Thanks to Oracle92, The Glowing Mischief, Analie209, RemmyBlack, L.A.H.H., JoStone, Sister to the Dark Lord, flamingbunnies, LupineMoon and RavenclawRebel for the reviews!
The battle passed in a blur. Narcissa could never be sure, afterward, if the battle raged for five minutes or twenty. Nor could she remember details of all the dozens of tiny skirmishes she had seen at the corners of her vision as she defended herself and her son. What she did remember, with more clarity than she would have liked, was her sister.
Once Bellatrix got her bearings, she immediately scanned the crowd for her nephew. The malicious gleam in her eye alerted Narcissa to her intentions the moment their gazes locked. Narcissa raised her wand, but at that moment a spell hit her sister from behind and she whirled, furious, to face the attacker.
She remembered the Dark Lord, throwing curses and jinxes at whoever happened to cross his path. Over the roar of battle, Narcissa made out three words that fueled her rage: Kill the traitor.
Narcissa turned in a circle, shouting her son's name, and finally spotted him locked in a duel. The thought of firing a Killing Curse flitted briefly through her mind; then she thought of what would happen when the battle ended. Justice would be better served slowly, over a lifetime in Azkaban, than ended swiftly with a single curse. Her Stunner hit him square in the chest, and he fell to the floor. Draco spun round, smiling briefly; then his eyes focused on something behind her, and he raised his wand.
She turned, brandishing her wand, and wasn't at all surprised to see Bellatrix. Her fury rose.
"Get away from my son."
Her sister's eyes burned like coals. "He's a traitor, Cissy."
"Yes, Bella, I know. I've always known."
Bellatrix's eyes widened, and she raised her wand. Narcissa spun away, dodging the curse, and faced her sister again; but Bellatrix aimed her next curse not at Narcissa, but at Draco. Only Narcissa's Shield Charm allowed him to escape. Bellatrix's curse shattered the charm as it hit, and Narcissa landed heavily on the floor.
Anger burned through her fear as she got to her feet. For the first time ever, Narcissa looked at Bellatrix and didn't see the girl who had draped her arm around her shoulder and introduced her to the older Slytherins, who had corrected her homework and taught her how to make chocolate chip cookies. She didn't see the sister who had whispered with her about parents and teachers and who looked best in their Quidditch robes.
She saw the woman who tried to kill her son.
Narcissa's next Shield Charm was stronger; she stayed on her feet when it shattered. Surprise flickered across Bellatrix's face for an instant, but was quickly replaced by malicious pride. Her smile betrayed her thoughts: She wouldn't be beaten by her little sister.
Narcissa didn't remember every spell she cast. She didn't notice how long the duel lasted, or how many victors of other duels stopped to watch. Bellatrix's face—her burning eyes, her smug smile—spurred her. Narcissa fired curses faster than she knew she could, dodged so quickly she wasn't aware of her own feet touching the ground as she and Bellatrix danced with death.
Finally, Bellatrix began to tire. Narcissa plunged through her growing exhaustion and took advantage of the moment. Her next curse knocked Bellatrix to the floor. Narcissa didn't drop her guard, but kept her wand trained on her. A smile tugged at her lips.
"I'm sure Azkaban has missed you, Bella."
Bellatrix laughed, dabbing at her bleeding lip. "You know, Cissy, if the Dark Lord had allowed it, I would have tortured that son of yours myself."
It wasn't a Killing Curse Narcissa fired. But when it struck her heart, the effect was the same.
The Dark Lord's scream of rage made Narcissa spin around, wand at the ready. One woman didn't stand a chance against the Dark Lord, but she would fight as long as she could, survive long enough to save her son. She heard a woman's voice yell a curse close by, and saw Molly Weasley stood at her side. Kingsley Shaklebolt joined them, and Narcissa paid little attention to the curses she fired; she simply kept firing; avoiding death was her only goal now...
She didn't know which curse missed her by an inch, or if it had been intended for her or for one of her allies. All she knew was that the next instant, a voice roared "Protego!" The Shield Charm expanded, engulfing her, Molly and Kingsley, and the Dark Lord stopped for a moment. Only a moment, but long enough to find the source of the charm.
Narcissa laughed. Molly Weasley's hand flew to her mouth, and Kingsley Shaklebolt nearly dropped his wand. She glanced over her shoulder and saw her son, eyes wide, laughing in surprise and joy. Then silence descended over the crowd as every eye turned in the same direction.
Harry Potter stood in the center of the Great Hall.
"I don't want anyone else to try and help." Potter and the Dark Lord began circling each other at the same moment. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."
Narcissa's grip tightened on the stolen wand. Far be it from her to intrude on a duel between Potter and the Dark Lord, but the battle wasn't yet over. She took a few steps backward, found her son's wrist, and pulled him forward. Her eyes never left the pair in the center of the Hall. Her own breathing sounded too loud, too intrusive, in the silence. The Dark Lord's hiss was nearly deafening.
"Potter doesn't mean that. That isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"
"Nobody." Potter's voice was steady. "There are no more Horcruxes. It's just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good..."
She knew without thinking who would live. Potter had offered his life once already, and gained it back before any of the Death Eaters knew for sure he had died.
"One of us? You think it will be you, do you, the boy who has survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"
"Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me? Accident, when I decided to fight you in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn't defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again?"
Narcissa had to remind herself not to hold her breath. No spells had yet been cast, no curses fired, but this was a duel of a different sort: a battle of the wits. Harry would win the physical duel; would he hold his own in this one?
As the battle of words continued, Narcissa's doubt thawed. Potter had the upper hand from the beginning; that much became clear. The boy was the one asking the questions, while the Dark Lord was forced to save face by answering them. His voice grew more shrill as his panic grew.
"It matters not!" he cried at one point, and Narcissa started at the cackle he let loose. Beside her, she felt Draco flinch at the sound. "It matters not whether Snape was mine or Dumbledore's, or what petty obstacles they tried to put in my path!"
Narcissa was never sure, afterward, how long they circled each other, two wolves tearing at one another with words. Never once did Potter lose his temper. Never once did the Dark Lord's words catch him by surprise. It was as though the scene had been scripted long beforehand, and Potter was the only one who knew his lines by heart. Narcissa waited, watching, listening for the one line that would bring the Dark Lord to his knees.
"The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."
Had Narcissa been prepared, she might have laughed. Instead, the revelation shocked her as much as the Dark Lord—or her son, who glanced at her in surprise the same moment she glanced at him.
The Dark Lord recovered quickly—or appeared to. Narcissa thought he was merely covering his shock behind a layer of arrogance. "But what does it matter?" he said softly. "Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: We duel on skill alone...and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy..."
There was venom surrounding the name, and Narcissa felt a sudden surge of fear. What if she were wrong, and Potter was about to lose? Was she simply seeing what she wanted to see?
"But you're too late," Potter said. "You've missed your chance. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him."
He twitched the wand, and only then did Narcissa realize it was her son's. Potter's voice dropped to a whisper.
"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it? 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."
The sun rose over the enchanted ceiling, and Narcissa squinted from the sudden glare. She didn't see the spells fired, but their voices carried throughout the Hall.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
The spells collided with a bang so loud Narcissa nearly fell. The sun left her eyes and she saw the point where they met, saw the Elder Wand spin across the enchanted ceiling, as the jet of green light rebounded and hit the Dark Lord in the chest. He fell, eyes rolling backward into his head, and Potter caught the Elder Wand before the Dark Lord hit the floor.
Silence rippled over the Hall for a moment, only to be broken by deafening cheers from the crowd. Narcissa heard a shriek of joy and realized it was hers; it joined with similar cries as the thrill of Potter's victory swept over the Great Hall. Tears poured down her cheeks as she embraced her son, crushing him to her chest. When he pulled away, she saw he wept as well. Laughter joined the tears in an outpouring of joy too great for words.
The Dark Lord was dead. At last, at long last, her son was free.
