A/N: I'm sorry it's taken me a while to load up this chapter. It's been a bit of a busy week. I thought I'd keep Edward's point of view for this one. I figured it would make it more interesting—getting to see people's thoughts and everything.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy it. Please review!
At least five minutes passed before I felt calm enough to walk back into the Great Hall. I had needed the time to get it together; otherwise I probably would have ended up crushing some part of Bella during our reunion. Once I had finally regained control, and the urge to pummel everything to dust had diminished slightly, I walked back through massive doors to rejoin the others.
I heard the minds of my family before I saw them. They had finished gathering the bodies of lifeless students and were now huddled together in a corner of the Great Hall. Jasper was still suffering; he was sat against a wall with his head in his hands, fighting to stay afloat as the current of pain and anguish repeatedly threatened to pull him under.
How did I stand this? Even before I received my powers, how did I handle this day after day?
His thoughts flew to the comrades he had seen die in battle when he had served in the Civil War. Each time he'd lost one he'd felt a horrific stab of pain, but it had passed quickly in the rush of it all. Conflict, in his experience, rarely allowed people time to lament: the second you stopped resisting the overwhelming wave of grief, you made yourself vulnerable. Jasper's rank had meant that falling to pieces was an unpardonable offense: demonstrating strength and focus had been an absolute necessity, not only to set an example to his men, but to ensure their safety to the fullest possible extent.
He was at breaking point now, though: the emotional climate was becoming too much for him to bear. I could understand that—there had never been a time when I had regretted my telepathy more than I did now.
Mrs Weasley's thoughts were the worst. They conveyed a sorrow so bottomless that I myself felt in danger of falling—falling into somewhere dark and void of hope. I pulled out and did my best to block her; she reminded me too much of Esme and the inner turmoil that she had suffered after losing her own son.
As I approached my family, Bella noticed me and immediately ran into my open arms. Her face was stained with tears; evidently she hadn't been able to suppress the grief as successfully as she had hoped for. I pressed her against my chest and buried my face into her hair. Soon enough, she would learn that death had taken another of her friends, and her agony would be multiplied, especially upon realising that I had stood by and let it happen.
I had no idea what I would say to her. There was no way that she would ever be able to deem my actions justifiable. She was selfless; if I told her that I had allowed Harry to die so that she would have a chance at a better future, she would probably hate me. She should hate me. I hated myself.
Jasper's head snapped up as he discerned my shame and self-loathing.
Edward?
I averted my gaze, unable to meet the questioning eyes of my brother. It was the wrong move—it tipped him off and reinforced his concern.
What's happened? He demanded.
I couldn't stand to see Bella's pain accentuated. I realised that it was inevitable, but I wanted to delay that for as long as possible.
"Harry," I replied, whispering the word at a level she wouldn't be able to detect.
Immediately, Jasper was on his feet and as alert and rigid as the others, who all stood as still as statues, each one praying that I was not about to deliver news of a devastating kind. My breathing was hitched and ragged, so I inhaled deeply before I murmured out the story.
"Harry was the final Horcrux. Voldemort's soul became so unstable after he repeatedly ripped it to pieces, that he inadvertently divided it a seventh time when his Curse backfired on him the night he went to destroy the Potters. That fragment has been with Harry ever since, so whilst he lived … Voldemort would as well."
I squeezed my eyes tighter shut, unable to meet the eyes of my father. I felt like I had failed him too, somehow.
"I left the Hall to go after him … to stop him. But I couldn't. I know it's still inexcusable, but by allowing one death, I hoped to save a hundred more. I'm so sorry, Carlisle."
Edward, he thought, after a moment of silence. Son.
I opened my eyes. Carlisle's expression was full of sadness, but it was also one of understanding.
I can't imagine how hard it was for you to stand by and let him do it, but I know you well enough to see that you did it because there was no other choice.
"I should have dragged him back kicking and screaming. I shouldn't have let him do it."
If it had been the other way around, he continued carefully, and you had been the final Horcrux, would you have sacrificed yourself, knowing that more people would die if you chose not to, and that Bella could very well be one of them?
"Of course I would," I whispered, affronted. "You know what I'd do if anything were to happen to her."
And the others? If you knew Bella would be safe regardless of your decision?
I thought for a moment, before giving my head an infinitesimal shake. It was slight enough that Bella wouldn't have felt it.
"I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I had to battle that kind of guilt. I already have enough of that to last a life time."
"Then don't blame yourself for something when you know it was the right thing. Harry obviously knew it. He was brave. It was his virtue—not your faults—that brought about his death."
He smiled at me then, but it was bleak, and his eyes quickly flew to Hermione and Ron, who were standing further up the hall locked in an embrace. Hermione's face was buried in the crook of Ron's neck, her arms locked firmly behind his head, whilst he pressed his face into her hair. Drops of moisture were scattered over the strands, and sparkled like tiny diamonds in the amber light of the surrounding torches. There were more clinging to Ron's collarbone, each of which had left a glimmering trail along his skin.
"How do we tell them?" Alice asked, looking in the same direction as Carlisle's. Her gaze flicked briefly to Bella then, before it settled on me.
In truth, I had absolutely no idea. I was about to enlighten my sister of that fact when the high, cold voice echoed through the air for the third time. Everyone fell silent immediately.
"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone."
My jaw clenched and a low menacing snarl ripped through my teeth. In that moment, there was nothing in the world that I wanted more than to tear Voldemort to shreds. I wanted it for Harry, for Bella, for Fred, and for the countless innocents that were suffering in the cells of Azkaban.
Horror was visible on the face of every human in the ensuing moments as they battled feebly against the terrible words and the awful truth.
"The battle is won," Voldemort continued. "You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle, now, kneel before me, and you will be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live, and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."
The cruel voice fell silent, only to be replaced by the shrill and anguished cries of Professor McGonagall as she ran the length of the Hall towards the exit.
"Out of my way!" she screamed, her eyes thick with tears. Please! Please let it not be true! Not him … not Harry!
"Please," Bella begged, echoing the thoughts of her teacher, "tell me he's lying, Edward. Tell me Harry's alive."
I couldn't speak. All I could do was stare into her tortured, chocolate eyes as they welled with fat, glistening tears. Her breathing became uneven as she gasped in giant breaths of air. Her eyes flashed to the door, through which the students, teachers, and families were flying, their wands clasped tightly as they headed for the front line.
Bella disengaged herself from my embrace and pulled both wands from her pocket, before she sprinted off after the rest to meet the Death Eaters, my family and I running beside her. McGonagall's scream ripped the air just as we emerged into the open. It was followed by three haunting cries from Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, as each broke free of the crowd.
The sound was a trigger—like the resolute pressure that pushes the first domino, in turn ensuring a similar fate for the others in the chain. The crowd erupted in shouts and screams of abuse, all directed towards the common enemy, who trembled with fury at the continued resistance.
I lurched forward into my hunting crouch, relishing the opportunity to destroy the monster once and for all. I felt a feral snarl building in my chest, but a whisper at my ear quelled it before I had the chance to set it free.
"Edward," Emmett whispered, his voice unusually rough in his urgency, "his neck. Look at Harry's neck."
I followed his instruction, allowing my line of sight to drop to the boy laid at Voldemort's feet, my body freezing completely as I was met by an impossible image. There, clear and strong beneath the dirty-covered membrane of skin, was irrefutable proof that there was still reason to hope: somehow, despite the absolute impossibility, Harry Potter was alive, his pulse giving testimony to that one perfect truth, reinforced by the resurrection of his mind.
I unfroze and straightened, my head turning fractionally to the side so that I could meet the eyes of my family. I nodded, before focusing my attention on Bella.
She was screaming along with the others, overcome by both fury and grief. Voldemort flashed his wand time and again in an attempt to silence the crowd, but nothing he did was strong enough to hold them.
"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," Voldemort raged, after flourishing his wand once more to stifle the opposing voices.
I took my chance and pulled Bella into me, understanding that it would be far easier to get her attention whilst she was forced into silence.
"He's not dead."
She jerked and suddenly became rigid.
"He has a pulse, and I hear his mind," I murmured in her ear, ensuring that it was at a level that only she and my family would perceive. "Ready yourself. It's about to start."
As her eyes met mine, I saw that they were swimming with gratitude. I felt a slight pressure on my palm, and looked down to see that she had transferred the yew wand to her left hand in order to lace her fingers through mine. I guessed that she was using all her strength as she squeezed my palm in thanks, because her knuckles had turned white. In the next second, her hand had separated from mine, which was then replaced by her wand again. She turned back to face Voldemort, her eyes narrowing as concentration and determination swept her beautiful features.
Suddenly, a voice demanded my attention: it was so loud and indignant that it blocked out everything else, and I almost mistakenly assumed that the words were spilling forth orally. But they weren't; they formed the mental war cry of Neville Longbottom as he charged towards the snake-like man, his every thought centred on Nagini, which no longer resided within a protective bubble.
Before he could reach Voldemort and his creature, however, a Death Eater threw himself forwards and tackled him. The Death Stick flashed and Neville's wand went flying as a resounding bang filled the air.
"And who is this?" Voldemort hissed softly. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"
A woman with wild, dark hair on his right gave a joyful laugh.
"It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"
"Ah yes, I remember," said Voldemort, who regarded Neville with a glint of amusement in his eye as the boy struggled back to his feet.
If it hadn't been for Neville's thoughts I don't think I would have been able to prevent myself from leaping at the enemy and crushing every bone in his body.
Kill the snake. I have to kill the snake, he chanted, repeating the words over and over so that they formed some kind of mantra. And there it slithered, so close and exposed, completely unaware that its master was not the intended target of Neville's courageous charge. I forced myself to remain still, placing every ounce of hope and trust that I had in the Hogwarts warrior, willing him to finish the deadly reptile once and for all.
"But you are a pure-blood, aren't you, my brave boy?" Voldemort ask.
"So what if I am?" Neville replied, the disgust clear in his voice.
"You show spirit, and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom.
"I'll join you when hell freezes over. Dumbledore's Army!"
The students behind him, including Bella, released mighty cheers in response and support of Neville's rejection.
"Very well," said Voldemort silkily, his tone dripping with the threat of danger. "If that is your choice, Neville Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head … be it."
Just before he could flash his wand, I threw myself into his mind, desperately praying that I would be able to discover his plan and stop him before he had the chance to initiate it. His mind was filled with images of a tattered old hat, which immediately propelled me into a whirl of confusion.
Accio Sorting Hat.
I heard the whistling of air from somewhere inside the castle, as the hat shot along the corridors. A little way off in the distance, there was a hammering of feet against the earth—a far off stampede that seemed to be heading towards Hogwarts. A loud smash from above announced the hat's arrival as it shot through a high window, shattering the glass as it did so.
Nothing made sense; surely Voldemort could dispose of Neville with a Killing Curse? Once again, I plunged myself back into his evil mind, only this time I was met by a horrific imagining. I saw Neville standing as still as a statue, the rim of the hat falling over his eyes, whilst both he and the material burnt madly, completely overcome by licentious flames, which licked passionately at his flesh and robes.
The second the image assaulted my thoughts, I had resumed my crouch again, every muscle in my body coiled to spring. I felt my face crack into a vicious snarl as my chest bubbled with hate. Although the others did not know the reason behind my fury, they knew that it could only have been provoked by Voldemort's wicked schemes; as a result, they followed my lead, leaning forwards in preparation, their venomous teeth bared and ready.
All of a sudden, a recent memory flooded my mind.
I was in the Room of Requirement listening to Ron's thoughts and narrating them to Bella and my family.
The sorting hat, Bella explained. Harry pulled the sword out of it in second year. It presents itself to those who demonstrate courage. It's the quality which defines true Gryffindors.
My mind switched to another memory, the one when Bella and I had revealed to Harry, Ron and Hermione our knowledge of the Horcruxes. Hermione had said that it wasn't possible to destroy them through strength alone, and that they had to be put beyond magical repair.
The Sword of Gryffindor is tipped with Basilisk venom … which only has one cure.
Voldemort proclaimed that the Sorting tradition at Hogwarts school was over, and that every student would live under the 'noble' emblem of Salazar Slytherin. Then he flicked his wand, causing Neville to grow stiff and unmoving, before he stuffed the hat down onto his head. The Death Eaters raised their wands at the opposing Wizards and Witches, immediately after which their master flicked the Death Stick and set the hat alight.
Rosalie released a menacing snarl whilst the humans screamed in horror. She was about to throw herself forwards in a fit of rage, but I grabbed a hold of her just in time and forced her back.
"Not yet!" I urged. "Not until the last possible mome—"
"He's about to go up in smoke, Edward!" she cried.
"Just wait. Please trust me!"
Her head whipped to Neville, before her eyes zoomed beyond him into the distance, where an enraged army were storming over the school boundaries and hurtling forwards, screaming at the tops of their lungs as they flew for the Death Eaters, each one possessing a look of primal, blood-thirsty hunger. A loud rumble vibrated through the ground as a mammoth of a man came into view. He let out a desperate yell, only to be met by an angry surge of enemy giants, the force of their collision and resultant combat causing the earth to quake.
It was the second after the centaurs at the edge of the forest released a rain of arrows that it happened.
A voice in Neville's ear cried, "We are burning, boy. We are finished."
I'd rather burn than join him!
Suddenly, a clunk issued from inside the hat, and I knew without doubt that it had worked. Neville's body unfroze; his muscles seemed to act of their own accord, propelled into movement by the desperate need to fight. As the hat fell, he pulled from within its depths the silver hilt of a ruby encrusted sword. In one swift and fluid motion, he swung it high above is body and, with a mighty cry of true, heroic courage, brought it down upon the head of the snake.
Voldemort's murderous scream immediately pierced the air, as he cast a Curse in Neville's direction. It reflected off a shield though, just as the cries of the half-giant carried over the heads of the fighters.
"HARRY! HARRY—WHERE'S HARRY?"
"He's under the cloak!" Alice whispered to Bella, who was scanning the area in panic. "Go!"
I scooped Bella up into my arms, and ran for the castle. The multitude on the other side of the Death Eaters was forcing them backwards towards the Hogwarts entrance. As we broke through the doors, Bella fired two flares of red light over my shoulders, one from each wand, instantly ducking as a Curse flew back at her from a retaliating foe.
"Put me down," she said.
I followed her command and lowered her to the floor, before throwing myself at the Death Eater who had dared to aim a Killing Curse at my fiancée.
"She's engaged to a Vampire, you moron!"
My foot made contact with his chest, thrusting him backwards at a deadly speed. His head cracked into the stone wall, and he crumpled instantly to the floor, nothing more than an empty shell.
I continued to attack the oncoming Death Eaters, all the while ensuring that Bella occupied some portion of my attention. She duelled as fiercely as a lion, and there was no more than a second's interval between each spell she cast.
"Defindo!" she shouted, aiming a wand at the massive, metal bracket fastened to the wall above one of the Death Eaters. It fell and cracked the man on the back of his skull, instantly rendering him unconscious.
Then she was shooting ropes out of the other wand, which flew through the air and wrapped around the body of a another cloaked figure, preventing him from firing a Spell at Dean Thomas. He struggled violently against the binding; perhaps, Bella's next spell was a means of deterring such behaviour. With a flick of the mahogany wand, the ropes transformed into a giant, hissing, anaconda, which eyed the Death Eater hungrily. It opened its jaws and revealed its fangs. The man stopped his struggling immediately, overwhelmed by terror as he looked into the bright yellow eyes of the snake; only then, as the Death Eater ended his battle for freedom, did the creature close its deadly jaws—though its face remained hopeful.
"You're really good at this kind of thing, aren't you," Rosalie said right before she swung a Death Eater through a stained-glass window.
"Transfiguration always was my best subject," Bella explained, a slight smile on her face as she blasted another enemy against the castle wall.
We continued to fight in the ensuing minutes. Whenever a curse threatened to hit one of the students, either Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie, Alice or myself would launch forward and block its path; Emmett and Jasper, on the other hand, had remained outside to battle the giants.
I searched for their minds, concerned for their safety. My worry, it seemed, was unnecessary. Both had hold of two separate Giants, and were competing to see who could throw them the furthest. They gripped the Giants' feet and swung them round as if contending for the hammer-throw gold in their Vampire Olympics. Jasper's Giant didn't quite make the lake; it crashed into the earth a few feet from it, and lay unmoving after the force of the fall. Emmett's Giant, on the other hand, plummeted just off the centre of the watery expanse. As its head broke the surface, it screamed and thrashed, whilst a colossal tentacle rose from beneath and wrapped around the Giant's head, which was pulled out of view in the next second. A few enormous bubbles broke through the water, before the lake resumed its calm appearance once again.
"Yes!" In your face!" Emmett boomed at Jasper.
"Unbelievable," I muttered, retracting my focus from my idiot brothers.
Suddenly, a war-cry from my left caught my attention, and an army of odd looking creatures swarmed into the Entrance Hall, each one wielding kitchen implements which they used to attack the Death Eaters, screaming manically as they went.
"Fight! Fight!" ordered the leader. "Fight for my master, defender of house-elves! Fight the Dark Lord in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!"
And fight they did, like ferocious little warriors, sinking their carving knives and teeth into the legs of the enemies. One of them even proceeded to bash the incarcerated Death Eater over the head with a sauce pan until he lost consciousness. The snake never moved to stop the enraged creature; it merely watched the entire thing with a look of indifference.
Before long, the Entrance Hall grew so cramped that we were forced to move through to the Great Hall. The horde spilled in after us, and within a matter of minutes, students and parents were arranged around the edges of the room, whilst Voldemort and the wild-haired woman, who I soon learnt was named Bellatrix Lestrange, occupied the centre. The latter was engaged in a duel with Hemione, Luna and Ginny, whilst her master stood battling McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley.
All of a sudden, Mrs Weasley ran at Bellatrix, infuriated by the fact that she had very nearly caught Ginny with a Killing Curse.
"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"
Bellatrix released a mad cackle as the woman approached her.
"OUT OF MY WAY!" Mrs Weasley shrieked, before immediately throwing her first Spell at her opponent and commencing their duel. Light flew this way and that, the floor at the centre growing hot and cracked as the Curses met.
Jasper and Emmett joined us then, and we all looked on towards the middle of the Hall as the two separate battles unfolded. The wands of the watching students, teachers, and newcomers no longer flourished; instead, they hung peacefully at their masters' sides.
"Can you see anything yet, Alice?" Jasper whispered.
She shook her head in response.
"There are too many creatures here. Maybe it isn't only werewolves that block my visions."
My eyes flew to Bellatrix as she erupted into another fit of laughter.
"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" she taunted, dancing around the Curses that were flying her way. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"
Six deadly growls ripped through the air, immediately drawing the Witch's attention. She looked at my family and her eyes widened slightly. Our small distraction threw Mrs Weasley a window though.
In a voice that was a mix of both sheer desperation and hate, she screamed, "You—will—never—touch—our—children—again!"
And then a flash of green light flew at Bellatrix, and before she had time to lift her wand in defence, it hit her right on the chest, directly above her heart, which stopped beating immediately. She tumbled backwards against the floor, the thud of the fall accompanied by a huge joyful roar from the onlooking crowd. Bella cheered too, as did my brothers and sisters. I, on the other hand, had my attention fixed on the mind of the invisible boy who was standing between the victorious Mrs Weasley and the furious Voldemort.
Voldemort released his anger in a manic scream, the force of his spell sending the three other duellers flying backwards through the air. Kingsley and Slughorn were saved from a painful impact by Flitwick, who twirled his wand quickly, suspending their bodies before they could collide with the ground. McGonagall, however, flew in the opposite direction. She would have smashed straight into the solid wall and obtained critical injuries, only she was saved by my chivalrous, golden haired brother, who reacted immediately, pouncing into the air and rescuing her from the blow.
Jasper placed her on her feet next to Bella, in the same second that Harry fired a shield between Voldemort and Mrs Weasley. Everyone looked around for the source of the sound, and Harry satisfied them by pulling off his cloak, exposing himself for his final battle.
Screams and cheers of shock and jubilation exploded through the air as the Hall reacted to Harry's return. Their relief wasn't my key interest though. I searched for Voldemort's thoughts, desperately tempted by his secret reaction. On the surface, he looked calm, yet livid in the same moment; beneath it all, however, lay nothing but a whirlwind of overwhelming fear.
Not possible! Dead! Dead! I killed him! I destroyed him with the Elder Wand! He cannot be alive! It is an impossibility! But there he is! Alive! Alive when he should be dead!
"I don't want anyone else to try and help," said Harry, as he and Voldemort began to circle, their wands pointing directly at one another. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."
"Potter doesn't mean that," hissed Voldemort. "That isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"
"Nobody," Harry answered simply. "There are no more Horcruxes. It's just you and me. Neither can live whilst the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good …"
How could he possibly have known? How could Dumbledore have discovered my secrets? Secrets that I never confided to anyone!
"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?"
Externally, Voldemort conveyed absolute confidence in his ability to defeat Harry; beneath the façade, however, he was terrified of Harry's ability to cheat death. He saw the boy as some kind of phantom, one who would remain tied to the world of the living until he could finally managed to pull Voldemort back through the veil with him. In his eyes, Harry may as well have been carrying a scythe and an hour glass, for he had ironically and paradoxically become the living Reaper.
"Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me?" asked Harry. "Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn't defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again?"
I focused in on Harry's thoughts, and for one brief moment, I saw an image that, according to him, was of the place that he had visited after being hit by the Killing Curse. It was a grand hall with a sparkling glass dome for a roof. There was an old man sat there, and he had a great, white beard and wore half-moon spectacles. If it hadn't been for the fact that I had seen the same face in the minds of others as they thought of the old Hogwarts headmaster, I probably would have presumed that the man was God. He certainly looked the part in my opinion. In fact, this entire thing seemed freakishly close to the Christian story: an omniscient being sending his protégé to die to save the world from evil, evidently aware that the very same boy would have the power to achieve his own resurrection.
That was the pivotal moment—the one where my fear for Harry swelled into belief. Dumbledore had obviously understood some of the deepest and oldest magic. If he had encouraged Harry's return, all-knowing as he seemed, he must have believed that his pupil truly did have the power to end Voldemort once and for all. That was enough for me.
"Accidents!" roared Voldemort. "Accident and chance and the fact that you cowered and snivelled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!"
"You won't be killing anyone else tonight," replied Harry. "You won't be able to kill any of them ever again. Don't you get it? I was ready to die to stop you hurting these people—"
"But you did not!"
"—I meant to, and that's what did it. I've done what my mother did. They're protected from you. Haven't you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can't torture them. You can't touch them. You don't learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?"
Voldemort's fear instantly morphed into a blaze of fury, outraged by the Harry's use of his name, and even more enraged by the fact that he had done so in front of hundreds of witnesses. He detested anything that associated him with the non-magical world and his father. I felt my eyes bulge as I discovered that he had murdered the man.
"You dare—"
"Yes, I dare," interrupted Harry. "I know things you don't, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things you don't. Want to hear some of them, before you make another big mistake?"
Voldemort jeered, taunting his adversary with the fact that Dumbledore had been foolish enough to value love above the greatest magic. The terror surged through him once again as Harry informed him that he believed he possessed magic and a weapon more powerful than anything belonging to Voldemort.
The proclamation effectively launched the two into an argument regarding the Deathstick, where Harry revealed Dumbledore's final plan and the true nature of Severus Snape.
No matter, thought Voldemort, relieved that Harry's revelation was nothing more than Snape's duplicity. Snape is dead. Whether he was working for Dumbledore or not is now irrelevant. He is gone, and I am the master of the Elder Wand.
"Dumbledore was trying to keep the wand from me," he cackled. "He intended that Snape should be the true master of the wand! But I got their ahead of you, little boy—I reached the wand before you could get your hands on it, I understood the truth before you caught up. I killed Severus Snape three hours ago, and the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny is truly mine! Dumbledore's last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!"
"Yeah, it did," said Harry. "You're right. But before you try to kill me, I'd advise you to think about what you've done … think, and try for some remorse, Riddle …"
"What is this?"
"It's your one last chance," Harry continued. "It's all you've got left … I've seen what you'll be otherwise…" His mind filled with the memory of a flayed and naked child. It was laid on the floor of the limbo hall, whimpering in terror, its body arranged into the foetal position. "Be a man … try … try for some remorse …"
"You dare—"
"Yes, I dare," interrupted Harry, again, "because Dumbledore's last plan hasn't backfired on me at all. It's backfired on you, Riddle.
"That wand still isn't working properly for you, because you murdered the wrong person. Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore."
Voldemort tried to argue, but Harry cut him off in his determination to show him his greatest mistake yet. He informed him that Dumbledore's plan would have left him unbeaten, for Snape would have been killing him under the headmaster's orders and, therefore, the power of the Elder Wand would have died with him.
But I stole it: I stole it against Dumbledore's wishes. It's power is mine now!
Voldemort proceeded to voice his thoughts, which, in turn, sent a surge of frustration through his opponent.
"Didn't you listen to Ollivander? The wand chooses the wizard … the Elder Wand recognised a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realising exactly what he had done, or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance …"
Lies! Snape killed Dumbledore. The others confirmed it! They witnessed the death!
"The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."
Three separate gasps reached my ears. One had come from Draco himself, whose thoughts were in a whirl. I had expected to find regret upon entering his mind, but all I could detect were utter shock and paralysing fear. He remembered that he had disarmed his old Headmaster, and knew that his action would lead him to the same fate as Snape. The second gasp had come from the woman at his side, whose thoughts mirrored Draco's.
Not my son! He will kill him for sure! He's going to kill my son!
The third gasp had come from Hermione. Her eyes bulged and flew to the weapon in Harry's hand, then to the Slytherin boy, who was being clutched tightly by his desperate mother, and finally back to the wand.
He took it! He took it at the Malfoy Manor. He mastered Draco's wand!
And suddenly Hermione was on the same wavelength as Harry. She saw where the conversation was going, as did I, my eyes snapping to the mahogany stick that Bella had won from the Death Eater. I looked briefly back at Hermione, whose eyes seemed to sparkle as she looked on towards the centre of the hall, her breathing accelerating with the force of her elation and hope, before I shot my gaze back to the circling pair.
"But what does it matter?" said Voldemort 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 …"
"But you're too late," smiled Harry in response. "You've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him."
He twitched the wand, and Voldemort's heart immediately flew into double-time, pumping madly, as if attempting to break free of its cage in order to flee the danger it evidently sensed.
He's terrified, thought Jasper, who was staring at the snake-man, his breath held as the fear and elation of the room affected his own emotions.
For what I prayed would be the last time, I threw myself into Voldemort's mind. Jasper had been right; the monster sensed his end.
This cannot be! He cannot be its master! I cannot die! This cannot be my fate! I have walked along the path of immortality! I cannot—will not—be defeated! I must not be defeated! He must be the one to die … Not me!
"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" whispered Harry, his wand gripped firmly, the moment of truth only seconds away. "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."
All of a sudden, a red-gold ray from the rising sun burst across the room, bathing the Great Hall in the colours of Harry's house—of Bella's—announcing the end of twilight and the beginning of a new day. The high, ferocious shriek of Voldemort filled the air in the same moment that Harry released his final cry of defence, both men seeming to burn in the fiery light of the dawn.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
Green and red lightening flashed between them, meeting in the middle with an incredible bang as the spells collided in an explosion of flames. And then the colours flashed together in the crucial second, back towards the man who had murdered so many innocents, his retribution coming for him at last.
His thoughts rang with one final scream in the moment his flare changed course—the moment that he knew that Death was unavoidable and had finally caught up with him.
The jets both hit his chest in the same second, the force of the magic sending Voldemort backwards through the air, as the Elder Wand flew from his hand and spun in the direction of Harry, its rightful master—the man it refused to destroy—the one who had finally come to claim it, and with whom it must be united.
And as Voldemort fell backwards towards the ground—the heart and mind of the tyrant silent at last—Harry caught the wand in his outstretched hand, before his eyes fell back to the lifeless corpse of his defeated nemesis sprawled pathetically across the floor.
There was one brief moment of quiet, both oral and verbal as the room stared on dumbly at the dead body of Voldemort. Then, in a torrent of bursting screams of shock and jubilation, the room crashed towards their hero, every single one of them fuelled by a gratitude so powerful that it could not possibly be expressed through any amount of thanks.
He did it! He did it, were the words that assaulted me in those next few seconds.
It's over! He did it!
Harry! Harry!
He killed him! He did it!
The mental and spoken cheers were deafening as they echoed around the Hall; the only mind I was interested in, however, was the one belonging to the girl that was flying at me. Bella raced into my arms, her eyes overflowing with tears of joy and grief.
I crushed my lips to hers in a way that I very rarely attempted—my own relief and happiness were far too overwhelming. In one moment of madness, I threw caution to the winds and kissed her in the way that a regular teenage boy would kiss the girl he loved: I kissed her like my life depended on it. And she returned it, her arms circling my neck as she swung her legs up and locked them around my waist, allowing me to support her weight.
"I love you," she laughed through her tears, as she pulled back to look at me.
"I love you too," I replied, knowing that there was no one truth greater than that.
And then Carlisle and Esme were running at us. Carlise patted me on the back whilst Esme scooped Bella up in a loving hug, intensely happy that the fragile girl she considered a daughter had survived the battle.
I stared about the room. Rosalie was wrapped around Emmett, the pair oblivious to everything going on around them as they engaged in an unending kiss. Alice and Jasper were also locked in an embrace, but they were gazing into one another's eyes instead, wonder and love visible on their faces. At the centre of the Great Hall, Ginny had thrown herself at Harry; he crushed her body to his and buried his face in her hair. Ron, meanwhile, was trapped in a hug with his mother, though his eyes never left Hermione, who was being embraced by McGonagall. Ron's mother released him in the same moment that the teacher let go of her pupil to wrap her arms around Professor Sprout. Now free, Ron flew to Hermione and lifted her off the ground, swinging her around in his happiness. Her face, like Bella's, was streaked with tears, overcome by the intense flood of emotion that Voldemort's defeat had inspired. She laughed as she twirled through the air, her eyes never leaving Ron's face throughout the entire thing, not even after he lowered her to the ground.
"So," she said, her smile touching her eyes, which sparkled with joy, "third year when I punched Draco Malfoy?"
The blush crept onto Ron's cheeks, and his gaze flicked across the room to me for a brief moment.
Cheers, mate. You really put me in it.
I laughed loudly and winked at him, immediately after which his eyes snapped back to Hermione. His posture straightened and he shrugged, as he attempted to hide his embarrassment.
"Well, it was the single sexiest moment in history. Can you blame me?"
Hermione giggled, and in the ensuing seconds, she and Ron were following the lead of the other couples scattering the room.
Just before Bella returned into my waiting arms, she laughed loudly, the beautiful sound sparking my curiosity. I followed her gaze to the half-giant, Hagrid. He had scooped the tiny Professor Flitwick into his arms, and was kissing him on the cheek. The teacher didn't protest, even as Hagrid's fat, fast-falling tears spilled onto his clothes; instead, he cheered and flashed his wand, causing a stream of golden bubbles to cascade into the air. Then, he grabbed Hagrid's face, and landed a kiss on the giant's cheek in return.
I laughed, before returning my attention to my Bella, the most irresistible girl in the world.