Disclaimer: As in a lot of fanfics I enjoyed reading, this states that all belongs to J.K.Rowling, and I just was lucky enough to borrow and play with it a little. I'm pretty sure I picked some influences and ideas around the corner. It wasn't my intention to copy anyone or anything and I apologize if this – inadvertently – happened.

Summary: After the Horcrux hunt, the moment for the last encounter between Harry and Voldemort had arrived. "Neither can live while the other survives." Comply with canon up to HBP.

Author's Notes: I have written another "last battle" fanfic and it was an open-ending story. This one will be more of a tale. English is not my first language, so be patient with my mistakes and review or email me to draw attention to them. I'll correct everything I can.

Thanks to "buttamellow" from WizardTales (dot) net, "TheGreyLady" from perfectimagination(dot)co(dot)uk for the beta of this chapter.


CHAPTER ONE

After almost a year of hunting, they had destroyed three of the accessible Horcruxes, but there was still one: Nagini. Voldemort had the last part of his soul inside his recreated body.

They went back to Hogwarts for some rest and regrouping; at least, that was the plan of which Ron and Hermione were aware. They thought that rejoining the Order of Phoenix and fighting together in a battle against Voldemort and his Death Eaters would decide this second war.

But he knew better. Voldemort was not one to face the enemy up front. Using a Slytherin approach, he preferred stealth, secrecy, and a bit of backstabbing, a fact that was obvious after the attack on Hogwarts, when Dumbledore died, and all of the disappearances around England. People had vanished during the night and nobody knew how or to where.

No. Voldemort would not gather an army and march against Hogwarts' gates. He would instead contact all the spies he could find and infiltrate the places he wanted. Or he would commission some kidnappings or attacks in the middle of the night.

So, Harry would let Ron and Hermione believe in their fairytale of great deeds, brave warriors, and a battle to end the war. He knew better, and he needed to plan their last encounter.

The last battle, the end of this war, would be much like their other encounters. It would be in a place few knew, a place that would take some time to get to. Voldemort would use his followers to weaken his enemy. He would strike the final blow. Voldemort was never a man to go against too many odds; all of his meetings with Harry only sharpened this trend. Voldemort would do whatever he could to be sure that Harry wasn't in any condition to fight back.

All of this reasoning brought him back to the necessity to plan a very good strategy. There would be no second chances. But he did have some time to rest first. He at least needed a rested body to sustain him. He knew that resting his mind would be much more difficult.

So, Harry jumped on his old bed inside the now seventh-year dormitory, closed the curtains around it and relaxed his body, letting his mind wander.

'This time, it will be my way, by my choosing. I have played his way for too long. It's my time to lead this dance,' Harry thought, torn between relief that the end was near and trepidation about what this would really mean, especially for him.

He knew he was older than his years, his childhood lost in a loveless house, his teenager years torn between impossible responsibilities he never offered to bear or wanted to shoulder. But, maybe the last year was the worst of all. There had been more pain and despair than he ever imagined possible. Even with the help of his best friends, the hunting, and some visions, he couldn't escape Voldemort all the time: awake or asleep. But now all would end. This would be the last time.

The last confrontation. The last battle. The last chance.

He couldn't go on like this anymore. He needed closure. Peace. So he would stage the scenery for the last act. He would be alone, as it should be in the end. After all, 'either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives.' He was able to reach this moment thanks to his friends: loyal, courageous friends who had risked everything to help him. Friends who still thought that they would be with him at the end. However, Harry knew this wouldn't be possible. This wasn't what was foreseen. Let them rest and be with their loved ones. Harry was the "Chosen One," "The Only One Who Could Destroy Him." He was the ultimate weapon.

'I'm certainly not the smartest. Maybe not the strongest or the most powerful. But, certainly, I'm the most driven,' Harry thought, having finally given up in any effort to clear his mind. He needed this last "discussion" with himself. He needed to review his life and his motives against Voldemort. He needed the nourishment that this knowledge would get him.

He went inside his mind, opening the doors to where his memories were stored. All the effort to learn Occlumency so he could avoid Voldemort's mind attacks had helped, though not completely. Their minds were too interwoven after so many years for it to be possible to end all connections, but at least the communication now was completely unintentional. Harry had the chance to peek into some of Voldemort's plans as well as the misfortune to witness some of his deeds. It was the price he had to pay in the war.

While the Light side had lost only a handful of important allies, it had also lost far too many innocents and bystanders. The Dark side, however, had lost a lot of followers and found difficulty in gather many eager new ones.

As they were traveling back to Hogwarts after the destruction of the last Horcrux, Harry had reached and accepted the conclusion that balance was needed in the world. There would always be light against dark, good against evil, two sides to every coin, and a grey area in between.

It had taken more time for him to accept his place in this chessboard. He had never asked to be the knight chosen to corner the enemy king. He had begun this game without knowing his place in it and he hated the choices that others had made in his name. But regrets and past deeds were not the issue anymore. They could not be. There was no way to change the past. Not even Hermione could find a spell that would allow him to travel back enough years in time to change something relevant. A few hours would never be enough.

Not for the first time, Harry thought about how the world would have turned up had he had died that fateful Halloween night. He and Voldemort together, disappearing off this earth. Maybe someone worse would have risen. Or perhaps the Wizarding world would have had very happy years of prosperity.

This kind of game, this "what if," was one of the worst tortures Harry could do to himself. Hermione, and even Ron, had warned him against it. But it was a bit like a scab over a recent wound. One could not resist the urge to scratch it, for if it broke and started to bleed again, there was no problem. Another scab would form. Of course, the place would be a bit more sensitive, and it would leave a scar in the end, but that's the way of things. And Harry was used to scars.

But he didn't have the time for this game anymore. It was time to focus and plan, and this time he couldn't ask for Ron's chess mastery or Hermione's research skills. Like always, he was alone against Voldemort and would need his wits about him. At least now he was forewarned.

Finally letting the weariness get to him, Harry turned to his side and gave in to sleep.

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It was lunchtime and all of the warriors of the Light were together in the Great Hall. One big table full of food was the central point of the room, and people were eating and talking with an amazing degree of freedom and happiness, if one considered the dark times. The summer holidays gave them the space and place to congregate. Headmistress McGonagall was confident that the next year would be better for all. She needed to believe this or she wouldn't be able to go on.

Harry sat flanked by Ron and Tonks on the either side. Hermione was by Ron's other side. The other Weasleys were gathered close by, Percy the only one still missing. Although he had never really made up with his family, he was once again on speaking terms, as the Order and the Ministry were allies now.

New people entered the Order while a few people disappeared. Snape was not present and his status was still in discussion. Dumbledore's portrait, after waking, informed them that the spy's act had been something that was agreed upon between the two men. Snape still provided the Order with some helpful information, but he had cultivated too many enemies in his Hogwarts' years to be so easily forgiven and forgotten.

Harry, for one, would never forgive his ex-Potions professor. Not for Dumbledore's murder or for the years of persecution and torment. Not for all the hateful remarks against his father and godfather. And especially not for Snape's part in his first Occlumency classes and Sirius's death.

If Harry was to survive the final encounter with Voldemort, and Snape and all his enemies, it would be better if the two never met again. Harry would exact revenge on the man as he had on the traitor Wormtail.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had met the rat-man at the site of the last Horcrux. Voldemort was suspicious of the Gryffindor Trio's activities and had sent the little coward to investigate. Harry had breathed in relief when Wormtail had exploded in flames together with the Horcrux.

Looking around, Harry drank in the moment as he collected and stored images and memories of his loved ones. The people who helped him to learn about love and trust and friendship. Of course, it hadn't been a smooth journey all the way. There had been fights and disagreements, but there was forgiveness and closeness.

When Harry had awakened this morning, he finally knew why he was fighting. He knew that he wanted a chance for a real life without the sword of death and darkness over his head. Most of all, he knew that he was fighting for those people who had shown him this possibility, for those people who had shown him that he did have a chance to live.

So Harry ate and listened and looked around. People were happy to be together again. There was a lot of gossip and news to share, good memories to discuss, as well as few new pranks from the twins to laugh about.

Finally, something Kingsley was saying caught Harry's attention.

"We have raided Malfoy Manor enough times. It's an abandoned house by now. But that little ferret, Draco, has been moving around so much that I think he's up to no good. The Malfoy family has enough hiding places to offer some kind of harbour to Death Eaters and You-Know-Who himself."

The people around the Auror nodded in agreement.

Harry felt like snorting. 'For Merlin's sake!' he thought. 'They are still using this stupid "You-Know-Who" and "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" around. When people will grow up? How do they expect to fight and defeat him if they can't even say his name?'

But Harry's thoughts were cut short when he remembered that he, Harry, would be the one to fight Voldemort directly. There was no use in complaining about the name thing. Harry could only hope that, after all this ended, everyone would learn to say the Dark Lord's name and prevent another one from rising too soon. This thought dragged him down, his good mood slipping away.

"Remember, Harry, in second year, when we found out about the secret room where Malfoy stashed his dark objects?" Ron asked, rescuing Harry from his thoughts. "Dad had a nice raid there then."

"It was only a room?" Hermione asked. "Couldn't it be a cave where they could have corridors and other places to hide?"

"When we investigated it, it was only a storage room," Mr. Weasley answered. "But we never went back at a later time."

"We checked the room in the last raid. It was empty. There were no corridors or caves," Shacklebolt added.

This made Harry think. There were no doors or corridors that the Aurors could see. There was always the possibility that it might be charmed to be secret, like in a Fidelius charm, or, even better, it might have a password in a special language, such as Parseltongue. Harry, immersed in his thoughts, started to plan. Around him, the conversation continued as everyone enjoyed a final moment of peace in the middle of the chaos.

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Harry borrowed Ron's broom and went to fly over the Quidditch pitch. He had become quite protective of his Firebolt, as it was the first gift he had received from Sirius. But he also knew that his trusted broom would be with him for the last duel.

While he flew, Harry planned. Malfoy had had at least two years to build an underground fortress before Voldemort was reborn. He could have worked on the place, leaving the final touch for when Voldemort was able to cast a Parseltongue password. The Fidelius charm would most likely be too complicated as the Death Eaters needed to get inside easily. There was too much traffic and too many new people for it to be feasible to have a secret-keeper. None of them were available all the time. Lucius had spent almost two years in Azkaban. Draco was at Hogwarts most of the time. From what everybody said, Narcissa was apt to close her eyes and pretend that nothing was happening while she could and Bellatrix was too crazy to be trusted, no matter her loyalty to the Dark Lord.

So Harry continued to fly as his mind wrapped around ideas and plans. He could potentially go to the border of the Malfoy area and search for an entrance outside their wards. Even with the house being empty and the numerous Ministry raids, the wards around the place were still impressive, another reason for the underground place to exist. Unlike the Hogwarts' secret passageways, the fortress should be inside the wards. Harry would have to be extra careful. After he entered the place, he would be completely isolated. There would be no chance to call for help. He would have to leave a message that would be found after he was already on the way, instructing the Order as to his whereabouts as well as where to go to find out the result of the final battle.

Sometime later, Harry finally landed and walked back to the castle. He had some preparations to make.

While people were enjoying the day, resting and talking, Harry went back to his room and prepared a knapsack with items that he thought would be useful. Inside went his trusted invisibility cloak, some common healing potions, and the communication mirror he shared with Ron and Hermione, to help them find him afterwards. In also went a rolled parchment on which he had the notes about the spells he was planning to use against Voldemort.

It had taken him almost all year to find these spells. As they traveled, he had written a lot to Bill Weasley asking about ancient curses and wards. He had also asked Charlie how they controlled the dragons in Romania and talked with Mr. Weasley about protective charms used to prevent Muggles to find out about the Wizarding World. He had finally wrapped it up with a good talk with Mad-Eye Moody about some good, almost dark, spells. By themselves, not one of them would be of great help. Together, interwoven with all of Hermione's mastery, their answers could mean the end of Voldemort's dreams.

After his knapsack had been packed, closed and charmed to fit in his pocket, Harry had only one last thing to do. Avoiding the people that were starting to go to dinner, Harry walked to the entrance of the Headmistress's office. He still found it difficult to think of the place as belonging to McGonagall and not Dumbledore.

"Lion's courage," was the password. And up the rotating stairs Harry went.

Harry knocked at the door just to be safe, but he knew that McGonagall would be in the Great Hall at this hour. He waited to come here, not wanting any more witnesses than he would already have. He needed to talk to Dumbledore's portrait but he didn't need anybody else knowing. He was also aware that Dumbledore himself would assure the silence of the other portraits.

Most of the painted figures were deep in conversation, discussing the news the Order had brought that day as well as possible outcomes for the near future.

Harry was not in the mood to listen to idle conversations or crazy speculation. So he butted right it.

"Uh, good evening. I need to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

"How rude! You should not interrupt your elders' conversations, young man!" A plump witch in a canary-yellow robe pouted.

"Okay, sorry to cut short the fun, but I really need to talk to Dumbledore and I don't have much time."

"That is alright, Gertrude," Dumbledore answered. "This young man has a very important mission ahead of him. We should not delay. We will have a lot of time on our hands to talk later, though." Harry was impressed how the twinkling on Dumbledore's eyes had been transferred to his portrait.

Murmurs and grudging acceptances ran around the office, but the portraits went back to their own paintings and started to pretend to not to listen to Dumbledore and Harry.

"Oh, my boy, it's so nice to see you again! And in such a good shape, if I may say so." The damned twinkling was there again.

"Well, it wasn't an easy year. But I have to thank Merlin that Ron, Hermione, and I came back in one piece."

"So you came here to tell me about your adventures this year?" The Headmaster smiled in anticipation.

"No," Harry answered. "I need to talk to you before I have to go away again. You can ask Ron or Hermione about this last year."

"But, Harry, if you finished destroying the Horcruxes, why do you need to go away again? Now would be the time to rest and start planning how to get rid of Voldemort. The Order and the Ministry were working on some plans. Nothing definitive yet, but they are good ideas."

"I'll not sit and wait for them to cook up some crazy plan. I already have a plan of my own and everything is set for me to go after Voldemort."

"Harry! You can't! You should not go alone! You need your friends with you. That's one of the reasons for the existence of the Order of the Phoenix. Everyone who joined is preparing to fight to the death for our side."

"Yeah, I know. I just don't agree. Nobody else should have to be there for the last confrontation between Voldemort and myself. It's my job. The prophecy says so."

"The prophecy says you have to deliver the final blow. It doesn't say you have to be alone." Dumbledore's eyes were full of sadness at this point.

"No, it doesn't say so, but this is my choice. I don't want anybody else to be there to draw my attention away from Voldemort. If I have to worry about somebody being hurt or dying, I won't be able to do my part."

"They are all adults, Harry. They are capable of making their own decisions."

"Yeah, about that. Decisions. I have questions to you. We never really had the time to talk." Harry bowed his head. He didn't want Dumbledore to see his eyes right now. He knew the portrait wasn't able to do Legilimency but the old man knew him so well that even his portrait would be able to read the anger in him right now.

The Dumbledore in the painting sighed as if a bit disappointed. But then he smiled cunningly, as the real Dumbledore used to do, and gestured for Harry to sit down in front of him.

"What do you want to talk to me about, Harry?"

"Choices. And decisions."

"Which ones, Harry?"

"Well, let's start simple, I guess. Why did you keep throwing Snape and me together?"

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"He's not a professor anymore."

"Well, yes. Well, I knew Severus had a grudge against James and Sirius and that you painfully reminded him of his school years; however, I also knew that he needed to get over it. He needed to forgive and forget. If he did not, he might lose his soul to the dark completely. Putting you two together was a way to show Severus that the time has passed, that he was not dealing with childhood nemeses anymore. He was an adult, and you were a young and different boy. You are not your father or your godfather, Harry. You might have the looks, you might have some traits, but you are your own person. I needed Severus to realize that."

"Hm. Didn't work very well, did it?" Harry asked dispassionately.

"Well…" The portrait seemed a bit lost. "No, I don't think it worked very well after all. Severus had more anger inside him than I thought."

"'There are some wounds that run too deep for the healing,'" Harry quoted.

"You remember our conversation," Dumbledore said, not sure if this was a good thing.

"Oh, yeah, I remember that day very clearly," Harry answered steely. "Next question: did you really believe that Draco could be persuaded to change sides?"

"Yes. Like Severus, young Mr. Malfoy needed some guidance and an opportunity to see the error of his ways."

"Again, this didn't work very well either."

"I still believe that if I had more time to talk with Mr. Malfoy with Severus as reinforcement, we could have brought him in." Dumbledore sighed.

"Hm," Harry murmured. "You should ask someone from the Order about his actions after he left Hogwarts."

"Nobody has said anything about him in this office. And Minerva is always so busy that I haven't had the heart to ask her much. Couldn't you tell me, Harry?"

"Oh, no! I will not be accused of having a biased opinion here. Ask somebody less involved," Harry said with finality.

Dumbledore's portrait sighed again. This did not bond well for his hopes. None at all.

"I think this is the last question I have for you: why did you never ask me?"

"Ask you what, Harry?" Dumbledore asked puzzled.

"Ask for my help. Ask if I want to do all of this."

"But you didn't have a choice. You are the one the prophecy talks about. You are the only one that can destroy Voldemort," Dumbledore answered, more puzzled.

"So you think that I don't have the right to choose my part in this, or at least how I would play that part," Harry said in a dry tone.

"Would you abandon the entire Wizarding world to the hands of an evil man, Harry?" Dumbledore asked sadly.

"Well, first of all, I never got the chance to think about it. And second, the Wizarding world has abandoned me plenty of times, why should I feel indebted with them?" Harry's callous attitude worried the ex-headmaster.

"Harry, mistakes were made, but that doesn't mean that people do not deserve your help."

"Well, they are a bunch of cowardly sheep that prefer to run and hide and let someone else take care of their problems. They like to judge others way too much. Even with Voldemort gone, I don't think the Wizarding world will have a peaceful existence." Harry continued with his hard posture.

"People are, in essence, good, my boy. They can be tempted. They can make mistakes. But if you open the right path, they will follow." Dumbledore said with wet eyes and the most benign expression he could muster.

"People are sheep ready to be lead to where the next wolf would take them." Harry wouldn't back down from his opinions. "And I don't agree that everybody is good. There's a lot of evil out there. I should know. I've met a good bit of it in my short life."

"Harry, I thought we had talked enough about my mistakes. I took too long recognizing the error of sending you to the Dursleys without proper supervision. I also know that I took a bit too long to see you as an adult. But I really thought that this was behind us," Dumbledore said, looking disappointed.

"What is irking me, Professor, is how I never got to choose. You left me in a place where I would never know love or respect. You then threw me into a new world where I would only feel worthy through acts of bravery and foolishness. And when I was feeling more lost than ever, you shot the prophecy at me, stating that I was the sole person responsible for the saving of the Wizarding world and even the Muggle world. Worlds that have never been good to me and have never given me anything besides pain."

"Harry…" Dumbledore started to interrupt.

"No!" Harry jumped from his chair and rushed forward to scream at the painting's face. "I will say all that I have to say! It is my last chance. After this conversation, I am going after Voldemort and I will end this war, but I will leave behind my opinions and grudges." The young man took a deep breath. "After all, you wouldn't want me to go to 'my next great adventure' carrying all of this inside my heart, would you?" he asked with sarcasm.

Dumbledore sat in the comfortable chair behind him looking sad and powerless.

"You never told me everything. You were always giving bits and pieces, but never giving me the whole picture." Harry started to pace around the office. "I never had a childhood. The Dursleys made sure of that. I had to grow up very quickly in order to avoid their taunting and their blows. Then, a shining light appeared to me. A new world. A place where I would be at home, but that also was not meant to be. I was still a freak, still different and set apart. And you 'guided' me, putting me on the path to heroism, making me feel responsible for whatever happened around me."

Harry stopped pacing and turned to look directly into Dumbledore's eyes.

"You never gave me the choice. Thinking back, even the one time I believed that it was all my choice, it wasn't. Hagrid filled my mind with images of my heroic Gryffindor parents and I then met Draco, the Slytherin. When the Sorting Hat offered one or the other, there wasn't much of a choice there, right?"

Harry bowed his head and signed. It took a few moments for him to once more gain control of his emotions.

"Why did you never ask me, Professor?" It was a very sad young man who asked that question. Whoever looked now would see the face of a seventeen-year old, but his eyes showed many more years. Too much. "Why did you never ask for my help or give me the choice in this?"

Dumbledore hung his head low, ashamed. Through all of the conversations he had had with Harry and others, he was able to recognize his mistakes with the boy's upbringing. But never had he doubted the young man's part in their world's situation. The prophecy stated that Harry was the one to rid them of the Dark Lord, so Dumbledore just proceeded with this knowledge. This was the first time he thought about the boy's position or right in the whole situation. His right to make the choice to be there and do whatever was expected of him. His right to be asked to help and to receive recognition for his actions.

"I am very sorry, Harry. Until now, I never thought about you in this way. After I heard the prophecy everything seemed so clear. You were the Wizarding world's hope and it was obvious that you would fulfill your destiny. I just went on and made all the decisions I thought were necessary to guarantee the outcome," Dumbledore answered with a broken voice, really crying now.

Harry stared at the crying portrait of his old Headmaster with sad understanding.

"You believed that everyone was entitled to a second chance. Just not me. I wasn't even entitled to a first chance. My entire life was set around becoming the ultimate weapon for the Wizarding world against the latest dark lord." Harry nodded and went on before Dumbledore could interrupt.

"What really makes me sad is that it will not end with Voldemort and me. Another dark lord will rise and another life will be destroyed in order to save the Wizarding world. A world that isn't willing to change to prevent another repetition of this sad situation."

Harry sighed and closed his eyes searching for control and balance. A few minutes and some deep breaths later, he opened his eyes to face the ex-headmaster again.

"I need to go now. Everything is ready."

"Harry, wait! You will be here to help the Wizarding world not to repeat its mistakes!" Dumbledore stood up and shouted at the young man.

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't. What I found out about 'the power he knows not' doesn't guarantee my survival."

"Then you must research more! You must re-think your plan! I never expected you to die doing this, Harry! If one was destroyed, the other would survive," Dumbledore pleaded.

"The prophecy says that neither can live, while the other survives. But it does not guarantee the survival of either. I did a lot of thinking and research, Professor. There is no other way if I want to finish this soon. And I don't believe that to wait a few more years would help the cause of the Light." Harry turned his back to the painting and went to leave a parchment over the Headmistress' desk.

"Don't say anything right now, Professor. Let them enjoy the rest while they can. I expect my mission will be over at the end of the night. They can sort out the mess tomorrow morning."

Dumbledore was at the edge of the painting as if he could jump out and grab Harry, to prevent him from going.

"Harry, I am so sorry…"

"It's in the past, sir. I just hope that you can help prevent another situation like this in the future," Harry answered sadly and walked away without a second glance.


TBC…