Disclaimer: As much as I'd like to claim otherwise, I don't own or make a profit from anything Harry Potter-related. I just like to have fun with them once in a while.
Summary: Harry takes down Voldemort at last, with Draco and Severus' help. This is currently a WIP and I have no clue where it's going. Eventual HP/DM, possible HP/SS. Maybe even HP/SS/DM! Oh my!
A/N: If you haven't read all seven HP books by now, then please be aware that I have and this story might contain spoilers. Future warnings: SLASH, though not graphic at first, and AU (because things aren't exactly canon), and EWE (because I despise Harry/Ginny pairings). All characters are of (wizarding) age. This wasn't meant to be a serious story at all, but it sort of got out of control. Read if you want, review if you wish. Unlike most authors, I don't rely on reviews to continue writing. ;)
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The sword of Gryffindor fell to the floor next to the head that had recently parted company with Nagini's body. Too grateful to think of anything else, Harry silently cast a Shield Charm between Neville and Voldemort. Who'd have thought such a bumbling boy like Neville could have destroyed the last Horcrux? But it had happened, whether Harry was expecting it or not and he wasn't the least bit sorry to see that honor going to someone besides himself for once. The death of Nagini seemed to fuel the fire for Voldemort and his followers. With a howl of rage, Voldemort commanded his troops onward. They charged forward en masse, flinging curses and hexes without pausing as they stampeded further into the castle. In the ensuing uproar, Harry, unnoticed under his Invisibility Cloak, was shuffled and bumped into the Great Hall.
The kitchen doors were flung wide as Harry raced past them and he rushed through the sudden surge of house-elves, darting and twisting his way forward between their tiny bodies. He surpassed the lot of them, narrowly avoiding the kitchen knives they swung over their bobble heads. He soon left them behind, the surprised shrieks of several slower unlucky Death Eaters echoing in the house-elves' wake.
Many of the Death Eaters were falling like flies, the floor of the Great Hall littered with their Stunned, hexed, or cursed bodies. In the middle of the fray, McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slughorn dueled Voldemort, their wands stabbing and piercing the air, their faces identical masks of grim determination. Voldemort swiped at the crackling ozone and knocked them down as, across the room, Bellatrix gurgled her last breath and fell. Molly Weasley, eyes burning with a ferocity Harry had never seen before, turned toward Voldemort just as he raised his wand.
But Harry had already lifted the wand in his own hand, shouting, "Protego!", and tore the Invisibility Cloak off himself. It fluttered to the floor, the whisper of fabric magnified in the shocked silence, while Voldemort's dark purple curse sizzled out against Harry's hasty Shield Charm.
"Harry!"
"He's alive!"
"Nobody try to help me," Harry said quietly to the room at large. Their shouts died down immediately. Just barely able to disguise his relief when he saw a solid black mass pressing its way toward him, he extended one hand and pointed directly behind Voldemort. "But maybe you can help, Severus Snape." The stunned crowd parted, confusing the darkest wizard of their time, who spun around and tripped over the hem of his own robe, into the waiting arms of Severus Snape.
As if he were lowering a lover, Snape gently forced his former master to his knees and cradled the scaly face between his long white fingers.
"I should have known, Severuss...Quite slippery, aren't you?"
Snape sneered down at his former master. "Potions instructor, remember, Riddle?" And he tilted his head slightly to the side, letting everyone close enough see the round red wounds on either side of his neck, the essences of murtlap and dittany still drying on his collar. "It's over, old man," he ground out, bending his head downward so that his hooked nose nearly brushed Voldemort's own snake-like nostrils. He didn't bother to lift his dark eyes when he spoke, but it was clear his next words were for Harry: "Too many have already helped you on this path to stop now, Mr. Potter, wouldn't you agree?"
With that, Harry stepped forward and stood at Voldemort's back, bending slightly to slide the dangling wand out of Voldemort's slack grip. He stepped back as Snape leaned his face down to peer into the crimson eyes of his enemy, pressed the tip of his wand against one scaly temple and, though he whispered, everyone heard the word that slipped like oil from his lips: "Legilimens."
Hermione and Ron moved as one, standing a few inches to Snape's left. They quietly collected each silver milky strand of Voldemort's memories into the glass phials that were Charmed never to break. As each one was stoppered and placed into Hermione's strange beaded purse, not a single person moved. This went on for nearly ten minutes and Harry simply stood still and watched over the bald dome of Voldemort's head while Snape systematically sifted through and removed the memories locked within it. After a while, several people shifted at the back of the crowd, too entranced to notice who was purposefully elbowing past them. When he noticed three white-blond heads moving quickly through the dense circle of people toward him, Harry moved back from Voldemort. Snape stood up, obsidian eyes hard and glittering triumphantly while Voldemort only whimpered and clutched his temples.
The three Malfoys finally pushed through the wall of people, stumbling as gracelessly as ballerinas into the clear space. Draco delicately peeled himself free of his mother's hawk-like grip on his forearm and moved to stand behind Harry. Harry nodded to Snape, who stood to the side next to Lucius and Narcissa. Voldemort's shoulders slumped, his face in his hands.
Draco wrapped his fingers around the hand that Harry had a wand clenched in. He settled his left hand on Harry's shoulder, stilling the twitch of the muscles there. As if in a dream, Harry watched their joined hands lifting the wand, pointing it like a gnarled, accusing finger at the back of Voldemort's head.
"Look at me, Tom," Harry said, sounding so much like Luna that he almost laughed aloud. Voldemort turned on his knees, red eyes wide for the first time with true confusion and this time, Harry did laugh. His laughter carried low and thick, muffling the words Draco seemed to sing into his ear, a strange and dark undercurrent to the beam of light that flashed from the end of his wand. Voldemort crumpled soundlessly to the floor, lifeless, but oddly peaceful.
Harry's laughter died at the broken frames of the windows, the gold and red fingers of dawn filtering it to silence. He felt the collectively drawn breath of those who surrounded him, a vacuum of quiet that was suddenly blown outward by sobs and cheers and bodies closing in around him. Harry turned to face Draco, their foreheads nearly cracking together as Molly squeezed them both into a hug that was nearly as bone-crunching as Hagrid's. Draco smirked and hugged Molly and Harry just as tightly, then backed away to disappear somewhere near the back of the swell of bodies.
It was finally over. Tom Marvolo Riddle was dead at last.