CHAPTER ONE –

History Abounds

Sunday, 21st June, 1998

Okay... I've faced Voldemort and not been nearly this nervous. Such were the thoughts of Harry James Potter, son of Lily and James Potter, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, the 'Boy-Who-Lived', the 'Chosen One', Witch Weekly's 2nd Most Eligible Bachelor (number one was still Gilderoy Lockhart, even though the man had blown his own brains out with a broken wand...), youngest Quidditch seeker in a century (actually, 112 years. Just because Hermione had sequestered him in the library one Tuesday afternoon, that didn't mean he was going to do Binns' essay, and the record books were right there...) and Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

If it's this difficult to ask out the female of the species, how the hell is the human race still around? I'm amazed we didn't die out millennia ago. He smirked to himself as a silly thought overcame him. Man, I wish it was like the caveman days. All I'd have to do is hit her over the head with a club, and drag her back to my room. He sighed wistfully. I'm so tempted to do that, anyway...

The object of his musings was barely six feet in front of him. He had told himself that he would not do this until Voldemort had been defeated. Dumbledore springing the prophecy on him two years ago had merely reinforced the compulsion, but school was ending in a few short weeks, and Harry didn't want to lose touch with her.

Of course, confessing his undying love was probably not the best way to open negotiations, but Harry's experience with girls was pathetically limited. He cast his mind back to the Christmas break over fifth year, the year when everyone thought he was an attention-seeking mass murderer (there's no such thing as bad publicity...) and Cho attempting to corner him in the Room of Requirement after a DA meeting.

While Harry was not the sharpest tool in the shed (even though his IQ was a mere six points less than Hermione's) even he could tell that Cho was reaching for the remnants of her relationship with Cedric. Harry was the last person to see Cedric alive, ergo, Harry's a suitable replacement as a boyfriend.

Of course, Harry running out of the Room of Requirement squealing like a piglet in abject terror had done nothing to bolster Cho's delusional feelings, which made her assisting Marietta betray the DA to Umbitch far more rewarding for her. He was still grateful that he hadn't made a bloody fool of himself by asking her to the Yule Ball in his fourth year. That would have been a little too embarrassing. Of course, by the time he'd worked up the courage to ask Hermione, she'd already said yes to Viktor Krum. Wanker...

The date with Parvati had been okay, since he'd made it clear that he was asking her in a polite, friendly way, and nothing more would come of the evening than some dancing, drinking, and polite conversation. Parvati had been a little miffed, but just watching the Boy-Who-Lived dribble over Hermione for the six hours of the ball had convinced her of the utter futility of lusting over Harry. She'd had a pleasant evening, performing in the opening dance with him, before sharing drinks and giggles with Padma over Ron's complete failure as a gentleman, and a few more dances with Harry.

The encounter with Ginny during his sixth year was one of Harry's less-enjoyable memories. Harry had returned from a lesson with Professor Dumbledore, why did it take him weeks to tell me about the Horcruxes, when we could've covered the material in a day? And that would've included making notes... before entering the common room to see the Gryffindor Quidditch team involved in a raucous celebration.

Hermione had been at the party, talking with Ron, and she watched the pretty red-haired chaser tackle Harry, wrapping her arms around Harry.

Harry felt the red blur tackle him, locking lips with him. He'd immediately clamped his lips closed, and felt his body shift to red alert. Adrenaline flooded through him, accelerating his system to 'fight or flight'. Neither option had seemed suitable, since running from the common room would embarrass both him and Ginny, and socking her on the jaw, while rewarding, would have done nothing to help his relationship with his best friend. Fun, but not helpful.

He'd pried her hands away, stepping back subtly, as he tried to explain to Ginny about a common misconception; Potter men didn't necessarily chase redheads. She glossed over the explanation, convinced that Harry was just playing hard (read: impossible) to get, and stepped towards him. He retreated to the kitchens, hiding like a coward, listening to Dobby explain... something boring.

Harry had gone back to the dormitory at 1am, hopefully late enough to avoid any confrontations. Of course, Ron had stayed up drinking Butterbeer (the alcoholic version, damn him!) all the time he'd been gone, and was slumped on his bed in a drunken haze. Harry's luck being what it was, his entry into the dorm room roused Ron, leading to an argument about 'leading his sister on'.

This fascinating difference of opinions, where inner beliefs and feelings were offered in a mature and expressive way by both parties, had ended with Ron trying to punch Harry, only to collapse in a drunken stupor. After Harry had put him in bed, casting the necessary charms to make sure Ron didn't choke on his own vomit during the night, Harry had collapsed, wondering when the hell he'd 'led Ginny on'.

The debate had continued on in the morning, with Harry making his points at loudly as possible, merely to exacerbate Ron's hangover. While fun, it didn't seem to get the message across. After yet another embarrassing conversation in the Great Hall, Ron came to agree with Harry's point of view. The broken nose, fractured ribs and baldness hex Ron had received from Harry had simply reinforced his opinions.

So, here he was. About to do something he'd said he wouldn't do. Ask her out. The misconception about Potters and redheads only applied to the last four generations. Anyone looking back would have noticed that Potter men always fell for the smartest witch of their generation. Since Lily Evans was the smartest of hers, the redhead mistake was compounded.

However, she wasn't a redhead. She had beautiful flowing curls of golden brown, with subtle highlights that caught the sunlight. At least, that was his opinion. Hers was that she had a bushy mess that was uncontrollable without a pint of Sleekeazy's Hair Tonic. Ron's was that she was secretly creating a suitable home for both Pigwidgeon and Hedwig. The one time he'd shared that opinion with her, she'd cast a shrinking hex on his genitalia, and hadn't take it off. For two months. That still made Harry laugh, even a year later.

He sat on the couch, staring across at her as she worked on her final revision. NEWTs were around the corner, and he knew she intended to pass with the highest grades in the history of ever.

She was reading a book about Runes, something that both baffled and bored him, biting down on her lip as she casually wound a lock of her hair around her finger. "Something up, Harry?" She asked, not looking up from her reading.

"How do you always know, Hermione?" He asked, amused.

She looked up, giving him a condescending look. "Please, Harry." She said primly. "I've known you for nearly seven years. You give off this energy that says you need to talk."

He chuckled. "You know me better than I know myself, Miss Granger."

"Well... yes." She said slowly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which, to her, it was. "So, tell me, Harry; what's bothering you?"

Harry cleared his throat, his nervousness making her smile. "Uh... it's not... bothering me, exactly... but there is something I need to talk to you about, Hermione. I'm just not sure where to start..."

She smiled at him. "Harry, has there ever been anything you couldn't discuss with me?"

He grinned at her. "Well, there was that weird rash I found-"

"Enough!" She interrupted, trying to mask her nausea. "I told you at the time that wearing deodorant down there would not work, Harry. You didn't listen, and you paid the price." She looked faintly green. "At least you didn't do it again."

"Hey, I'm slow, but even I learn." He watched her marshal her features back under control. "I promise I'll never spray deodorant there again."

"So, now you've managed to break the ice by making me want to be sick, can you tell me what it is you need to talk about?" She glanced at him, staring at her with an unusual intensity.

He fidgeted for a moment. "I wanted to talk about my dating life, Hermione."

"You have a dating life?" She asked mockingly.

"Why is it everyone says you're sweet, polite, prim and proper?" He asked, glaring at her. "Do you save your snarky evilness just for me?"

"Yes." She replied, winking at him. "I mean, come on, Harry. I've seen nuns with a better social life than you have."

"Thanks for that." He answered, slumping back in his chair. "You know, I don't think I've been insulted enough this week. Maybe I should go and look up the Malfoys for some extra Harry abuse."

"Stop being pathetic." Hermione replied, grinning at him. "You know I love you. Now, what about your pathetically non-existent dating life?"

He stood up. "If you're gonna pick on me, I'll come back later. You know, give you a chance to abuse some poor little first years or maybe set fire to Crookshanks."

She grabbed his hand. "Sit down, bloody coward." She sobered up. "Come on, Harry. Seriously. What about your dating life?"

The nervousness was back. Again. It seemed to want to take up permanent residence in Harry's stomach. "Haven't... haven't you ever wondered why I've remained so obstinately single during my time here?"

She shrugged. "I figured either you'd just not found anyone who interested you, or you were gay."

Harry just stared. "You... you thought I was either bored, or gay..."

"Yes." She replied simply. "I mean, there's been plenty of opportunities over the years. Cho practically jumped you in the RoR."

"Don't remind me." He groaned, before sitting up. "And you got that I might be gay 'cause I ran squealing from her?"

She chuckled. "Well... running crying like a frightened little child from a pretty, athletic girl who's totally into you does generally offer that opinion, yes."

"Hermione!"

"Fine, Harry. I know you're not gay." She said, holding her hands up in a mollifying gesture. "I must admit, I did occasionally wonder why you never dated anyone. You did have options."

"What about you?" He asked, turning the tables. "I never saw anyone around who could've become the new Mr. Granger."

"We're talking about you, Harry." Hermione said quickly. "Don't need to discuss me."

He grinned. "And suddenly the conversation becomes far more enjoyable."

Hermione glared. "I haven't felt the need to date, Harry." She said primly. "I've been far more concerned with my studies."

"Do you smell that?" Harry asked, sniffing experimentally.

"What?"

"Bullshit." Harry replied, grinning at her. "Wanna take another stab at that?"

She just rolled her eyes. "We're discussing your complete sexual inadequacy here, Harry, not mine."

"Aha!" Harry crowed. "So you admit your complete sexual inadequacy, Hermione? I'm shocked, really."

"People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, Harry."

"Ooh, low blow, Granger."

"Ah, suck it up, Potter." She grinned. "At least we'd know one way or the other about those rumours..."

Harry's response was cut off as his head exploded with agony. For a moment, Harry could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing but the overwhelming agony of the scar connection with Voldemort. He fell off the couch, rolling as half of his synapses overloaded, sending the agony from his head to his entire body.

After almost a minute, the pain subsided to a vicious throb, letting Harry's vision restore itself. He looked up, seeing Hermione bent over him, concern plastered on her face.

"Are you all right?" She asked, all playful banter gone.

"He's coming." Harry said ominously. "He's on his way here, now. Full army with him." Harry took a deep breath, hauling himself to his feet. "The Final Battle is here."


Harry stalked down the corridor, his shoes clicking against the old stone floor. As he made his way to the Headmaster's office, more and more people fell in behind him. Soon, he was leading the whole DA, plus a number of the older students who'd never really considered extra defence training as necessary. However, seeing Harry marching through the school, they began to realise just how foolish that delusion was.

Hermione was at Harry's side, marching with him step for step. She'd been with him for all of his time at Hogwarts, minus those painful two first months. Now, she was his confidant, his advisor, and his friend. The Final Battle. She'd almost heard the capital letters he'd assigned to it. She knew the cliché; when two men go out to face each other... only one will return.

Of course, like almost everyone else, she hoped that Harry would be the one to return from this battle. If he fell... it would be the end of everything. Voldemort would take over Hogwarts, and use it as a fortress to launch campaign after campaign against Wizarding Britain, devouring all resistance, using it to gather resources to launch a new campaign into Europe. Once he had control of Europe, he'd move on to America. One he controlled Europe and America, it was doubtful there'd be enough resistance left.

Harry had to win this fight, not just for himself, but for the population of the world. Not just the magic users, but the Muggles, too. She had as much to lose from this battle as Harry, so she'd stand with him. As she had for the last seven years.


They approached the Headmaster's office, standing before the gargoyle that guarded the entryway, when a series of alarms went off. The gargoyle started to move on its own, cycling downwards as something came from the top of the stairs.

Dumbledore was not panicking. No... not panicking at... oh, who was he trying to kid? He didn't feel fear when facing Voldemort, even though the best he would be able to hope for was a stalemate. Harry was the only one who could defeat Voldemort. But, as he'd told Harry six years ago in the Hospital Wing, 'to the organised mind, death is the next great adventure'. He was ready to face that adventure. He didn't even mind the thought that this would be his last day on Earth. As long as he saw Harry win, he'd be able to die happy.

When the intruder alert went off, he grabbed his hat and wand, heading straight away for the stairs. He'd need to organise a defence of Hogwarts, and make sure that Harry was adequately protected.

He jumped onto the stairs, clicking his tongue in impatience as they slowly slid down. The gargoyle jumped to one side, and Dumbledore came face-to-face with the young man he was hoping to find. "Harry?"

Harry's emerald eyes were haunted. He knew what the alarm meant. "He's here." He aid ominously. "It's time, Headmaster."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I wish it weren't so, Harry." He muttered, looking at the young man. "We're not ready for this."

The sound of chuckling broke Dumbledore from his reverie. "Once we reach a certain point of preparedness, Headmaster, having more time becomes a burden." Harry said. "It's time. We're as ready as we could be. With the destruction of all of his Horcruxes, Voldemort's mortal. There will never be a better time."

He nodded. "Very well, Harry. I have already summoned the Order. They are on their way. They should be here in minutes." He looked at the crowd behind Harry. "I don't suppose I could persuade you to take the students and hide while we drive him away."

Harry just snorted.

"No... I didn't think so." Dumbledore said, sighing in resignation. He led the group through the corridors, heading for the Entrance Hall. "Do you have any information regarding Voldemort's forces?"

Harry and Hermione had fallen into step with the Headmaster, the remaining students following the trio. Harry cleared his throat. "From what I can tell, he has a full army with him. Vampires, werewolves, the last of the giants, trolls, Dementors... you name it, chances are it's there."

"How does he have vampires?" Hermione asked. "It's still daylight."

Harry closed his eyes, his mind reaching into the link that he shared with the despotic monster. After a moment, he spoke. "Potions. He's given them all a potion that works like sunscreen. It's limited in duration, but it'll last for another couple of hours. Same thing for the werewolves. They've got a potion that mimics the effects of the full moon."

Dumbledore sucked air through his teeth raggedly. "This is not good, Harry."

"Could be worse." Harry replied, pulling his wand from his back pocket, ignoring Moody's safety tips about blowing off a buttock.

"And how could it be worse?" Hermione asked from next to him.

"Haven't got a clue." Harry replied nonchalantly. "But, I'm sure if we looked hard enough, we could find a way."

"Have I told you lately, Harry," Dumbledore said, the faint trace of a smile evident on his ancient face, "how much I don't like your sense of humour?"

Harry smiled. "Not since last Tuesday, Headmaster."

"I blame Sirius." Hermione said, reaching down and giving his hand a quick squeeze, before she pulled out her wand.

From one of the side corridors, Ron, Seamus and Dean approached, falling into step behind Harry. "Hey, mate." Ron said gravely.

"Ron." Harry replied. "Got an afternoon of work ahead of us, don't we?"

Seamus broke into the conversation. "All things considered, Harry, I'd rather have an afternoon full of Snape's potion essays."

Harry looked over his shoulder, gasping. "Seamus! How can you say such sacrilege?" He clucked his tongue. "I'd rather face Voldemort than deal with Snape's bloody essays."

The gallows humour, entirely inappropriate, managed to break some of the tension as Harry, Dumbledore and Hermione led the small group to the Entrance Hall.

"Harry!" A familiar and welcome voice called out. A pair of freakishly strong arms wrapped Harry into a hug, which he returned with all his might.

"Hey, Moony." Harry replied, before the arms changed, and a bob of pink hair filled his vision. "Hey, Tonks!" Harry squeaked as she squeezed.

Before she released him, Tonks spoke into his neck. "You be careful out there, Harry. Don't wanna lose my little brother."

"You, too." Harry replied, before pulling back. "Moony, have you asked her to marry you yet?" Both Tonks and Lupin erupted into fiery blushes, before shaking their heads slightly. "You daft old git!" He pushed Tonks towards Remus. "Get it done, now. I want a werewolf/metamorph godchild in nine months and a day."

Harry watched Lupin stammer for a moment, before Tonks just nodded, pouncing on the werewolf with a kiss that left Harry breathless. He turned to the next of his allies. "Mad-Eye, you sly old devil! You're still alive, old friend!"

Hermione was faintly scandalised at the familiarity that Harry was using, but relented when she heard Moody's rusty chuckle. "Alive and kicking, Potter."

"Ready to use those kicking legs on a couple of Death Eaters?" Harry asked, holding out his hand. Moody stepped forward, grasping Harry's forearm, while Harry returned the favour.

"Ready and more than willing." Moody said, giving Harry's arm a final pump, before stepping back. Harry, like all generals before battle, was making his way through the troops, exchanging a word, a joke, something to make them feel valued. And they all knew that with Harry Potter as the general of this battle, they were valued.

Harry raised his wand to his throat. "Sonorous. Okay, ladies and gents. Most of you, we've determined battle tactics over the last few months, so you know where you need to be. Allow me to clarify now. 1st years, you're runners for the troops outside. 2nd years, you're to protect Madame Pomfrey and the hospital wing from all comers. 3rd through 5th years, you guys are the artillery. Stick close to the 5th year prefects, they'll be giving you your orders. 6th and 7th years, you're under the command of the Order."

Harry waved his wand, conjuring something he'd been practicing on and off for almost a year. In his hands, a banner appeared, a piece of black cloth with the Hogwarts crest atop a pair of crossed wands.

"This is why we're fighting today. Voldemort wants Hogwarts for himself. It is ours, our school, our home. We will fight for it, until we can't fight any more!"

The crowd cheered, as Harry led most of them outside, the group of second years dashing towards the stairs.

Once of the field outside the doors, Harry turned to Ron. "Right. Let's get to work. Double ranks, Mr. Weasley."

Ron smiled, nodding. "Double ranks, sir." He turned to the assembled group. "Form two ranks!" The crowd quickly split, forming two longs lines, hundreds of students stood next to each other.

"And, Mr. Weasley... if you find anyone using spells not in the curriculum..."

"Take house points, sir?" Ron asked, winking at Harry.

"No. Give him a Butterbeer on the spot, Mr. Weasley." The crowd giggled nervously at the banter between the two men.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Shall we proceed?"

The group moved forward slowly, seeing the Dark army appear at the edges of the Forbidden forest. It was an intimidating sight; dozens of giants, hundreds of werewolves and vampires, a small army of dark creatures like Kappas and Red Caps jostling for position. At the head of each group was a band of Death Eaters, their masks glinting in the warm June sunshine.

Even though Harry couldn't see him, he could feel the presence of Voldemort, loitering at the back of the field, wanting to watch the mayhem he was about to cause.

"For Hogwarts!" Harry shouted, raising his wand in hand.

"For the Order of the Phoenix!" Moody shouted.

"For Harry Potter!" Hermione and Ron shouted together, starting a chant of 'Potter, Potter' throughout the group.

Harry smiled at Ron and Hermione, then winked at Dumbledore. "Catch you at the end!" He said, suddenly breaking into a run towards the assembled hordes. For a few moments, it was just Harry charging forward, seemingly towards his death.

Hermione suddenly went pale as she watched Harry charge against a thousands-strong enemy. "He'll get himself killed!" She whispered to Ron, before glancing at his face. "This is madness!"

Ron chuckled, before raising his wand. "But what magnificent madness!" He broke into a run, following his friend, hearing the sounds of other people charging ahead.

"Gryffindors!" Moody spat, as he started to hobble forward on his peg-leg. "Silly buggers'll get 'emselves killed every time."


Harry kept running, ignoring the rest of his allies for now. He wanted to get this battle over and done with. If he died... well, he'd take Voldemort with him. That was a promise he'd made last summer when Dumbledore had finally taken him to his parents' graves, shortly before the second mission to the Gaunt house.

While there, Harry had seen first-hand the spell that nearly cost Dumbledore's hand, and had managed to reverse the damage, restoring Dumbledore's hand to life. That curse would be seeing some use today. He already knew he who wanted to use it on, too.

Harry headed straight for the werewolves, already in the canine form, even though the full moon was three weeks away. "Argentum Telum Tempestas!" He shouted, waving his wand in a figure eight, before stabbing through each of the loops. The Silver Dart Storm erupted from his wand, thousands of tiny silver flechettes tearing through werewolf flesh like hot knives through butter. Many of the creatures shrieked as they died, cursing the day they'd decided to be on Voldemort's side.

Turning his attention to the almost-thousand vampires, Harry let loose a Dark Arts curse, designed specifically for defeating the creatures of the night. "Cruor ut Calx!" The blood to stone curse worked quickly, hardening the blood in a vampire's body within moments. They were simply dropping from battle, their bodies far too heavy even for the vampire-enhanced strength. Another advantage of the curse was that it would negate any potions the vampire had taken, meaning that more and more were becoming susceptible to the bright sunlight pervading the field.

By now, the rest of the Army of Light was entering the battle, picking enemies and starting to fight.

Harry watched dispassionately as the two armies broke up into a series of small duels and skirmishes. As much as he wanted to get involved, protect his friends and smite his enemies, he knew he had to focus on the big cheese.

He started forward, skipping round duels. He saw Remus Lupin duel with Pettigrew, Tonks and Neville Longbottom against Bellatrix LeStrange, Ron and Hermione against Snape and Malfoy. As much as Harry wanted to put down the vermin himself, Voldemort was here, and that required Harry's full attention.

He carried onwards, watching Death Eaters, Order members and school children fall, some to get back up, others staying down.


Dumbledore was engaged in yet another fight for his life. He'd seen friends, co-workers and his precious students fighting for their lives, but he couldn't dismiss his opponents. He was engaged in death duels with both LeStrange brothers, whose spell repertoires seemed to consist of the Cruciatus and Avada Kedavra curses. Fortunately, Dumbledore's primary skill was transfiguration, and he simply sent blades of grass, transfigured into small steel shields, to block each curse.

"Gentlemen, it would be in your best interests to surrender." He offered kindly, sending yet more shields between them.

"Dumbledore, you stupid old bastard!" Rastaban shouted. "You should just die! Our lord will kill you!"

Dumbledore, displaying the agility of a man far younger, span out of the way, sending back a stunner, simply replied. "He has been trying for decades, gentlemen, and-" He ducked a sickly yellow light, the Cruciatus, and straightened up again, sending a spell-chain of Reducto, Stupefy and Incarcerous. "And he has yet to succeed."

A new voice entered the battle. "Aer Pango Stupefy Incarcerous!" Dumbledore looked up to see a wedge of hyper-dense red air hit the two men, thrusting them backwards to the ground.

"Impressive, Harry!" Dumbledore praised. "Is that your new spell?"

Both men ducked as a wave of green curses flew towards them. Harry tossed back a couple of Reductos, before pulling Dumbledore to his feet. "Yep." Harry replied, his eyes scanning the field. "I'll tell you later."

Harry looked around, not noticing Dolohov approaching the two men from behind. With an evil grin, he waved his wand at the heroes, a long purple flame erupting from the end. Both Harry and Dumbledore felt the massive wave of magic and spun round, only to face a heart-rending sight.

"You shall not harm Harry Potter!" A small male voice shouted. Dobby leapt into the air, the flame whip neatly slicing the tiny elf in half

"No!" Harry screamed, casting a massively over-charged Reducto at Dolohov, reducing the man to a fine red mist. He didn't bother to check on Dobby. Nobody could survive being bisected across the chest, not even the indomitable little house elf.

Harry extended his wand to Dumbledore, who raised his own. As soon as the two tips touched, a shield erupted around the two men, powerful enough to block even an Unforgivable. Only one, though.

"I haven't yet been able to find Tom." Dumbledore reported, his face appearing old as the shield took a significant portion of his magic to maintain. Fortunately, it was only draining while in effect, so as soon as it dropped, he would be back to normal.

"He's here." Harry reported tersely. "Within a hundred feet, too."

"What will you do?" Dumbledore asked, watching McGonagall get hit by a Crucio. Harry glanced over, seeing his favourite professor struck down.

"Go!" He shouted, breaking the contact of his wand and dashing away. Dumbledore obeyed the command, going over to his deputy.

Harry cast a Leviosa charm on his shoes, rising above the battle. He saw the Light fighters looking demoralised, and decided to announce his presence. "Order of the Phoenix! Hogwarts School! We fight for the light!"

A number of the duels stopped, as people looked up to see Harry Potter, the 'Boy-Who-Lived' floating above them all.

Ron staggered over to Hermione, several gashes on his arms and chest from Snape's Sectusempra curse. "What the bloody hell's he doing?" He whispered urgently.

Hermione felt her heart rise into her throat. "I... I don't know..." She was genuinely concerned about this move... he was making himself a target!

A high-pitched malevolent voice filled the silent. "Avada Kedavra!" A bolt of green light, brighter than anything yet seen in the battle, soared towards Harry, impacting his chest and throwing him to the ground.

"No!" Screams from almost all of the light side filled the battlefield, as another figure rose into the air. He was immediately identifiable as the Dark Lord Voldemort, from the pale green skin, red eyes and bald head, with a pair of slits for nostrils.

"So ends the legacy of the 'Boy-Who-Lived'!" Voldemort crowed. He watched his warriors cheering as they realised that they had made the right choice, and their Lord would reign supreme. "I have won!"

A harsh screech interrupted Voldemort's rant, as a red blur flew from the sun, hurtling towards Voldemort with the speed of a missile.

"Hello, Fawkes." Voldemort said, not wincing as the bird started to sing. The song made the dark army flinch, causing seven vampires to combust into flames, and two giants to pass out.

"You haven't won, Tom." Dumbledore shouted, regrouping with the rest of the Order. "We will battle you until death."

"A short battle, Albus." Voldemort replied. "You will be dead in minutes. Without the Chosen One, you have no chance to defeat me."

Another blur of light short forward, something silver glinting as it raced towards Voldemort. Voldemort dropped to the ground as his chest erupted with black blood.

Fawkes hovered over the other blur of light, reforming into the last person any of them expected to see. "You know why you never win, Tom?" The arrival asked. "You talk too bloody much!"

Voldemort floated into the air, the damage to his chest repairing itself as he floated upwards. "Potter! I'm... surprised to see you still alive."

Harry Potter, the 'Boy-Who-Lived-Again', hovered in the air, a scant dozen feet from Voldemort, holding a very familiar sword in his hand. "Why's that, Tom?" He watched the wound close. "Hmm... bodily cellular regeneration." He nodded grudgingly at Voldemort. "Cool trick. Guess what, though. It's not enough to save you."

§How do you live?§ Voldemort hissed is Parseltongue.

Harry raised the sword. "All thanks to you, Tommy-boy."

§Explain!§ He hissed again.

"Horcruxes, Tom." Harry replied casually. "I've had a busy year with Professor Dumbledore. We went to the Gaunt house to destroy Slytherin's Ring. Melted Slytherin's locket in a bath of acid. Killed your diary with a Basilisk fang back in second year."

Voldemort's face was slowly dropping as the irritant explained how his immortality was threatened.

"I must admit, it was difficult getting Hufflepuff's cup, but a sizable bribe to the Goblins meant that we got it easy enough."

That's four... Voldemort thought, realising that he may have miscalculated his enemy slightly.

"Then, Ravenclaw's diadem. Hiding it in Hogwarts... Really, Tom." Harry tutted, rather enjoying the ashen look on Voldemort's face. "Didn't you wonder where Nagini went in April? She was a tough fight, but me and Albus... more than a match."

He can't have found the last one... Voldemort prayed.

"I'll confess, you had us confused with the last one. We thought you only had seven pieces of soul." Harry continued conversationally. There was no trace of a battle now. Everyone was watching the drama unfold with undisguised awe.

"But, you didn't, did you? You had seven Horcruxes, leaving you eight pieces of soul."

He knows... how?

"But, how to extract a piece of your soul from my own?" Harry asked. "That one stumped us. Eventually, I came up with a plan. A very good plan... carried a little risk, I admit."

§Tell me!§ Voldemort demanded.

"Since your soul fragment entered mine because of your killing curse, I had to be hit again with the same curse, from the same source." He bowed mockingly to Voldemort. "Thanks to you, I'm free of your taint, and you're mortal." He raised the Sword of Gryffindor with his left hand, and his wand in his right.

Harry knew this was a bad idea, but he just couldn't help himself. "You have been taught how to duel, Tom Riddle?" He asked, his green eyes glowing with power.

"First, we bow to each other." He flicked his wand, bending Voldemort's back, who was too in shock to resist. "Come, Tom, the niceties must be observed... Dumbledore wouldn't want you to forget your manners, would he?"

Voldemort roared in rage as the patronising tone of Harry, as he threw of the body control spell Harry was using. "You think to mock me, boy?"

Harry nodded. "I know I shouldn't, really, but it's just too damn easy, Tom."

"Do not call me by that filthy Muggle name, Potter! I am forever Lord Voldemort!"

"You are Tom Marvolo Riddle." Dumbledore shouted. "Last of the Gaunt family, last half-blooded bastard heir of Slytherin."

Harry smirked, before looking up at the Avatar of Light hovering next to him. "Start the ball rolling, Fawkes!" The ancient firebird erupted into song, weakening the dark while raising the spirits of the light. "Let's get it done!" Harry snarled to Voldemort.

Voldemort didn't respond with words, he instead sent a barrage of AKs at Harry, who simply cancelled the levitation spell on his shoes, dropping out of the way. Voldemort followed him down, his wand flickering as he sent AK after AK at Harry.

Harry just flicked the spells aside, knocking them to the left and right with the Sword of Gryffindor. He'd taunted Voldemort to get the man fighting, and he'd roared out of his corner with a heavy barrage. Harry hadn't had the opportunity to fire back his own spell.


Hermione and Ron restarted their duels with Snape and Malfoy, merely holding them back while they each kept an eye on Harry.

Dumbledore had rescued McGonagall from the Carrows, and managed to bind them, while a group of third years were acting as Jailors, levitating the injured Death Eaters off the field, where they were guarded by half a dozen Order members.

Lupin managed to get close enough to Pettigrew to use his fists. Even though he was a qualified Defence Master, with an impressive record of magic, he wanted nothing more than to get his hands around Pettigrew's neck. Aware that his silver hand was a threat, Lupin had simply hit it with an overpowered Incendio, melting the bloody thing off, leaving Pettigrew with a bleeding stump.

"Hello... old friend." Lupin spat, tightening his grip on the smaller man's neck with all of his werewolf strength.

"M-Moony..." Pettigrew hissed. "P-P-Please... stop!"

Moony released one hand, noting the calculating look on Wormtail's face, which vanished as the free hand balled into a fist, robbing the traitor of consciousness. "You lose." He said simply, drawing his wand and looking for another enemy to fight.


Harry was beginning to tire. Waving the Sword of Gryffindor like a baseball bat was slowly draining him of his strength. The series of cracked ribs he'd got when he hit the ground after Voldemort's killing curse had hit were doing him no favours either.

"Is that really all you've got?" Harry shouted, the act nearly robbing him of all breath.

Voldemort stopped casting AKs, before he smiled at Harry, the sight terrifying. "Not at all, Potter." Voldemort hissed in his sibilant voice. "Would you like to see what I can really do?"

And with that, Voldemort let loose the largest barrage of magic Harry had ever seen. Spell-chains, fifteen, twenty spells long erupted towards him. He managed to avoid most of the first chain, apart from a bone-breaking hex that shattered his left leg in three places. With a hiss of pain, he rolled to the side, casting a stasis charm on the damaged section.

Poppy, I will never question your healing lessons again! He swore silently. He stood up, using the Sword to help haul himself to his feet.

"How was that, Potter?" Voldemort asked conversationally.

"Not bad." Harry wheezed. "Maybe a bit more variety would be useful." He waved his wand, sending back his own chain. Reductos, Stupefys and Incarcerous spells erupted from the wand. The first two Reductos hit Voldemort's chest, reducing the bone structure to a wet ruin, which slowly started to heal.

Harry rushed forwards, using his magic to charge the blade in his hand, which started to glow a pure white. He slashed on Voldemort's chest, neck and the tops of his thighs.

The wounds started to close as Voldemort threw a banishing hex at Harry. The spell hit, throwing him thirty feet backwards, before he hit the rough stone wall of the school.

He feel to the ground. Sweet child of mine... Harry's dazed brain slowly rebooted. He took a quick inventory of his body, noting absently the agonising scream of pain from his lower back.

He coughed, feeling something fluid in his mouth. He spat it out, noting absently that it was blood. Hmm... Internal injuries. He breathed in, feeling another stab of agony. Must be my lung. With Herculean effort, he clambered back to his feet.

"Still alive, Potter?" Voldemort called, sauntering forward casually, looking for all the world like a man strolling through the park.

"Still here, Tom." Harry called back, spitting out another mouthful of blood. "Not going anywhere until you go."

Voldemort threw another series of bone-breakers at him, smiling as he heard the wet cracks of broken bones.

Harry dropped the Sword as the bones in his left arm practically liquefied. He dropped to his knees, hearing the light chuckle of Voldemort. Harry gritted his teeth, using his wand to freeze his arm and leg.

"I must admit, Harry, I've enjoyed this little duel."

"Fuck you and die!" Harry snarled, reaching for the sword again.

Ignoring Voldemort for the moment, Harry placed his wand against the hilt of the sword, noting that the sword absorbed his wand. He used his good hand to pick up the blade, before hauling himself back to his feet.

"You're doing much better than your parents, Harry." Voldemort laughed condescendingly. "They both fell far before this."

"My parents stand with me, Tom." Harry said. "They died for me." He raised the sword, dismissing the agony from his ribs. "What did yours do for you?"

Voldemort's smile vanished from his face instantly. "Do not speak of what you do not understand!" He hissed.

"I understand plenty!" Harry shot back. "Your daddy hated magic, and ran away like a coward, and your mummy embraced her death rather than be with you."

Voldemort sent another AK at Harry, who batted it away weakly with the sword.

"Let's finish this." Harry retorted as he limped forward.


Dumbledore and McGonagall had made their way over to Ron and Hermione, followed closely by Lupin. These were the five most powerful light-side fighters still actively engaged in the battle.

When Snape and Malfoy saw the two coming, they exercised the better part of cowardice and ran, not wanting to face five extremely powerful opponents.

"The... the giants." McGonagall gasped, severely out of breath after such a strenuous battle.

Remus gave a wry grin at Dumbledore. "Wheel of fire?" He asked, waiting for Dumbledore's nod.

Quickly, the five positioned themselves in a five-pointed star, their wands held in the middle. "We call on the power of all those combined!" Dumbledore intoned.

Each of them began to glow, as the power flowed from their bodies, down their arms, and in the tips of their wands. Dumbledore raised his wand, containing a tip of glowing magic, which he threw towards the giants. As it travelled, it grew bigger, flattening out to become a large spinning disc. It passed through the giants, wounding some with cauterised slices, actually killing others by chopping them in half.

Dumbledore dropped to one knee, feeling the strain of using such a powerful spell. He struggled back to his feet. "Let us see where we are needed." He wheezed.


Harry fell to the ground again, his left leg shattered beyond uselessness. He felt a wave of cold overcome him. Looking up, he saw three Dementors approaching, directly behind Voldemort.

"Hello, my friends." Voldemort said politely. "Would you care to feed on the boy?"

The first Dementor approached, it's demonic power causing Harry to hear voices in his head.

"No... take me instead of Harry..." The soft voice of Lily Potter filled Harry's brain.

"Expect... Expecto..." Harry tried to raise the Sword, hoping that the ancient blade would augment his Patronus. No... I will not have my soul sucked out! He chanted to himself, channelling all his strength, all his magic, into the mythical sword. "Expecto... Patronum!"

Prongs erupted from the blade of the sword, bigger than ever. Without waiting for a command from Harry, Prongs charged towards the Dementors. Instead of simply driving the demons away, Prongs tore into them with his antlers, ripping the beasts apart.

Harry watched, enraptured, as a series of small glowing balls of light rose up unsteadily from the ragged cloak, before rushing towards Prongs. The animal stiffened as they balls merged with him, before his glow changed from a faint silver to a blindingly-bright white. Prongs turned to face Harry, the stag equivalent of a smile on his face.

Thank you, Harry Potter. A multitude of voices said in smooth unison. You have freed us from a living hell. You may ask of us a boon.

"Destroy the Dementors." Harry said firmly, instantly. "All of them."

It shall be done. Prongs charged off into battle.


Dumbledore was duelling some lower-level Death Eater, ducking silly curses and hexes, when he noticed something different approaching the battlefield. It appeared to be an animal, if his memory served, it appeared to be Mr. Potter's Patronus charm, but he'd never seen one so large or bright.

Prongs demolished the Dementors nearest to him, absorbing more and more souls, growing larger. Dumbledore's jaw dropped as he watched the legendary unkillable Dementors being slaughtered like sheep.

"This is new..." He muttered, before resuming his duel.


Voldemort shrieked with rage as he watched his demonic allies be ripped apart by a single Patronus. The giants had fallen, the werewolves and vampires were being slaughtered by the Order, and too many of his Death Eaters had been captured or killed.

"You have cost me too much, Potter." Voldemort spat, after knocking Harry down with a flesh-liquefaction curse. "It is time for you to die."

Harry spat yet another mouthful of blood, feeling his lung slowly turn into ragged ruin. "Funny, Tom..." He stammered, once more climbing to his feet. "I was about the say the same thing."

"Shall we dance, Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked, raising his wand.

Harry didn't answer. He reached down, deep inside his soul, connecting with his magical core. He pulled every drop of his power, everything that made him Harry Potter, and sent it into the combined blade/wand in his right hand. With a hobble, he charged forwards, intent on finishing this fight.


Dumbledore watched a small group of surviving Death Eaters huddle together. There appeared to be about a dozen of them, huddled around a branch, which flashed blue. A Portkey. They were trying to leave.

He looked directly into the eyes of his ex-Potions professor, seeing the man sneer at him before he vanished in a trail of light. Someday, Severus... we shall have a reckoning.

There was a massive explosion behind him. Dumbledore spun round, casting a shield over himself as he looked for the source.

A body flew through the air, hitting the ground with a sickening crack of bone. Dumbledore, McGonagall and Lupin rushed forwards, closely followed by Ron and Hermione, to see the gravely injured Harry Potter lying on the field.

Next to his hand lay his wand, and a pool of liquid silver, with rubies floating in the mass. Next to the pool was another wand, this one Yew, a little bigger than Harry's Holly wand.

Harry's eyes were open, though glazed with pain. "Pro... professor?" He stammered.

"I'm here, Harry." Dumbledore said, not brushing the tears away from his eyes.

"It's... it's done, sir... He's dead..." Harry's eyes fluttered closed, as he exhaled slowly, not moving.

"Rest now, Harry." Hermione said, kneeling next to him, cradling his head in her lap. "You've won... rest now."