Chapter 2
Author's Note: To clear up confusion, Voldemort's words are bold AND italic. Sorry for that. Oh, and one more thing, please review! Many thanks!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
..:0:..
The battle raged on, as thestrals and a lone hippogriff flew down upon the Death Eaters and clawed at them, while Voldemort's giants tried in vain to bat them out of the sky.
Voldemort began forward with an indomitable gait, his looming figure and pale, snake-like face standing out in the raging battle as he coolly sauntered through it, shooting jets of diverse colors of light at the resistors.
"Fight my minions! Fight for the Dark Lord!" he cried, rallying his comrades.
He was unconquerable; not a single curse or hex even grazed Voldemort, as he strode unharmed directly through the on-going skirmish, Hogwarts defenders falling cold at his feet. Screaming instructions to his followers, he fired curse after curse at the unfortunate defenders; they were no match for his supreme and prodigious skill. Stepping over corpses of Death Eaters and Hogwartians alike, he passed through the battle, halting only to aid his subordinates. He approached the Great Hall.
Voldemort's eyes grazed over the ongoing onslaught.
Now there were more, even more defenders retreating up the front steps, and he watched in glee as Rodolphus Lestrange aimed his wand at a hapless Professor Slughorn, who was begging for mercy upon the steps.
A red-headed figure flew out of nowhere, from behind Slughorn, the figure's wand raised at Rodolphus, a fierce look of retribution upon his countenance.
"STUPEFY!" the red-headed boy shouted, and Rodolphus subsequently tumbled down the marble staircase, unconscious.
Voldemort did not hesitate.
"Avada Kedavra!" he screamed, his wand aimed at the ginger-haired figure.
The jade bolt flew inches from the boy's head, hitting harmlessly against a wall behind him-
"CHARLIE!"
Voldemort turned his head towards the shout, and caught a glimpse of another red-head, whose face was warped in anguish; his two eyes trained on Charlie Weasley, having seen the bolt of green light nearly kill his sibling.
Voldemort elevated his wand.
And suddenly the red-head was gone, disappeared into the sea of fighters. Voldemort scowled. He had escaped, for now.
Voldemort turned back towards Charlie Weasley, but he too was gone. His eyes moved to the motionless form of Rodolphus. He walked swiftly towards it. Approaching the unconscious Lestrange, he took aim with his wand.
"Ennervate."
Rodophus' eyes sprang open and he jumped to his feet, wand poised. He became aware of the Dark Lord's presence. He dropped to his knees, his hands clasped together and raised over his bowed head in gratitude.
"Thank you, my Lord!" he said, voice filled with an almost revoltingly wholehearted thankfulness.
"Go, Rodolphus, join your comrades in battle, and do not fail me!" Voldemort said, pointing to the Great Hall. Rodolphus shuffled forward on his knees and dipped his head low, kissing the hem of Voldemort's robe.
"I shall not," he said, rising to his feet. Without another word, he spun around and sped off in the direction of the sounds of fighting.
Suddenly, Voldemort was aware of what sounded like the squeaks of a thousand animals behind him, in the Entrance Hall. Revolving his head, he caught sight of an extremely strange spectacle.
The house-elves of Hogwarts swarmed into the Hall, screaming and waving carving knives and cleavers, and at their head, the locket of Regulus Black bouncing on his chest, was Kreacher, his bullfrog's voice audible even above the din: "Fight! Fight! Fight for my Master, defender of the house elves! Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!"
They were hacking and stabbing at the ankles and shins of his loyal Death Eaters, their tiny faces alive with malice, and Voldemort watched in disgust and frustration as his minions folded under the sheer numbers of the horde of house elves.
Voldemort's eyes narrowed; even the house elves fight for Hogwarts, and my Death Eaters cower from them!
Hot anger shot through him, and with a large, sweeping flourish of his wand, he brought the tip down in one great flick, crying,
"CONFRINGO MAXIMA!"
All hell broke lose.
A massive explosion erupted from the center of the house elf onslaught, sending charred and dismembered bodies of the elves in all directions, showering over the fighters in the Hall. Death Eaters and Hogwartians alike dove in an effort to save themselves from the explosion and rubble, the latter showering over the area like meteorites.
Wasting no time, Voldemort proceeded into the cloud of dust and smoke created by the powerful spell.
The scene was utterly catastrophic.
Bits and pieces of house elves and fighters littered the ground, and a massive crater had formed where the spell had slammed into the earth. Groans of pain and agony floated to his ears from all around, as survivors of the blast lay upon the ground, wounded and disoriented, moaning for mother, or spouse, or death.
He smiled at his handiwork.
Voldemort strode through the pain and destruction, his obsidian cloak billowing behind him. Those that remained alive grew pled with him as he passed, but he paid them no attention. He scanned the debris-laden locale and his eyes fell upon one tiny prostrate figure in particular: Kreacher.
His eyes narrowed.
The house elf lay upon the ground, breaths coming in hurried and pained gasps, blood pouring from several large gashes on his bald head. As Voldemort approached the injured house elf, it turned its elongated head in his direction and let out a wheezy laugh.
"Shall the Dark Lord show this old and battered house elf mercy?" it croaked, half-laughing, half-beseeching.
At this, the Dark Lord cackled, raising his wand at the tiny elf.
"If it were only that easy. I shall spare you, Kreacher, if you join me. Join me, Kreacher, and you shall live. Reject your master, for Potter is dead. You are free from him; you are your own elf. Join me, Kreacher, and you shall live fruitfully under me. Join me, Kreacher, or I will be forced to bring this punishment down upon you."
The house elf stared into Voldemort's scarlet eyes for what seemed like an eternity, before he whispered, his bullfrog voice barely audible above the moaning of the wounded,
"My servitude belongs not to you…"
Quicker than the eye could have seen, Voldemort slashed his wand through the air, and poor, dying Kreacher became engulfed in flames.
Whipping around, the Dark Lord departed from the hall, leaving it, and the screams of the burning house elf, behind.
Returning to the Great Hall, he discovered a wild and raging battle occuring; the defenders of Hogwarts seemed to be gaining an edge-
The Death Eaters detected the arrival of their master.
The tides turned.
Voldemort watched as George Weasley and Lee Jordan were slammed to the floor by the combined forces of Yaxley and Walden Macnair, watched as Flitwick fell with a scream at Dolohov's hands, watched Hannah Abbot and Seamus Finnegan collided with a solid stone wall, thrown by Rabastan Lestrange. He watched as Fenrir Greyback tackled the youngest Weasley boy, Rookwood Stunning Aberforth Dumbledore, Thicknesse flooring the Weasley father and his son, Percy. He even glimpsed Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy running through the crowd, not even attempting to fight, screaming for their son.
A curse skimmed the side of Voldemort's head.
He jerked towards his attacker, infuriated.
It was not one attacker, but three: McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kinglsey stood before him, wands poised.
With an enraged roar, he began to duel, his wand moving in a blur, firing inexorable curses at his three challengers. They wove and ducked around him, unable to land a blow-
To his right, Bellatrix was fighting as well, dueling three opponents at once, like her master: Mudblood Granger, the Weasley girl, and the daughter of that nutter, Lovegood, all fighting their little hearts out, but Bellatrix was equal to them, and Voldemort watched as a Killing Curse narrowly missed the Weasley girl-
"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"
The eldest Weasley woman charged faithful Bellatrix, her wand drawn. Bellatrix roared with laughter at the sight of her new challenger.
"OUT OF MY WAY!" she roared at Bellatrix's three previous challengers, and with a swipe of her wand she began to duel. Voldemort watched with ire and trepidation as Molly Weasley's wand slashed and twirled, and Bellatrix's smile faltered and became a snarl. Jets of light flew from both wands, the floor around the witches' feet becoming hot and cracked; both women were fighting to kill.
The remaining fighters in the room stopped, watching intently as the two witches dueled.
"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" taunted Bellatrix, eyes wild, capering as Molly's curses danced around her. "When Mummy's gone the same way Freddie?"
"You-will-never-touch-our-children-again!" screamed the Weasley woman.
Bellatrix laughed, the same exhilarated laugh her blood-traitor cousin Sirius had given as he toppled backwards through the veil, and suddenly the Dark Lord knew what was going to happen before it did.
Molly's curse soared straight at Bellatrix, and Voldemort knew he must act. Fury surging through him, Voldemort slashed his wand sideways across the air, and McGonagall, Kingsley, and Sprout were violently blasted backwards, flailing and writhing through the air. Swifter than the curse that flew towards Bellatrix, he screamed out:
"PROTEGO!"
A massive shield erupted before Bellatrix, and the curse bounced harmlessly off of its pearly boundary. Voldemort turned towards the Weasley woman, and raised his wand, directing it towards her motherly form-
"Protego!"
Suddenly, another pearlescent shield erupted, this time, in front of Molly Weasley-
Voldemort's eyes widened slightly, but then instantly became slit with anger in an instant.
He whipped around; searching for the defiant one, believing it was an act of rebelliousness-
There, with a look of coolness on his bespectacled face, stood Harry Potter.
"Harry! HE'S ALIVE!" came the yells of shock, cheers, and screams from both sides, but they were soon stifled, as the gravity of the situation weighed down upon them.
Voldemort's mind raced wildly in a fraction of a second.
Potter! How! This cannot be! I KILLED HIM IN THE FOREST! It can't be- No…the Horcrux inside Potter. How could he have been so blind to this?
But contrary to his thoughts, his snake-like face instantaneously became a calm visage of confident certitude.
One shall live, the other must die. He knew this to be true, and all the pieces fit together inside his mind. They must duel one another. A true test of skill. He would not fall to Potter.
Immediately, the two enemies began to circle each other.
"I don't want anyone else to try and 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 Potter simply. "There are no more Horcruxes; -,"
Grief tinged Voldemort as the statement hit his ears. Nagini…
"-it's just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good…"
Read the rest of Voldemort and Harry's conversation, I have changed nothing, but I didn't put it in here. One more side note, Harry was unable to save Hagrid or Neville because the and he was carrying at the time of their deaths had fallen from his cloak, whilst he was carried by Hagrid on the Death Eaters march out of the Forest. Furthermore, the reason Harry could not save anyone else, such as Kreacher, from Voldemort as he passed through Hogwarts, was because Harry had returned to the Forest to retrieve 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."
No one moved; the air was still for a moment, tranquil and unmoving-
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. The high voice shrieked and Harry yelled as well, both voices mixing together-
"Expelliarmus!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
As the two spells collided, Voldemort gave one, final push of will: a fierce burst of magical power from deep inside him that he put behind that ultimate curse, a burst so strong it could overcome the magic of the Elder Wand, overcome Death itself…
The resulting bang of the spells was like a cannon blast, and strangely black flames that had erupted between them at the dead center of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided. Everyone watched as both Harry and Voldemort stood unmoved, but the wand of Draco Malfoy that Harry Potter had been wielding flew high, dark against the sunrise, spinning across the enchanted ceiling like the head of Nagini, the magic of the Elder Wand having been overcome by the sheer will of the most powerful wizard the world has ever known, Voldemort. And the crowd watched as the Boy Who Lived fell backward, arms splayed, the pupils of his emerald eyes rolling upward. Harry Potter hit the floor with irrevocable finality, his body feeble and shrunken, his hands empty, his boyish face vacant and unknowing. Harry Potter was dead, killed by Voldemort's tremendous curse, which overcame even the most ancient of magic that was the Elder Wand, and now the champion stood, Elder Wand in hand, a new, incredible magic flowing through his veins, staring down upon his enemy's shell.
One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspended: and then the tumult broke around Voldemort as the anguished screams and jubilant cries of the watchers rent the air. The fierce new sun that had risen between Voldemort and Potter seemed to grown dim; the light it emitted was growing duller and duller by the second. The first to reach Voldemort were Bellatrix, Yaxley and Dolohov, who flew to his feet and began to worship him, the rest of the Death Eaters sealing exits and rounding up the defenders-
The sun began to sink behind Hogwarts, and the Great Hall blazed with the joyous shouts of Death Eaters and the intermittent celebration hex shot into the air. Voldemort was an indispensable part of the outpourings of triumph and elation, standing tall and commanding at the apex of it all.
And even above the uproar, a thrilled cry pierced the air:
"I have done it!" screamed Voldemort, and he thrust the Elder wand into the air, a single black beam emitting from the tip and colliding with the ceiling of the Great Hall. The Enchanted surface instantly became grotesquely dark and black. He turned and with a swish for each one, blew out all the remaining windows, sending shards of glass everywhere.
The Death Eaters joined in, beginning to destroy any remaining relics, furniture, or fixtures in the Great Hall. The Hogwarts survivors stood or sat helplessly, all wailing, weeping, and mourning. Voldemort levitated the body of Potter and slammed it to the ground before his feet.
"It is over!" he cried.
Voldemort stood like a statue among the destruction and Death Eaters, who began to filter out from their master and encircle the defenders.
He turned and faced the mass of grieving survivors.
"Today," Voldemort began, his cold voice cutting through them like a knife, silencing them, "you have witnessed two defeats of your precious hero, Harry Potter, by my hand; let no more defiance continue, for all of you have seen my power. Potter is dead. Look, his body lies before my feet; I have slain him. I shall spare all of you, but if you continue to oppose my reign, I will not hesitate to end you."
Voldemort's voice died away, and for several moments, no one spoke. He stepped over Potter's body moved forward, inspecting the remaining defenders.
Granger and the youngest male Weasley huddled together on the floor, their faces stained with tears and contorted in misery. Beside them, the Lovegood girl knelt beside the body of the Longbottom boy, whose body was apparently dragged into the Hall. Shacklebolt was to the other side of Granger and Weasley, bound with ropes and kneeling. McGonagall, Slughorn, and Sprout stood together, all extremely distressed and weeping. To the far right, the entire Weasley family was located, clinging to one another and grieving.
Voldemort approached Shacklebolt.
"Ah yes, the head of the Order of the Phoenix, am I correct?" he said, voice silky.
Shacklebolt did not respond, but stared directly up into the Dark Lord's face, unwavering and defiant. Voldemort smiled.
All eyes were trained on Conqueror and Conquered as they stared at one another.
"Avada Kedavra."
Voldemort spoke the Unforgivable as if it were nothing; his voice contained not even the tiniest qualm, but instead relish as the curse was uttered. A radiant green flash went through the Hall, and the survivors gasped and began to wail once more as Kingsley Shacklebolt fell to the ground with a thud, eyes empty and body limp.
Voldemort turned towards the crowd, who were either all cowering or staring at him with unbridled hate.
"Let this not happen again: cooperate, and I will not kill you," he said, voice now chilling and deadly. "Now, pay your Master your respects and bow before me, or I will be swift in judgment!"
He watched in satisfaction as nearly all of the survivors, scant for the youngest Weasley male and McGonagall lowered themselves into a prostrate position, some meaningful and some forced.
Voldemort cackled.
"So brave, you Weasleys," Voldemort said, slowly striding towards Ron; he would deal with McGonall afterwards. "I will give you one last chance, Ronald, or your entire family shall watch as you die."
Voldemort raised his wand and placed it between the Weasley's eyes, who stared unspeaking up at Voldemort, who towered over the boy at nearly seven feet in height.
"Just do it, Ron!" said the Granger girl, who had her head bowed, brown curls curtaining her face.
"Hermione, how could-,"
"SILENCE!" shrieked Voldemort, who flicked his wand, causing Ron to fall immediately hushed. "Yes, do as she says Ronald, do as your little Mudblood friend has wisely advised-,"
It happened in a flash. Upon hearing the term "Mudblood", Ron had jumped to his feet, fists raised as if to strike Voldemort. In a second afterwards, Ron was suspended at least a foot above the ground, fingers scrabbling at Voldemort's long-fingered hand that held him tightly around the neck, choking him.
"FOOL!" Voldemort shrieked, and with a single, fluid twist of his wrist, broke the neck of Ronald Weasley.
"RON!"
The scream came from all over the room, and in an instant, Voldemort was aware that nearly all of the survivors had jumped to their feet and were charging the Death Eaters, who were laughing joyously at their attempt at a revolt. Voldemort released Ron's limp body and let it thud to the floor.
Voldemort watched as the final assault of the wandless defenders was instantly foiled, as the advancing Hogwartians were immediately cut down mercilessly by bolts of red light from the Death Eaters: Stunning Spells; Voldemort had ordered none to be harmed.
"ENOUGH!" cried Voldemort, and he extended his wand with ferocity; a deafening bang ensued as both Death Eaters and Survivors were thrown back, a shield placed between them. "Stop this insolence and cooperate! Bow!"
The non-Stunned survivors immediately resumed their bowed position, heads low to the blood and debris covered floor.
"I am your Master!" Voldemort shouted to the crowd of bowed Hogwartians. "Let this be ingrained upon your very soul: the Dark Lord's reign has begun, and he is your Master!"
The Death Eaters burst into loud cries of victory and jubilation and delight.
Voldemort continued:
"Hogwarts has fallen! It is mine!"
He thrust his wand into the air, and everyone present watched in awe as the very roof of the Great Hall was blasted clean off; so clean that no fragments rained down upon them.
He raised his hand to the Dark Mark upon his arm, and placed two fingers upon it; behind him, he heard the Death Eaters say as one:
"Morsmorde."
Voldemort looked into the sky and let out a joyous cry; the snake and skull were imprinted upon the sky even in the now fading daylight. Inhaling of the air, he looked back down upon the survivors.
A knot of mourners had gathered around three corpses: Shacklebolt, Ronald Weasley, and Longbottom; the grief-stricken people had their hands laid out on them.
Voldemort's eyes narrowed.
"Away from them!" he cried, and with a wave of his wand the mourners were blown backwards. "You will lament at the appropriate time! For now, I have much to settle in the wake of this war: the Ministry, all of you, and this castle, to name a few. For the Ministry, as dear Pius has perished, I have appointed at its head, Lucius Malfoy."
Gasps echoed around the Hall, and Lucius Malfoy stepped forward, head bowed and slightly shaking.
"T-thank you, m-my lord-," he began.
"Quiet, fool!" Voldemort hissed. "You have been chosen only because I perceive the leadership qualities in you. It is due to my mercy that as of now, you and your family are forgiven of your traitorous behavior and failures. Now go, begin the preparations for the Ministry."
Lucius backed away slowly..
"Yes, my lord," he said, his voice now sounding confident and smooth.
"Now, I must deal with you." Voldemort said, addressing to the crowd. He turned to the Death Eaters, who watched him with admiration and awe. "My faithful followers, the day we have waited so very long for has finally come, the day you all will all take the places in society you rightfully deserve, the day I have conquered my enemy, Harry Potter. As I am a generous master, you shall be rewarded for your actions in assisting me in claiming what is justly mine. As your prize, you may do with the females," he gestured towards the crowd of survivors, "as you like."
Hoots and shouts of approval broke out from the Death Eaters, who bowed to Voldemort and began to filter into the crowd of survivors, who were all suddenly magically trussed with ropes.
Voldemort watched as the Death Eaters perused the defenders of Hogwarts as if they were cattle. He watched as Draco Malfoy chose Hermione Granger, as Nott Sr. and his son Theodore selected the Lovegood girl, as Greyback dragged away a girl known as Katie Bell. He watched as Dolohov took two: Alicia Spinnet and Hannah Abbott, hauling them to the side by their collars. He watched with amusement as Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange grabbed ahold of bawling Fleur Delacour and ripped her from the arms of her shouting husband, Bill Weasley. He watched with a twisted smile as Blaise Zabini approached the Weasley girl, who was barred from him by three of her brothers, Charlie, George and Percy and her father, Arthur, who stood at the front.
"YOU WON'T TAKE HER!" Arthur shouted his face extremely red but eyes filled with panic.
"Out of my way," said Blaise lazily.
"NO!"
"If you do not move, I will kill you," stated Blaise, whose drawling voice was now tinged with irritation.
"YOU WILL NEVER TAKE HER FROM US!"
Blaise's eyes slit.
"So be it."
Blaise raised his wand, pointing it directly into the defiant face of Arthur Weasley.
But suddenly Voldemort's voice broke out over the hubbub, distracting Blaise, who lowered his wand.
"It is time! The trials shall commence!"