.
Voldemort quickly spotted the perpetrator of the shout: Hagrid. He was glancing about wildly, his panicked roars carrying over the cacophonous sounds of war. Hagrid's massive head whipped about, his beard covered in dust and dirt, eyes frantically scanning the blood-stained and ripped turf. Hagrid's eyes fell upon the Dark Lord.
"VOLDEMORT!" he bellowed, raising his arms into a forward position, stretched out, as if to strangle Voldemort. "-HARRY!" was the only distinguishable word in his frenzied outcry.
The half giant rushed forward with the rage of a bull.
The burly groundskeeper was surprisingly quick for his size, but Voldemort was many times more dexterous.
Voldemort swished his wand once, sharply and to the left, and Hagrid's large legs were swept out from beneath him. He crashed to the ground with a loud thud.
"You fool!" Voldemort screeched. "You dare challenge the Dark Lord!"
By the time Voldemort had finished his last statement, Hagrid was already back upon his feet. Voldemort's wand swished again, and Hagrid plunged to the earth once more, face forward.
"Stop, Hagrid! Potter is dead! Join me now, and I will spare you! It is useless to continue this defiance!"
Voldemort flicked his wand upwards, and Hagrid flew up to his knees, immobile. The Dark Lord walked up to him, and jabbed the tip of his wand into Hagrid's enormous neck.
"Join me Hagrid! State your allegiance!"
Hagrid spat at the Dark Lord's feet. "I'll never join yeh, yeh vile-"
Voldemort's eyes slit dangerously, and withdrawing his wand from Hagrid's neck, he flicked it, silencing the half-giant before he could finish his sentence.
"So be it."
Time seemed to crawl to a standstill.
Voldemort lifted the Elder Wand, and stared with eyes slit in detest into Hagrid's now-terrified, dirt-stained face.
A beat passed.
"Sectumsempra!"
A flash of white light emitted from the Deathstick.
An unearthly scream was loosed from the throat of Hagrid, as his massive chest was ripped open by an invisible sword.
The groundskeeper fell to his knees, a river of scarlet blossoming from his breast. He remained upon his knees for several moments, swaying slowly back and forth, before he tipped backwards, toppling to the grassy earth with a thud. He lay upon the ground, extremities twitching, for several minutes, as blood decanted profusely from the wounds upon his chest and out of his open mouth.
Voldemort lifted his foot and brought it down, hard, upon Hagrid's bleeding chest.
"You should have joined me, Hagrid," he started, voice low and hissing like a serpent-
"HAGRID!" came several distressed shouts, and Voldemort smirked: the groundskeeper drew his last breath, and died. The Dark Lord gave a cry of pure ecstasy and levitated the body of the fallen groundskeeper.
"Look! Look my minions! See who I have bested! The beast himself!" he cried in jubilance.
At this sight, the force of Death Eaters gave a unanimous roar of joy and newfound enthusiasm. They whooped and hollered, mocking the lifeless form of Hagrid and throwing hexes at it. All amidst them, some of the defenders of Hogwarts fell to their knees and wept in pure anguish, while others became wild with newborn rage and fought with intensity.
Throwing Hagrid's lifeless body aside with a flick of his wand, Voldemort started forward, straight into the heat of battle.
Another had fallen to the hands of the Dark Lord.