A/N: No one can see Harry underneath the Invisibility Cloak, and Homenum revelio does not work either, as is befitting of a Deathly Hallows item. Also, in my story, Dumbledore was a shade more helpful before his death than in the books. This version of the trio has been previously informed that Nagini is a horcrux. They are also aware that Harry has a piece of Voldemort's soul within him, and that he must let the piece die before Voldemort can be finitely destroyed. Finally, Snape got what he dearly wished and died without anyone knowing of his deep, dark ability to love.
Reviews are greatly appreciated.
…the emaciated figure stirred beneath its thin blanket and rolled over towards him, eyes opening in a skull of a face…the frail man sat up, great sunken eyes fixed upon him, upon Voldemort, and then he smiled. Most of his teeth were gone…
"So, you have come. I thought you would…one day. But your journey was pointless. I never had it."
"You lie!"
"Kill me, then, Voldemort, I welcome death! But my death will not bring you what you seek…there is so much you do not understand…"
"Kill me, then!" demanded the old man." You will not win, you cannot win! That wand will never, ever be yours—"
Silence.
A heartbeat.
Distant explosions.
Harry was jolted out of his trance, allowing himself a fraction of a second to wonder why the memory of that particular vision had come back to him here, now, in the middle of this warzone when there were more important matters at hand.
He crouched low under a large empty canvas whose occupants had likely fled from the chaos. His eyes burned from the smoke that was beginning to emanate upwards, and he could hear the screams and see the jets of light crisscrossing from below.
Elated though he was that the diadem had been successfully destroyed, Harry had been forced to separate from Ron and Hermione after three cloaked Death Eaters had run at them as soon as they exited the Room of Requirement, already beginning to screech a myriad of curses. Hermione, quick-thinking as usual, had blasted part of the ceiling down. The raining brick and mortar shielded the trio from most of the curses while simultaneously burying the Death Eaters whose cries were soon completely silenced. Unfortunately, Harry had been forced to dive to the side and run to avoid the same fate.
'I need to get back around the other side,' thought Harry fervently. Just then, another loud bang from below and a triumphant shriek. There was a beat of silence again, and then the hall erupted into screams of pure abject terror that seemed to reverberate within his very soul. His scar split in two and Voldemort ascended.
Hermione's body wracked with sobs as she pounded desperately on Ron's chest.
"Please get up, R-Ron, no, Merlin, no…"
Hermione raked her hands wildly through her hair as if hoping she could pull the solution out of the bushy mane. Ron lay face up, unresponsive, on the floor. A hole was burnt cleanly through his chest. Through her tears, Hermione could see the floor beneath his body through the hole. Strangely, he did not bleed.
Before succumbing to Hermione's curse, the three Death Eaters had fired off their own curses at the trio. Two of the three curses had shot through the ceiling as their creators' aim had suffered under falling material, but the third's mark was true.
Hermione looked around wildly for Harry, fearing now that he had been buried under the wreckage as well. Her lungs threatened to burst with unrelenting gasps of air, her throat beginning to constrict as she realized she may well have just lost her two best friends in no small part of her own doing.
It was tribute to how distressed Hermione was that she did not notice her wand gently floating upwards and away. By the time she had her wits together and went to retrieve it from the floor, she realized it was gone. In her line of sight she noticed a pair of grey-tinged feet underneath a dark cloak fluttering in a non-existent breeze.
Her insides ran cold as she looked up and then all was black.
Nagini regarded the body on the floor very curiously as she had been wont to do for the past few hours. Her Master had left her alone with the human, and yet expressly forbade her from maiming or consuming it in any way. He had allowed her to consume the other one, which confused Nagini as to what the difference was between the two, but she was loathe to disobey.
The human stirred. Nagini slithered further back into the shadows and continued to observe in silence. She watched it turn over to face the ceiling, quietly, for a few moments, then suddenly leap to its feet. Nagini could not hold back a hiss of surprise, to which the human turned in her direction and screamed.
It awakes…
In an instant, her Master reappeared in the room and Nagini felt a wave of exhilaration. Her Master was clearly pleased. Perhaps the killing time was near.
The human's eyes darted to and fro around the room. As Master began to approach it, it shakily mirrored his steps backwards. Nagini could smell the terror and followed forwards.
He began to speak to her in the common tongue. The human responded in nerves at first, and then appeared to become more defiant as he continued to speak. Nagini reared up and hissed threateningly…what a lack of respect this lowly creature had to dare speak back toward her Master, her life-giver!
Shhh, Nagini…calm…
Nagini closed her mouth and fell back to the floor at once. She watched the creature's eyes follow her movements nervously, some of the previous confidence dissolving away. It would greatly satisfy Nagini when it was time to feed.
Her Master spoke for a few more minutes and then, suddenly, it dropped to the floor, shrieking in agony with fingers desperately clawing at the ground. Nagini and her Master observed the scene quietly before he lifted the spell. It remained motionless apart from drawing ragged gasps. Finally, he turned to face her.
We go now, Nagini. She will keep.
And so they went.
Harry crouched low at the end of a hallway on the fourth flow, hardly daring to breathe. Despite his use of the Invisibility Cloak, he could not help but think that Voldemort would be able to track him down at some point. As if responding to this thought process, his scar had begun to throb painfully a few hours ago. He had felt an imprint of Voldemort's pleasure and envisioned flashes of him directing his snake in front of a huddled mass.
The visions had been too muddy and discrete for Harry to make sense of them through his pounding headache, so he had once again tried fruitlessly to close his mind. 'This is completely pointless,' he had thought to himself with increasing frustration as the ghosts of quiet sobs sounded in his head.
Now, hours later, the same heart-wrenching sobs began again and Harry felt the urge to slam his head into the bust of a short, smirking wizard in a powdered wig beside him.
'It isn't enough that I'm in the middle of a warzone, I have to bloody hear him terrorizing people too, now,' Harry thought angrily. The sobs intensified as Harry attempted to clear his mind. He screwed his eyes shut, willing the voice to just go away, he was doing the best that he could under the circumstances…until he thought he heard a clear word amongst the noise.
Harry…
Harry instantly halted his efforts and listened. His heart began to beat faster. The voice sounded like…
Someone…
There was no doubt. It was Hermione.
Relief flooded Harry as warmth after a Dementor attack. Completely abandoning his plan to stay silent, Harry whispered, "Hermione? Is that you?"
The sobs stopped. H-Harry?
"Hermione! Yes! It's me! Where are you?" he asked. Harry began to look fervently up and down the hallway. She must be nearby, although the hallway seemed to appear empty.
Hermione began to hiccough again. I'm…I'm in some sort of…some sort of room, I d-don't really know…
Harry jumped to his feet and began scanning the hall for doors. The only other doorway was at the end of the hall, and Harry noticed with dismay that it was completely caved in.
"You must be near where I am now, I can hear you," said Harry as he inspected the damage around the door. The pileup around the door was massive, and he did not expect to be able to move it quickly without his own wand. He had to think fast.
Harry, I d-don't think I'm anywhere n-near you. Listen, V-Voldemort brought me here…
Harry stopped moving. "What?"
Just…just make sure you're in a-a safe spot and I'll explain… "I am, I'm fine, I've got the Cloak."
There was a small sniffle. Harry's heart clenched at the sound.
"Are you alright, Hermione?"
I'm alright now. Oh, Harry…I'm so sorry…
"Sorry about what?"
Hermione began to cry again in earnest before whispering, Ron's…he's gone. And it's my fault.
Tears poured in droves down Hermione's face during the heavy silence following her confession. She could almost feel Harry's numbness. If only she could turn back time, save him like they saved Buckbeak and Sirius, but even that hadn't worked out, either.
Finally, Harry spoke. Hermione was alarmed at how completely detached his voice sounded. A fresh wave of tears cascaded down her face.
Okay…okay, we're going to have to, to deal with that…with that later. We need to focus on finding each other now or we'll both be dead, too. Where do you think you are right now? Can you see any windows?
"No…I'm not sure what room this is. I don't even know if I'm still at Hogwarts," replied Hermione, mopping her eyes on her sleeve. "It's just a completely blank room. There's nothing else in here part from me, even the walls are just white with not a single door or scratch on them…"
How can I hear you then?
"I'm not sure. I think it might have something to do with the cursed barrier Voldemort placed on the room and the connection the two of you have. He must be monitoring the room to some degree…so maybe you're getting glimpses into his mind—"
I told you that seeing into his head was going to help us out! Didn't I tell you—
"Oh enough, Harry!" Hermione retorted furiously. "That's just my best guess, I'm not even sure if that's the reason! And, for your information, that might mean he can hear what we're discussing right now!"
Well, there's only one way to find out then, isn't there? If you can hear this, Voldemort, come find me right now. I'm on the fourth floor hallway near a cave-in, there's a statue—
"Harry, no!" cried Hermione, flailing her arms at nothing in particular. She began to reprimand Harry viciously but was relieved to hear no sounds of Harry in pain, which was the usual signal of Voldemort's approach. Hermione tentatively accepted that Harry was safe, at least for now.
Nevermind how this is working, just tell me as much as you can of what you remember. We'll figure this out, 'Mione.
Hermione took a deep breath and began to explain.
"Ron was…he was hit by a curse from one of the Death Eaters. I expect Voldemort knew we were after the diadem and sent the Death Eaters after us because he was right outside the Room of Requirement. He took my wand and…and he must have Stupefied me, because I remember waking up in this room. And seeing the snake…"
Nagini's in the room? asked Harry sharply.
"She was, not anymore. I think she called him because she hissed and he Apparated a few seconds after. He told me that I was lucky to be alive, very lucky, and that he was going to…to find you and put an end to things." She carefully left out his gratuitous use of the Cruciatus curse, knowing it would just infuriate Harry and distract him from her crucial point. "He told me that he finally had…Harry, I think he's got the Elder Wand!"
Harry didn't respond for some time. He was going to get it at some point with Dumbledore gone, anyway.
"You're right, I suppose. But Voldemort, with the Elder Wand…" Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from tearing up again. Everything was going so, so terribly wrong.
Right, I've been thinking about that. I don't think it's as bad as we're thinking, Hermione.
Hermione, who knew Harry to be as brave and headstrong as any Gryffindor, could hardly believe what he was saying. It seemed the perfect nightmare to her: the most powerful Dark wizard with the most powerful Dark wand. Harry seemed to sense her disbelief and began to explain himself.
Dumbledore had the Elder Wand in the Astronomy Tower, but Draco disarmed him before Snape or any of the Death Eaters got there. So Snape thought he was the one that overpowered Dumbledore…which means Voldemort must have gone after Snape to get the wand. But none of them knew—
"You took Draco's wand at the mansion," breathed Hermione, finishing Harry's thought. "Harry, you're the owner of the Elder Wand! It won't work for Voldemort!"
That's what I'm thinking.
"Of course, we're depending upon the fact that Voldemort doesn't know these details, which is possible if Draco told him directly, or if he told his father," said Hermione as if she was explaining an argument in an essay.
I don't think he would have. Voldemort's already not really pleased with the Malfoys, is he? So if they were to tell him they screwed up his order, he'd probably lose his mind…
"That's true," Hermione remarked thoughtfully. It was taking a chance, but if they could formulate a plan to take Voldemort by surprise…
Having gone over the details of their plan several times, Harry told Hermione to be strong and safe and repeatedly expressed his confidence that everything was going to work out. He checked the corridor carefully to make sure no one had slipped in without his notice, then removed his Cloak and carefully wedged it behind the statue of the wigged wizard. Then, he squared his shoulders and marched with determination down the stairs.
It didn't take longer than a few minutes for Harry to reach the Great Hall, yet it still surprised him that he was able to evade notice from the Death Eaters. Sending a silent thank you to Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, Harry pushed open the large doors and listened to the zealous roar of battle die down to a quiet nothing.
Every individual in the Great Hall turned toward him, some still with their arms outstretched in the air as if frozen in the middle of a curse. He could see so many familiar faces and so many unfamiliar, and wreckage so profoundly present that the Hall barely looked as it had during his school days. The shock of seeing the Dark Lord's most prized obsession seemed to remove all thought from his followers, who watched in stunned silence as Harry made his way into the centre of the hall. Once there, he turned in his spot to face the Carrows, who had a similar look of disbelief on their ugly faces.
"Tell your lord I'm here to face him, one on one. Tell Voldemort I'm ready for him," Harry declared fiercely. He heard a screech of laughter from his right and turned to see that Bellatrix Lestrange had entered the hall looking positively gleeful.
"Itty bitty Potter's got some bite, now, hasn't he?" she said with a mad glint in her eye. Before he could respond, Bellatrix lovingly caressed the mark on her forearm and Harry fell to his knees in wretched torture.
He didn't need to hear the collective gasps in the Hall to know that Voldemort had arrived at once. He was dimly aware of Voldemort praising Bellatrix for her quick actions, to which she bowed low and reaffirmed her allegiance.
"Ah, Harry," Voldemort sighed, fixing Harry with his snakelike glare. "I have been waiting for you to finally show yourself."
Every person in the hall had backed away and was now watching with breathless anticipation. Harry managed to stagger to his feet and glare just as intensely back. His fists clenched as he fought to control the pure, deep loathing that had erupted throughout his body, noting with displeasure that Nagini was not, as they had hoped, with Voldemort. He did not react.
"I have been wondering why the Chosen One, if that name is to be believed, has so willingly allowed every one of his colleagues to fight in his place for so long. Not very becoming of a Gryffindor to me, it seems," Voldemort declared nonchalantly. He glided leisurely toward Harry, stepping over the body of a third-year Ravenclaw.
Harry, for his part, did not respond outwardly. He could faintly hear Hermione begging him to explain what was happening, knowing that she must sense from their connection that he and Voldemort stood so near, but he could focus on nothing but the contemptuous scarlet eyes in front of him.
'Remember the plan,' he thought to himself. 'We can restrain him until we find the snake. Just get the wand.'
"You're going to die here, tonight, Tom," Harry replied as calmly as he could. Voldemort had still not drawn his wand, and Harry felt a trace of fear alongside a small voice pointing out that Voldemort must have read Draco's mind, he did not bring the wand and all was lost…
Deciding to push his luck upon seeing Voldemort smirk condescendingly, Harry continued angrily. "You think you've won, don't you? Well, I've got news for you: the wand doesn't respond to you. You messed up, you won't be able to overcome the connection between us with that wand. You've lost."
"And I believe your wand doesn't respond to you, either, Harry, am I correct? Or have you managed to piece it back together yet?"
Hearing that Voldemort knew his wand was broken felt like a tremendous blow for Harry. He could feel any sort of advantage in the element of surprise drifting away. As if sensing this, Voldemort laughed a piercing cold laugh. The sound coupled with Hermione's indistinct voice in the back of his head drove Harry into a rage. He pointed Draco's wand at Voldemort and shouted, "Accio Elder Wand!"
Nothing happened.
Harry felt a wave of disbelief. He could not see any other wand in Voldemort's grasp, but he must have brought the wand if he expected to kill Harry at this moment. How could there be no response…
"You look confused, Harry. Shall I spare you the mental anguish of deducing what has happened here, tonight?"
Harry did not know how to respond. He could feel the fear mounting, now fully aware for the first time that he was facing Voldemort, alone, with someone else's wand, his and Hermione's plan having failed spectacularly on all counts. It almost seemed unreal and he briefly wondered if this was all a bad dream, if he was back at Number Four Privet Drive in Dudley's old room and any second now Aunt Petunia would bark at him to wake up and get breakfast ready…
Voldemort glided forward, grabbed Harry's arm and, in front of a thoroughly frightened circle of onlookers, twisted and vanished into nothing.
Voldemort threw Harry to the floor upon arrival at their destination, but the pain was nothing to the acute stabs in his forehead. He felt himself lifted to his feet and immediately recognized the room as Dumbledore's office. Each one of the paintings was empty.
"You should consider this an honour, Harry. It is not every day that I allow lesser beings such as yourself to gaze into my mind."
Harry watched wordlessly as Voldemort drew open the cupboard that housed Dumbledore's Pensieve and extracted a wispy strand of memory with the tip of one long, spidery finger. Voldemort turned with a sudden quickness, seized the back of Harry's neck and thrust Harry's head into the depths of the Pensieve.
Harry felt the familiar swooping sensation before his feet hit hard ground. He wrenched his neck from Voldemort's vicelike grip, eyes watering from the insurmountable pain, and looked forward into the memory.
…the emaciated figure stirred beneath its thin blanket and rolled over towards him, eyes opening in a skull of a face…the frail man sat up, great sunken eyes fixed upon him, upon Voldemort, and then he smiled. Most of his teeth were gone…
"So, you have come. I thought you would…one day. But your journey was pointless. I never had it."
"You lie!"
Harry watched as what had been discrete fragments of familiar visions materialized in front of him, fully coherent for the first time. Voldemort stood mutely in stark contrast to his enraged twin in the memory.
"I never had it," Grindelwald repeated bitterly. "It was never mine. Did you not ever stop to consider how Dumbledore was capable of defeating me when I, the greatest Dark wizard of all time, possessed the wand to conquer all wands?"
Voldemort's scarlet eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at Grindelwald's words, but nevertheless he allowed the man to continue for he appeared lost in a mad reverie.
"I have spent much of my time here remembering, analyzing that particular duel, searching for reasons as to why, why the wand had failed me, its true owner, its Master. It is not until recently that I came to understand the truth. Gregorovitch was not the rightful owner of the wand."
Grindelwald's voice became steadily more forceful as though explaining out loud confirmed the truth of his deductions once and for all.
"I had studied the wand's history in great detail in preparation, and all signs indeed pointed to Gregorovitch having obtained the wand by force centuries ago in a bid to study its properties…but I had overlooked a crucial point in my musings...
"My accomplice, a young wizard hoping to gain glory in aiding my cause, had, according to my instruction, set off a small explosion in the back alley of Gregorovitch's shop. This allowed me the time to enter his shop unseen and search for the wand's location. Gregorovitch surmised the distraction for what it was quicker than my accomplice had anticipated, and so he disarmed the wandmaker in time for him to watch me escape out of his window with the Elder Wand in hand.
"I did not imagine that the act of disarming Gregorovitch would amount to anything, seeing as he was disarmed of his own particular wand and not the Elder Wand itself. My instructions had been very clear: if Gregorovitch recovers before the wand is found, disarm and impede him so that we may escape unscathed. The young wizard was unable to impede Gregorovitch before a gang of brutes, likely bought for protection should an attempt be made to procure the wand, killed him.
"I escaped his shop as you no doubt discovered, confident in the fact that the Elder Wand was mine to command henceforth. It was only during my duel with Dumbledore, where the wand frustratingly performed at the same level as my own, that I understood that something had gone wrong."
Grindelwald fell silent, scrutinising Voldemort's impassive face. Finally, Voldemort spoke.
"A well-concocted story. Now, I will ask only once more: where is the wand?"
Grindelwald let out a short bark of laughter, spattering the cell floor with spittle. Voldemort regarded him with disgust, unbidden memories surfacing of another old man reveling in his madness on the floor of a run-down shack…
"You know where the wand is, much good as that will do you. I suppose this conversation is at an end. Kill me, then, Voldemort, I welcome death! But my death will not bring you what you seek…there is so much you do not understand…"
Voldemort regarded the cackling wizard for a moment more and then turned to leave. At once, the laughter ceased, leaving a dead silence such that Voldemort turned back around.
"Leave the body," Grindelwald said quietly, seeming for the first time as sane as any man. He looked Voldemort dead in the eye. "Take the wand, trace its history as you wish, but do not desecrate the dead."
Despite his face unchanging, Voldemort spoke in a voice cold as ice.
"You waste my time with wild stories intended to deceive me and hinder my progress, and then have the gall to present me with a request?" He crouched down until he was at eye level with Grindelwald, and then, in a tone colder still, said, "I will take the wand, and I will make sure that Dumbledore's worthless corpse is thrown into the deepest, darkest unmarked crevice I can find as is befitting his status."
The effect was instantaneous. Grindelwald's eyes appeared to roll back in his head and he began to sputter in a feral rage.
"Kill me, then!" demanded the old man." You will not win, you cannot win! That wand will never, ever be yours—"
"The wand will be mine. And you will live."
"The wand will never recognize hands as filthy as yours, Tom Riddle!…oh, yes…you think I did not know, did not hear whispers in the long years I have lain in this cell…filthy spawn of muggles that you are—"
Voldemort's face contorted into pure, frothing rage and the cell exploded with blinding green light and the hollowed, ringing laughter of a man finally released from his sentence, free at last, free at last…
The greyness of the cell dissolved into black as the memory ended. Harry glanced warily in Voldemort's direction, expecting waves of anger in response to Grindelwald's revelation and parting insults, and was instead surprised and terrified to see a broad grin carved on to Voldemort's white, snakelike face.
"Don't you see, Harry?" Voldemort asked in a jubilant tone. "He was wrong. Voldemort knows…he always knows…"
Not knowing how to respond, Harry stayed silent. Voldemort's grin broadened, and Harry recalled Nagini's face moments before she struck in Bathilda Bagshot's home.
"This self-proclaimed master of the Dark Arts, this poor excuse for a wizard, claimed that I did not understand the inner workings of the Elder Wand, and I confess at that moment, yes, I was mistaken…but for all his time rotting away he did not possess the brains to realize…or at the most, refused to admit to his own inadequacy…
Voldemort fell silent and looked Harry directly in the eye, as if expecting him to somehow reach Voldemort's conclusions. Harry, whose scar had felt as though it could produce no more pain humanly tolerable, burst open again and drove all coherent thought from his mind. Bare instinct prevented him from falling to his knees in agony…can't show weakness…
Voldemort sneered as Harry fought to maintain a straight face.
"My, my, for all his magical prowess and daring feats, is the Chosen One truly incapable of solving this matter? Well then, allow me to provide you one last lesson before you join that old fool whom you hold so dear…
"Grindelwald believed he had claimed true ownership of the Elder Wand when he stole it from Gregorovitch all those years ago. Doubtless he assumed that his thievery combined with an ill-directed stunning spell had been sufficient to gain control of the wand."
Voldemort paused for a brief moment and Harry felt an alien surge of triumph wind its way through the pain.
"What he failed to understand, what so many others have failed to understand, is that the Elder Wand responds to power. It does not recognize thievery or any other sort of banal trickery. A wizard must demonstrate a high degree of raw power, enough to truly defeat his opponent, for the wand to change allegiance. 'The wand chooses the wizard…'" Voldemort recited in a mockery of Ollivander's famous words.
"Perhaps Grindelwald had an inkling of this when he aimed a Stunning spell at Gregorovitch before his absurd escape from the shop. A very slight inkling, if anything, for his lazy spell missed completely according to the memories Gregorovitch so kindly provided me. Do you see now, Potter?"
The last few words were hissed menacingly. Harry's scar prickled further and it took all his force of will not to clap his hands to his face.
"Going to finally arrive at the point, are you?" Harry demanded. Voldemort looked unfazed.
"Now we see the true extent of your mental capabilities, separated as you are from the higher minds who have guided you in thwarting me all these years. Gregorovitch was indeed the wand's true master, contrary to Grindelwald's feeble argument. The wand never changed allegiance. Do you know where Gregorovitch is now, Potter?"
A slight pause, and then, "He is dead, killed months ago in his very own shop."
Voldemort reached into his billowing black robes and slowly withdrew a long, knobbly brown wand.
Harry's mind went blank as understanding dawned on him like a bolt of lightning.
'We were wrong.'
Voldemort grabbed Harry's arm and Apparated back to the Great Hall.
Once again, Harry was thrown to his feet.
He hardly registered the feeling, numb with the realization that he and Hermione had been so, so horribly wrong. He did not hear what Voldemort began to preach to the terrified crowd, he could no longer hear Hermione's voice echoing in his head, he could not share in the trepidation the wizards and witches with whom he had grown up in this hall were feeling at this very moment. And thus he could not muster any thought except that, at the very least, Voldemort was about to destroy the horcrux within Harry so that someone else could continue the hunt. Then his vision flashed a familiar shade of green, and he closed his eyes.