Harry Potter and the Nineteen Years Adventures
Harry Potter and the Nineteen Years Adventures
Summary: How if… by any chance… I, as an unsatisfied fan of Harry Potter series, decided that after Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, there will be some major chance. There will be no chapter Nineteen Years Later in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. This story will start from the last chapter of Deathly Hallows before the epilogue that entitled as The Flaw in the Plan.
IT IS VERY VERY EXTREMELY IMPORTANT! Don't read this fanfiction before you read this note.
For your attention:
It is needed for you to understand that this story will stick to the Harry Potter book from the first book to the seventh book just before the chapter before epilogue, nothing will change there. There will be major spoiler for those who haven't read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I will also "erase" the Nineteen Years Later part on my version of Harry Potter epilogue. It is heavily recommended for you to read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, at least until the second to last chapter, right before The Flaw in the Plan; I'm afraid you will not get the idea of the story, unless you read it first. It is also very important for you to know that this chapter credit goes to J.K. Rowling wholly, all idea and 95 of the chapter came from the genius authoress, and I just made very little changes here and there. And don't blame me because I cannot hold myself from changing it, it is very important for me to change it. I have some plan for the whole story, and it is started from taking J.K. Rowling writing and changes it a little bit.
Other changes or information will be told later on when the story progresses, but now, on with the story!
Prologue
On a clearing far behind the Forbidden Forest, could be heard hurried footsteps, whispers, and solicitous murmurs that filled the air.
"My lord… my Lord…." Spoke Bellatrix Lestrange, as if to a lover. "My Lord…"
"That will do," said Voldemort.
There were more footsteps: several people were backing away from the same spot.
Voldemort got to his feet. Various Death Eaters were hurrying away from him, returning to the crowd lining the clearing. Bellatrix alone remained behind, kneeling beside Voldemort.
And Harry Potter: laid facedown on the ground; his left arm bent out at an awkward angle, and his mouth gaping, unmoving.
Voldemort had fallen to the ground, and the Death Eaters had been huddled around the monster. He had collapsed, briefly unconscious but had returned now.
"My Lord, let me—"
"I do not require assistance," said Voldemort coldly, and Bellatrix withdrew a helpful hand. "The boy… Is he dead?"
There was complete silence in the clearing. Nobody approached the fallen boy, but their gaze concentrated on the unmoving body of the Boy-Who-Lived.
"You," said Voldemort, pointed Narcissa Malfoy, and there was a bang and a small shriek of pain. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."
Narcissa Malfoy moved to the body of Harry Potter. She bent low on her knee and sneaked her hand under the body. She waited for a moment, before she withdrew and sat up.
"He is dead!" Narcissa Malfoy called to the watchers.
And now they shouted; now they yelled in triumph and stomped their feet. And burst of red and silver light shoot into the air in celebration.
"You see?" screeched Voldemort over the tumult. "Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! Crucio!"
And Harry Potter's body was subjected to humiliation, as to prove Voldemort's victory. The body was lifted into the air, and thrown once, twice, three times: the broken glasses flew off but the body stilled floppy and lifeless, and when the body fell to the ground for the last time, the clearing echoed with jeers and shrieks of laughter.
"Now," said Voldemort, "we go to the castle, and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag the body? No—Wait—"
There was a fresh outbreak of laughter, and Rubeus Hagrid was released from his captive, after watching how Voldemort casts the Killing Curse to Harry, how Harry's body was humiliated by Voldemort, how, Harry didn't ever fight those.
"You carry him," Voldemort said. "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—"
One of the Death Eater's slammed the glasses back onto Harry Potter's face with deliberate force, but Hagrid lifted the body into the air with exceeding gentleness. Hagrid's arms trembled with the force of his heaving sobs; great tears splashed down on the body but the body stilled.
"Move," said Voldemort, and Hagrid stumbled forward, forcing his way through the close-growing trees, back through the forest. Branches caught at Harry Potter's hair and robes, but he lied still quiescent, his mouth lolled open, his eyes closed.
"BANE!" bellowed Hagrid, "Happy now, are yeh, that yeh didn' fight, yeh cowardly bunch o' nags? Are yeh happy Harry Potter's—d-dead…?"
Hagrid could not continue and broke down in fresh tears. Some centaurs were watching their procession pass; some of the Death Eaters called insults at the centaurs as they left them behind.
"Stop," said Voldemort when they had reached the edge of the forest.
Hagrid lurched a little. And a chill settled over them where they stood, where the dementors patrolled the outer trees.
Voldemort passed close to Hagrid, and he spoke. His voice magically magnified so that it swelled through the grounds.
"Harry Potter is dead. 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 a proof that your hero is gone.
"The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumbered 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, you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will alive and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."
There was silence in the ground and from the castle.
"Come," said Voldemort and he moved ahead. He strode in front of them, wearing the great snake Nagini around his shoulders, free of her enchanted cage.
"Stop."
They came to a halt: they spread out in a line facing the front doors of the school. The front doors then opened, and the streamed of red light showered them.
"NO!" screamed McGonagall in despair, and it was visible that Bellatrix glorying in McGonagall's despair. Then the survivors of the battle came out onto the front steps to face their vanquishers and see the truth of Harry's death themselves.
Voldemort stood a little in front of Hagrid, stroking Nagini's head with a single white finger.
"No!"
"No!"
"Harry! HARRY!"
Ron's, Hermione's, and Ginny's cries were even worse than McGonagall's despair. The crowd of survivors took up the cause, screaming and yelling abuse at the Death Eaters until—
"SILENCE!" cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and silence was forced upon them all. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"
And Hagrid lowered Harry onto the grass.
"You see?" said Voldemort, striding backward and forward right beside the place where the body of Harry Potter lied. "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!" yelled Ron, and the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second and more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more.
"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," said Voldemort with relish in his voice for the lie, "killed while trying to save himself—"
But Voldemort's word was cut off: there was a scuffle and a shout, then another bang, a flash of light, and a grunt of pain. Someone had broken free of the crowd and charged at Voldemort: the figure hit the ground, disarmed, wand thrown aside. Voldemort laughed.
"And who is this?" he said in his soft snake's hiss. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"
Bellatrix gave a delighted laugh.
"It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"
"Ah, yes, I remember," said Voldemort, looking down at Neville, who was struggling back to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, standing in the no-man's-land between the survivors and the Death Eaters. "But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?" Voldemort asked Neville, who stood facing him, his empty hands curled in fists.
"So what if I am?" said Neville loudly.
"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 there was an answering cheer from the crowd, whom Voldemort's Silencing Charms seemed unable to hold.
"Very well," said Voldemort, and there were more dangers in the silkiness of his voice than in the most powerful curse. "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head," he said quietly, "be it."
The Voldemort waved his wand and seconds later, out of one of the castle's shattered windows, something that looked like a misshapen bird flew through the half light and landed in Voldemort's 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," said Voldemort. "There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom?"
He pointed his wand at Neville, 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 watching crowd in front of the castle, and as one, the Death Eaters raised their wands, holding the fighters of Hogwarts at bay.
"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," said Voldemort, and with a flick of his wand, he caused the Sorting Hat to burst into flames.
Screams split the dawn, and Neville was aflame, rooted to the spot, unable to move.
And then many things happened at the same moment.
They heard uproar from the distant boundary of the school as what sounded like hundreds of people came swarming over the out-of-sight walls and pelted toward the castle, uttering loud war cries. At the same time, Grawp came lumbering around the side of the castle and yelled, "HAGGER!" His cry was answered by roars from Voldemort's giants: They ran at Grawp like bull elephants, making the earth quake. Then came hooves and the twangs of bows, and arrows were suddenly falling amongst the Death Eaters, who broke ranks, shouting their surprise.
In one swift fluid motion, Neville broke free of the Body-Bind curse upon him; the flaming hat fell off him and he drew from its depth something silver, with a glittering, ruby handle—
The slash of the silver blade could not be heard over the roar of the oncoming crowd or the sounds of the clashing giants or of the stampeding centaurs, and yet it seemed to draw every eye. With a single stroke Neville sliced off the great snake's head, which spun high into the air, gleaming under the light that flooding from the entrance hall, and Voldemort's mouth was open in a scream of fury that nobody could hear, and the snake's body thudded to the ground at his feet—
Suddenly, a Shield Charm cast between Neville and Voldemort before the latter could raise his wand. Then, over the screams and the roars and the thunderous stamps of the battling giants, Hagrid's yell came loudest of all.
"HARRY!" Hagrid shouted. "HARRY—WHERE'S HARRY?"
Chaos reigned. The charging centaurs were scattering the Death Eaters, everyone was fleeing the giants' stamping feet, and nearer and nearer thundered the reinforcements that had come from who knew where; great winged creatures soaring around the heads of Voldemort giants: thestrals and Buckbeak the hippogriff scratching at their eyes while Grawp punched and pummelled them; the wizards, defenders of Hogwarts and Death Eaters alike, were being forced back into the castle. Jinxes and curses were shoot at any Death Eaters visible, and they crumpled, not knowing what or who had hit them, and their bodies were trampled by the retreating crowd.
Inside the castle, across the room, backed into the Great Hall, Voldemort firing spells from his wand, still screaming instructions to his followers as he sent curses flying left and right; more Shield Charms were casted and Voldemort's would-be victims Seamus Finnigan and Hannah Abbott darted into the Great Hall, where they joined the fight already flourishing inside it.
And now there were even more people storming up the front steps. Charlie Weasley overtook Horace Slughorn, who was still wearing his emerald pyjamas. They seemed to have returned at the head of what looked like the families and friend of every Hogwarts student who had remained to fight, along with the shopkeepers and homeowners of Hogsmeade. The centaurs Bane, Ronan, and Magorian burst into the hall with a great clatter of hooves, as the door that led to the kitchens was blasted off its hinges.
The house-elves of Hogwarts swarmed into the entrance hall, screaming and waving carving kitchens and cleavers, and at their head, the locket of Regulus Black bouncing on his chest, was Kreacher, his bullfrog's voice audible even above this din: "Fight! Fight! Fight for my Master, defender of house-elves! Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!"
They were backing and stabbing at the ankles and shins of Death Eaters, their tiny faces alive with malice, and everywhere, Death Eaters were folding under sheer weight of numbers, overcome by spells, dragging arrows from wounds, stabbed in the leg by elves, or else simply attempting to escape, but swallowed by the oncoming horde.
But it was not over yet.
Voldemort was in the center of the battle, and he was striking and smiting all within reach. Yaxley slammed to the floor by George and Lee Jordan, Dolohov fall with a scream at Flitwick's hands, Walden Macnair thrown across the room by Hagrid, hit the stone wall opposite, and slide unconscious to the ground. Ron and Neville brought down Fenrir Greyback, Aberforth Stunning Rookwood, Arthur and Percy flooring Thicknesse, and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy running through the crowd, not even attempting to fight, screaming for their son.
Voldemort was now duelling McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley all at once, and there was cold hatred in his face as they wove and ducked around him, unable to finish him—
Bellatrix was still fighting too, fifty yards away from Voldemort, and like her master she duelled three at once: Hermione, Ginny, and Luna, all battling their hardest, but Bellatrix was equal to them.
"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"
Mrs. Weasley threw off her cloak as she ran, freeing her arms. Bellatrix spun on the spot, roaring with laughter at the sight of her new challenger.
"OUT OF MY WAY!" shouted Mrs. Weasley to the three girls, and with a swipe of her wand she began to duel. Molly Weasley's wand slashed and twirled, and Bellatrix Lestrange's smile faltered and became a snarl. Jets of light flew from both wands, the floor around the witches' feet became hot and cracked; both women were fighting to kill.
"No!" Mrs. Weasley cried as a few students ran forward, trying to come to her aid. "Get back! Get back! She is mine!"
Hundreds of people now lined the walls, watching of the two fights: Voldemort and his three opponents, Bellatrix and Molly.
"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" taunted Bellatrix, as mad as her master, capering as Molly's curses danced around her. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"
"You – will – never – touch – my – children – again!" screamed Mrs. Weasley.
Bellatrix laughed, the same exhilarated laugh her cousin Sirius had given as he toppled backward through the veil, and suddenly Harry knew what was going to happen before it did.
Molly's curse soared beneath Bellatrix's outstretched arm and hit her squarely in the chest, directly over her heart.
Bellatrix's gloating smile froze, her eyes seemed to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed.
As Voldemort's fury at the fall of his last, best lieutenant exploded with the force of a bomb, McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slughorn blasted backward, flailing and writhing through the air. Voldemort raised his wand and directed it at Molly Weasley.
"Protego!" roared a very familiar voice, and the Shield Charm expanded in the middle of the Hall, and Voldemort stared around for the source as the movement in the air revealed Harry Potter, pulling the Invisibility Cloak from his body, at last.
The yells of shock, the cheers, and the screams on every side of "Harry!" "'HE'S ALIVE!" were stifled at once. The crowd was afraid, and silence fell abruptly and completely as Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and began, at the same moment, to circle each other.
"I don't want anyone else try to help," Harry said loudly, and in the total silence his voice carried like a trumpet call. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."
Voldemort hissed.
"Potter doesn't mean that," he said, his red eyes wide. "That isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"
"Nobody," said Harry simply. "There are no more Horcruxes. It's just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good…."
"One of us?" jeered Voldemort, and his whole body was taut and his red eyes stared, a snake that was about to strike. "You think it will be you, do you, the boy who survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"
"Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me?" asked Harry. They were still moving sideways, both of them, in that perfect circle, maintaining the same distance from each other, and for Harry no face existed but Voldemort's. "Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn't defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again?"
"Accidents!" screamed Voldemort. "Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and snivelled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!"
"You won't be killing anyone else tonight. You won't be able to kill any of them every again. Don't you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people –"
"But you did not!"
"—I meant to, and that's what did it. I've done what my mother did. They're protected from you. Haven't you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can't torture them. You can't touch them. You don't learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?"
"You dare—"
"Yes, I dare," said Harry. "I know things you don't know, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things that you don't. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?"
"Is it love again?" said Voldemort, his snake's face jeering. "Dumbledore's favourite solution, love, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling from the tower and breaking like an old waxwork? Love, which did not prevent me stamping out your Mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter—and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse. So what will stop you dying now when I strike?"
"Just one thing," said Harry.
"If it is not love that will save you this time, you must believe that you have magic that I do not, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?"
"I believe both."
And there was shock flit across the snakelike face, though it was instantly dispelled; Voldemort began to laugh, and the sound was more frightening than his screams; humourless and insane, it echoed around the silent Hall.
"You think you know more magic than I do?" he said. "Than I, than Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?"
"Oh, he dreamed of it," said Harry, "but he knew more than you, knew enough not to do what you've done."
"You mean he was weak!" screamed Voldemort. "Too weak to dare, too weak to take what might have been his, what will be mine!"
"No, he was cleverer than you," said Harry "a better wizard. A better man."
"I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!"
"You thought you did," said Harry, "but you were wrong."
For the first time, the watching crowd stirred as the hundreds of people around the walls drew breath as one.
"Dumbledore is dead! His body decays in the marble tomb in the grounds of this castle, I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return!"
"Yes, he has died. But he died in his own manner of dying, planned it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant.
"Severus Snape has ended Dumbledore's life by Dumbledore's own request. He has depicted you from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it. Why? Because of a thing that you have never understand and never want to understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?"
Voldemort did not answer. They continued to circle each other like wolves about to tear each other apart.
"Snape's patronus was a doe," said Harry, "the same as my mother's. He loved her for nearly all of his life, from the time when they were children. You should have realized, he asked you to spare her life, didn't he?"
"He desired her, that was all," sneered Voldemort, "but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him—"
"Of course he told you that," cut Harry, "why would he tell you the truth when he was a spy for Dumbledore? When he pretended to be your most loyal servant? Do you know that Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him? Do you know that it was Dumbledore's own request for Snape to finish him?"
"It matters not! It matters not whether Snape followed my order or Dumbledore's, or what petty obstacles they tried to put in my path! I crushed them as I crushed your mother, Snape's supposed great love! Oh, but it all makes sense, Potter, and in ways you do not understand!
"Dumbledore was trying to keep the Elder Wand from me! He intended that Snape should be the true master of the wand! But I got there ahead of you, little boy – I reached the wand before you could get your hand on it; I understood the truth before you caught up. I killed Severus Snape three hours ago, and the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny is truly mine! Dumbledore's last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!"
There was silence on them, as Harry's expression showed something unreadable; pity, sorrow…
"Indeed, you held it," said Harry. "You're right. But before you try to kill me, I'd advise you to think about what you've done and try for some remorse, Riddle….
"It's your one last chance, it's all you've got left. Because I've seen what you'll be otherwise. Be a man and try for some remorse…"
"You dare—?" said Voldemort.
"Yes, I dare," said Harry, "because Dumbledore's last plan hasn't backfired on me at all. It's backfired on you, Riddle. Again."
Voldemort's hand was trembling on the Elder Wand, and Harry gripped Draco's very tightly. The moment was seconds away.
"That wand still isn't working properly for you because you murdered the wrong person. Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore."
"He killed—"
"Aren't you listening? Snape never beat Dumbledore! Dumbledore's death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die undefeated, the wand's last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand's power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!"
"But then, Potter, Dumbledore as good as gave me the wand!" Voldemort's voice shook with malicious pleasure. "I stole the wand from its last master's tomb! I removed it against its last master's wishes! Its power is mine!"
"You still don't get it, Riddle, do you? Possessing the wand isn't enough! Holding it, using it, doesn't make it really yours. Didn't you listen to Ollivander? The wand chooses the wizard…. The Elder Wand recognized a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realizing exactly what he had done, or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance…."
Voldemort's chest rose and fell rapidly, and the coming curse could be felt; it built inside the wand pointed at the boy's face.
"The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."
Blank shock showed in Voldemort's face for a moment, but then it was gone.
"But what does it matter?" he said softly. "Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: We duel on skill alone… and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy…."
"But you're too late," said Harry. "You've missed your chance. I got there first. I defeated Draco weeks ago. I took his wand from him.
Harry twitched the hawthorn wand, and the eyes of everyone in the Hall fell upon it.
"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" whispered Harry. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does…. I am the true master of the Elder Wand."
A red-gold glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time, so that Voldemort's was suddenly a flaming blur. A high shriek voice was as Harry yelled pointing Draco's wand:
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
The bang was like a cannon blast, and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead centre of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided. Everybody could see Voldemort's green jet meet Harry Potter's spell, see the Elder Wand fly high, dark against the sunrise, spinning across the enchanted ceiling like the head of Nagini, spinning through the air toward the master it would not kill, who had come to take full possession of it at last. And Harry, with the unerring skill of the Seeker, caught the wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hand, staring down at his enemy's shell.