A/N: I'm skipping over the entire King's Cross chapter – not because I don't like it or anything, on the contrary, I think it's a brilliant chapter, it simply just doesn't fit with my story. This chapter is the one that boasts one of the most truthful quotes, in my opinion:
'Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?' – Albus Dumbledore, p. 579.
I also wanted to churn this chapter out, and hopefully the rest before Christmas (or at leastJanuary!) for a couple of reasons; largely coursework, and one of my friend's is reading the books for the first time. He's currently on the Order of the Phoenix, and I want to finish this fic before he needs the book! And sorry for the delay – I had some of this written, and then coursework attacked me, and I've had various problems with my eyes and so on.
Cat
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Ps. This chapter largely centres around chapter 36 of The Deathly Hallows – 'The Flaw in the Plan'.
Chapter 9 – Defeat of the Enemy.
Harry woke suddenly, but made no movement – two things registering at once. One, he wasn't in any pain, which was strange. He thought that having been in such close proximity to Voldemort, that his head would be splitting from the agonising pain coursing through his scar…but there was nothing there. And two, if he listened very carefully, he could hear the faint swish of cloaks fluttering in the wind, and the slight breathing nearby suggested that he was not alone.
Ah. The Forbidden Forest. Which was another strange thing in itself. If he were here, did that mean that he did not die? It couldn't bear thinking about, for if he were alive, then Voldemort most likely was too, meaning that Harry had failed. It had been a cunning plan, although he had been unaware of it at the time – sacrificing oneself for his friends was a noble thing indeed.
Harry bravely flickered one eye open, resisting the urge to gag as he realised he was on his side, inhaling mud and leaves. He tried to keep his body as still as possible, curious as to how the others would deal with what had just occurred. His breath hitched, unnoticeable to his audience, as he heard footsteps approach, a rustle of a cloak, and then…
Hands, softer than he had been expecting, touched Harry's face, pulled back an eyelid, crept beneath his shirt, down to his chest and felt his heart. He could hear the woman's fast breathing, her long hair tickled his face. He knew that she could feel the steady pounding of life against his rib.
'Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?'
The whisper was barely audible; her lips were an inch from his ear, her head bent so low that her long hair shielded his face from the onlookers.
'Yes,' he breathed back.'
He felt the hand on his chest contract; her nails pierced him. Then it was withdrawn. She had sat up.
'He is dead!' Narcissa Malfoy called to the watchers.
-X-X-X-
Resisting the desire to cringe at the joyous cheers echoing around the forest, and screw up his eyes at the offending sparks emitting from their wands, thoughts raced through his mind. Narcissa Malfoy had now completely changed in Harry's mind, not that he'd had much of an opinion of her before, with the exception of a sneering blonde…rather like that of Draco, now that he thought about it. He was, however, unable to prevent the soft gasp that was torn from his lips as he heard Voldemort order Hagrid to carry Harry back to Hogwarts, malicious glee lacing his voice as he did so. Vowing to give Hagrid a hug later on, Harry made sure to stay still in the half-giant's tree-trunk like arms, sadness filling him as he heard and felt Hagrid's sobs.
The feeling intensified as he heard Professor McGonagall's shriek of despair at seeing her student, her friend encased in Hagrid's arms, his body unmoving and pale. Then the screams of his friends registered. Ron, Hermione, Ginny. No Draco, but perhaps he was too afraid of the conflict right now?
He inwardly did a victorious cheer as Neville – Neville! – defiantly stood up to Voldemort, delivering an award-winning, encouraging speech that whilst further enraging the Death Eaters, seemed to issue out courage to the exhausted Aurors, teachers, students and others, giving them the kick they needed to fight back just as well.
Over the fighting, a plan formulated in Harry's mind – one burdened with problems, but he disregarded them. It was now or never.
Hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Harry cast a Shield Charm between Neville and Voldemort before the latter could raise his wand. Then, over the screams, and the roars, and the thunderous stamps of battling giants, Hagrid's yell came loudest of all.
'HARRY!' Hagrid shouted, 'HARRY – WHERE'S HARRY?'
Chaos reigned. The charging centaurs were scattering the Death Eaters, everyone was fleeing the giants' stamping feet, and nearer and nearer thundered the reinforcements that had come from who knew where; Harry saw great winged creatures soaring around the heads of Voldemort's giants, Thestrals and Buckbeak the Hippogriff scratching at their eyes while Grawp punched and pummelled them; and now the wizards, the defenders of Hogwarts and Voldemort's Death Eaters alike, were being forced back into the castle. Harry was shooting jinxes and curses at any Death Eater he could see, and they crumpled, not knowing what or who had hit them, and their bodies were trampled by the retreating crowd.
Weaving in and throughout all the commotion, Harry's eyes nervously scanned the crowds, searching for his friends, praying that they were safe. Realising that he had no choice but to continue, his face and body tense with determination and anticipation, he made his way through the masses, breath hitching as he saw Molly Weasley up against Bellatrix Lestrange. Fighting the urge to whoop as the latter which fell, dead from Molly's wand, before rage rose in him like a burning wave as Voldemort, livid, turned his wand upon the woman he viewed as a mother.
'Protego!' roared Harry, and the Shield Charm expanded in the middle of the hall, and Voldemort stared around for the source as Harry pulled off of the Invisibility Cloak at last.
The yell of shock, the cheers, the screams on every side of 'Harry!' 'HE'S ALIVE!' were stifled at once. The crowd was afraid, and silence fell abruptly and completely as Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and began, at the same moment, to circle each other.
Harry taunted Voldemort, playing to the insecurities the serpent-like man never had had before this moment, revelling as he revealed about the Horcruxes, how Harry continuously managed to survive, despite Voldemort's desperate efforts over the years. As each word spilled from Harry's lips, Voldemort's rage increased, magic crackling visibly as the true story of the Elder Wand was told for the first time to a captive, terrified audience, the story-teller standing straight, eyes narrowed the entire time.
'The true master of the Elder and was Draco Malfoy.'
Blank shock showed in Voldemort's face for a moment, but then it was gone.
'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…'
'But you're too late,' said Harry, 'You've missed your chance. I got there first. Draco has been with us since that night at Malfoy Manor, I stole his wand whilst he was unaware. You didn't know that, did you, Riddle?"
A deathly silence fell upon the audience, watching in horror as Voldemort's snake-like eyes narrowed into minuscule slits, his jaw clenching as Harry continued, almost monotonously, before he raised his wand, Draco's wand, just as the other male cast the killing curse, Harry immediately defending himself with 'Expelliarmus!'.
The hall exploded into a crescendo of noise and mayhem, spells flying through the air, nearby walls shattering into irreplaceable pieces. Boy and man fought for their lives, before suddenly, their spells collided, Voldemort's wand jumping out of his hand and whirling towards Harry's outstretched hand. Harry caught it with ease, just as Voldemort slumped to the floor, dead.
Harry simply stared at the fallen figure of his enemy, of the man, the thing who had been trying to kill him for so long. He didn't know what to do now. It didn't feel over, and from the sounds of fighting around him, it seemed like the others were with him on that matter.
Everything was a blur, and he felt hands gently leading him to the side, many others patting and clinging to him as he passed by. He raised his eyes up from the ground to focus on the shocked faces of Hermione and Ron, briefly spotting a pale golden figure launching himself at his parents, the three Malfoy's sobbing freely.
They had all survived. Mostly. It was with this thought that Harry too, launched forwards, tears falling from tired eyes framed by black shadows, shaking hands gripping at his best friends, all three huddled together. "He's really gone?" Harry murmured, disbelief shining clear in his voice.
"He's really gone." Hermione soothed softly, carding her fingers through Harry's tangled locks, holding him close, Ron's arm around her waist. "The Aurors are dealing with him now, and they're rounding up the last of the Death Eat-"
"No!" The protest was torn from Harry before he could formulate a decent argument, emerald eyes scanning the crowd, searching from blonde. "Not…they can't take him!"
-X-X-X-
Extricating himself from the arms of his stunned friends, Harry strode over to where Lucius Malfoy was being held by a group of Aurors, another holding Narcissa, whilst Draco cowered tearfully in the corner. Eyes flashing with anger and authority, Harry glared defiantly up at Kingsley Shacklebolt, wordlessly conveying his protest in regards to the proceedings.
"Harry…" Kingsley began reluctantly, cautiously, holding up a blood-covered hand to prevent Harry's protests. "We have to take Lucius Malfoy. Narcissa is merely coming in for questioning, and Draco too. We found some memories in Albus's pensieve – we know of Draco's innocence in association with Albus's death, but the fact remains that he has the Mark…do I have your cooperation?"
Harry couldn't really argue with that. "It seems fair enough to me." He nodded, averting his eyes so as not to focus on Draco's defeated expression. "But keep me in the loop – do not hide anything from me, Kingsley. Narcissa Malfoy saved my life, and Draco is my friend. Neither of them deserves Azkaban."
"And Lucius?"
"He deserves whatever you choose to give him." And ignoring the teary protests from the other Malfoy's, Harry strode back to his friends, who forced him up to the Infirmary.
-X-X-X-
It was bordering on a week before a tense Harry received any news as to the fate of the Malfoys. By this time, he had already received his Order of Merlin (forced to attend by Hermione, but that was neither here nor there), aided in an attempted clear up of Hogwarts, before he was practically kicked out by the reinstated Headmistress McGonagall, who stated quite seriously that, 'If I ever see you picking up another brick in this school, Potter, I shall make it very difficult for you to sit down. Now, before you go, take a biscuit." She wouldn't take no for an answer.
As well as that, he had attended the mass funerals that the wizarding community held. Harry didn't think he had ever cried so much, but afterwards, calmness had settled upon him, something he had never experienced in his seventeen years.
Which is why on that particular Sunday morning, he was surprised, yet relieved, to hear the loud crack of apparition in the hallway of Grimmauld place. The half-hearted punch to his chin, however, was not met with the same eagerness.
"You bastard!" The thin, spitting form of Draco Malfoy screeched hysterically, "SEVEN DAYS! And you- a cup of tea! Azkaban! My Father!"
Letting out a defeated sigh, Harry picked himself up off of the floor and strode over to a livid Draco, placing firm hands on shaking, bony shoulders and squeezing softly, "Calm down, Draco. It's okay. It's over now, I'm here." He murmured, not at all surprised when the blonde melted into his arms, clutching at him as he cried, Harry almost joining him.
"Seven days, Harry." Draco repeated weakly, after his tears finally stopped, burying his head in the crook of Harry's neck, letting out a soft sigh. "They kept me in the Ministry, and Father has been locked up for three years. It's only fair," He admitted reluctantly, clutching at Harry's shirt. "After everything he did. Mother's back at the Manor – house arrest. And I got off with some…'community service', I think they called it. Because of my age, you see. And apparently I have you to thank for that. You're a good influence on me, they say. "
"Oh really?"
"Mhmm. So I should probably keep on hanging around you, right? Need to purge all the badness out of my system, become a goody-two-shoes like you, eh?" He let out a squawk of protest as Harry prodded him in his side, before they burst out laughing. "Now…which room's mine? I have a few belongings in the hall, and you can't say no!"
Harry let out a defeated sigh before following his new roommate out into the hall, which was now littered with various bags and suitcases. "…A few belongings…?"
-X-X-X-
A/N: Okay, so we went very AU at the end, and do not fear, there's still an epilogue! Now, while we're on that subject, it will be like the epilogue in the Deathly Hallows – KIDDING! I'll probably set it a couple of years after the war, with a few twists here and there, we shall see.
As for a sequel, if anyone's wondering – it's a definite possibility. I currently have a long SPN one –shot planned, but that's it. So…I may be persuaded if there's enough interest, hint hint!
Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the complete change!
Cat
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