The Walls of Hogwarts
Summary: The Final Battle…enough said
Rating: PG-13
Warning: There is blood and people do die in this. Just though you ought to know.
Spoilers: A little from both OotP and HBP
If the Walls of Hogwarts could speak, what would they say if given the chance? The memories of such a place are ancient and never ending. The walls had witnessed everything that had ever happened since the very conception of such a place as Hogwarts. Among all their memories which would they speak of? Would they speak of the awesome magic made within their safe barriers? Would they speak of the history made within their confines? Would they speak of the love witnessed or epic betrayals or great trials? Or would they tell of the Final Battle within the walls of Hogwarts that claimed the life of the Saviour of the Wizarding World?
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Light conversation filled the Great Hall and laughter floated up to the enchanted ceiling. Students milled around mingling, flirting and having fun. All present enjoyed themselves throughout the night; all silently dreading the fast approaching end to holiday festivities in a few days. Each savored the Yule Ball like a morsel of sweets melting on the tongue. Few did not attend such a lighthearted occasion. Among them was the famous Boy Who Lived.
Seventh floor corridor, third door to the left. The Room of Requirement.
A cauldron sat amidst a pile of books bubbling contentedly. Dobby the house elf watched it diligently as ordered. Silently he stirred the concoction twenty times counter clock wise and then added a vial full of dark viscous liquid. The mixture frothed violently and the house elf cast a woeful glance to the far corner of the room. There sat our dark haired saviour on a thick blood red pillow.
He was silent and staring unblinkingly at the heavy wooden door to the room. Barriers to his mind were slowly being built to create thick impenetratable walls that with hope none would be able to break. These walls were crucial to his plan. Crucial to the survival of the wizarding world.
Blinking, Harry Potter's face set resolutely as he stood, finally prepared. A shudder rocked the castle and Harry knew it was time. Without a word he summoned his wand and shouldered his robes on, covering his battered clothing. "Is it ready Dobby?" he asked approaching the cauldron and the house elf. The house elf nodded not trusting himself with words. He bent his head down as one lone tear trickled from his eyes down his long nose and splashed to the floor. "No tears Dobby", Harry reprimanded softly as he drew the house elf into a quick embrace. "No tears Harry Potter", Dobby agreed with water filled eyes. Harry released him and strode to the door; shouldering his great burden as yet another tremor shook the castle.
Screams echoed down the corridors as masked terrors swathed a great path through the people before their master. Teachers were up in arms and herding students to hiding places. Curses and spells were flying through the air when from the chaos emerged a man. Shadows surrounded him and trailed after him like robes. A sneer graced his inhuman features and struck a fine tremble of fear through the souls that fought bravely against the infiltration.
The Dark Lord was among them.
Students and teachers alike fell to the Unforgivables. Screams wrenched themselves from throats as the cruciatus spilled pain into fighting bodies and students attacked their teachers with blank faces. Dozens were falling to the awesome and frightening powers of the dark side.
Where was the warning that such an attack was coming? Where were the valiant knights that were supposed to save the weak? Where was their Saviour?
The hearts of many broke simultaneously as the great Albus Dumbledore turned and fled, followed by a band of students. Why was he leaving them? Terror set in promising them a painful end to life at the hands of these murderers of children. What did it matter to the fallen now that their leader had left them? What did it matter now?
Where was the Justice? Where was their Saviour?
The Dark Lord let loose a great high-pitched laugh at the fleeing form of Dumbledore and his entourage. "Where is your great leader now? Where is Dumbledore's Army? Where is your Saviour NOW?" he screeched at the ones left behind. His own army cackled and let fly new curses with a renewed vigour.
Despair. Pain. Fear.
Was this what Hogwarts had been reduced to?
Where was their Saviour?
"Tom Riddle!"
A forceful shout rang from the top of the stairs leading to the entrance hall. All paused in battle to see who dared challenge the Dark Lord, who was yet to raise a hand. An evil smile curled itself across the Dark Lord's lips as he gazed up to meet the eyes of the Boy Who Lived.
Hardened green eyes stared down to meet red. Seventeen years had worn hard on the boy and it showed in those eyes. " You could have been great you know. Side by side with me, we would have ruled. It's all there, admit it, in the back of your mind you know you have a burning desire to flatten all who oppose you", said Voldemort, " but now look what you are reduced to!" The Dark Lord would never admit it but he had wanted the boy as his right hand. The raw power and fury that etched itself into Harry's very being was enough to rival or even surpass his own. What a tool he could be.
Harry waited. He gave no response. He just stood at the top of the stairs watching as the Dark Lord strode to the staircase, parting the sea of bodies before him effortlessly. "Make no mistake Potter, there is nothing for you now. Accept your imminent demise!" Harry white knuckled his wand, waiting for that moment to draw the disgusting piece of filth that called himself Voldemort into the intricate webbing of his plan.
Voldemort continued to belittle Potter as he ascended the stairs. Within just steps of him Potter did something that both surprised and befuddled him. He turned and ran.
The Dark Lord signaled to his lackeys and was soon not far behind.
Harry took off down the corridor faster than he had ever run in his life. He made wild turns on the way but unbeknownst to Voldemort there was a method to the wild flight.
Faster and faster he went with Voldemort still trailing behind him. With a last burst of speed he jet down the hall until suddenly he made a wild left turn into a room. Voldemort was not far behind.
The Room of Requirements was scattered with people, Dumbledore among them. Wands were drawn and at the ready. The Death Eaters crowded behind their fearless leader.
Ronald Weasley stood at the head of his fellows, lips curling in animalistic hunger. In a flash he crouched to the ground and where a fiery haired boy had once been stood a golden lion. The embodiment of Gryffindor let out a roar and the Knights of Dumbledore's Army surged forward.
Time slowed for an instant before the sides of dark and light crashed together. Hand to hand combat ensued followed by curses and spells. The mighty Gryffindor lion let out furious growls and roars as he swiped at the heads of the despicable excuses for wizards.
None of the ongoing battle deterred the Dark Lord as he cut his way through the fighting people. His red eyes swept the room until they landed on his quarry.
A few yards away, standing in the back of the room protected by a semicircle of DA knights stood the Boy Who Lived. His eyes were closed and his lips were moving furiously as he spoke. In his hands a glowing orb of white light was gathering. In front of him stood a boiling cauldron.
His syllables grew louder before he opened his eyes to reveal that his green irises had bled through the whites of his eyes till there was nothing but green in his eyes. "Move!" he ordered and without hesitation his knights parted, giving him space.
With a grunt of effort the glowing orb was forced hurtling toward Voldemort, who easily deflected it behind him.
Cries of anguish suddenly broke out louder than the battle cries behind Voldemort. The Dark Lord turned wide-eyed to see his Death Eaters fall to the floor, empty shells.
The orb drew the white souls of the death eaters to it like a black hole. When the last were drawn into the whiteness a loud screech emitted from it before it disappeared all together.
Smiles of victory played on the lips of all the knights as they stood to face the thing that had struck the most terror in them all their lives.
"You think that because you stole the souls of my Death Eaters that you have won? You think I still don't own their bodies!" Voldemort shrieked. He waved his wand at the fallen bodies of his followers and before the eyes of the noble knights they rose up once more. Their eyes were empty, devoid of all humanity but they were still loyal to their lord.
Wands disregarded on the floor, the Death Eaters resumed their attack on Dumbledore's Army with their bare hands. When they fell they still did not stop. They climbed back to their feet and continued to grapple with their opponents.
The Dark Lord turned back to Potter. "You see?" he hissed, "Loyal to the death and beyond". An air of calm still exuded from Harry, puzzling Voldemort. This was not the same fearful boy he knew as Harry Potter.
"Loyal to the death", said Harry quietly.
In a wild flurry of movement he tipped the cauldron. The hot liquid spilled across the floor and splashed on the Dark Lord. Within seconds a hissing noise escaped from his body as the form Wormtail had worked to give him was destroyed.
"No Horcruxes to save you now, Tom" hissed Harry.
The red eyes of Tom Riddle looked up at Harry as he sank to the ground in unmistakable fear.
"I will return Potter. Make no mistake. I still have one bit of soul left!" said Riddle.
With a pain filled grimace he collapsed to the floor.
But Harry wasn't done yet.
From inside his robes he unsheathed a dagger the size of his forearm. The silver metal glinted in the light before he took it to his palms. Two quick slices drew thick lines of blood that leaked the precious body fluid. The dagger dropped to the floor, already forgotten.
The battle was still going on around them.
Harry approached and reached out to grasp Voldemort's had firmly between his hands. "This is the end, and you aren't coming back you bastard", he whispered in a hate filled voice.
The red eyes of Voldemort clouded over as his body gave out and released his soul.
Unlike the souls of his Death Eaters, Voldemort's soul had a red glow to it. And unlike the Death Eaters' souls it was trapped. Harry released the empty shell that had been Voldemort and took hold of the struggling soul. The blood that seeped from Harry's hands was absorbed into the soul and it let out a scream.
No human could scream like that.
Then before anyone could move Harry had swallowed the putrid soul. The scream of Voldemort's soul increases and was joined by Harry's screams.
The ground shook violently beneath them all.
Harry's face contorted in pain and his green eyes began to glow. A rolling thunderous noise filled the Room of Requirement that was soon joined with a wailing that was emitting from the shells that were the Death Eaters. Whatever was animating them was being forcibly ripped away.
All the power that had been Voldemort was violently sucked into Harry's convulsing body and in a single moment that stretched for eternity, it all imploded inside of Harry. Waves of the left over power rippled away through the room.
Blood pooled on the floor from Harry's palms. The blood that Voldemort had killed for was what had held him in his final moments. The blood that had finally brought his own final demise.
The silence was unearthly but none could bring themselves to break it.
The Lion that was Ronald Weasley approached and knelt before the fallen empty body before gently picking up and carrying out the Saviour of the Wizarding World.
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Yes. If the Walls of Hogwarts could speak, this is the tale they would tell.
"No Tears"
Author's Note: This was a quick one shot in response to a challenge imposed on me by a friend. She said I couldn't come up with an original Final Battle scene. Well I can't just let that slide so I did my best. I wonder if anyone saw the irony in Voldemort's downfall before it was mentioned… 0o
Disclaimer: This story contains characters, locations, and other random things created and/or owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc., etc. Since no money is being made, no infringement is intended. Section 102(b) of the U.S. Copyright Act states that copyright protection does not extend to ideas, procedures, concepts, principles or discoveries, but the actual words used to express those things.