Whatever else could be said about Rufus Scrimgeour, he wasn't an incompetent fop like Fudge. After the man was elected permanently, he made full use of his wartime powers, commencing raids against known Death Eater hideouts and removing corrupt officials from the government. The problem now wasn't Ministry's inactivity, but rather their inability to deal with the hit-and-run tactics of the Death Eaters. They would Apparate in, torch the houses of their loudest opposers, and often leave before the Aurors even arrived. Muggles were also a popular target, and, unlike wizards, they couldn't escape via portkey or floo. Thus, where wizards usually only lost their homes, Muggles lost their lives – but, of course, the government didn't seem too concerned about that.

The active Aurors still outnumbered Voldemort's minions several times, but the Dark Lord also employed droves of rabid werewolves, vampires, and giants. The significantly increased law enforcement force was being overworked by reacting to dark creature attacks all over the country, while being unable to strike at the real enemy. A few clever ambushes had culled the Death Eater ranks somewhat, and Harry's latest success had dealt an even larger blow, but that just made the rest of the terrorists more careful, and their leader more unpredictable. Most of the Inner Circle, including those who had escaped from Azkaban, were still at large, and Voldemort didn't seem inclined to risk them in regular raids.

All in all, while the Ministry wasn't likely to fall any time soon, there was no end to the war in sight. It looked as if Voldemort would keep growing stronger, and the magical community more terrified and desperate, until all the Dark Lord had to do was march into the Ministry and demand the Wizengamot to hand over the reigns of the country.

Worst of all – to Harry, at least – was the knowledge of the prophecy leaking to the public. He could only blame himself, Harry supposed; he should have known revealing that information to the Minister and a bunch of Unspeakables was a risky course of action. Now there were calls for him to 'take care of the problem' on the papers, as if killing Voldemort was something a 16-year-old wizard could do by taking an afternoon off.

All of this meant that Harry spent every free moment thinking of ways to defeat Voldemort. He sought input from his friends, Sirius, and Dumbledore, who still insisted that the horcruxes had to be taken care of first and had been showing him memories of Tom Riddle's past. Harry had heard that knowing his enemy was important, so he didn't object even though he didn't see any immediate benefit.

The first promising piece of information came from an unexpected source. Watching anime had given him the idea that the Japanese knew all sorts of nifty sealing magics, and he looked into it on a whim. As it turned out, the Land of the Rising Sun did have a few ancient rituals for sealing evil entities that were still known today. The fact was unearthed by none other but Hermione, whom Harry had turned to for help whenever copious amounts of research were required. While the ceremonies she found out about weren't exactly targeted at humans, he figured Voldemort was monstrous enough at this point for them to be effective.

Harry's working plan was to lure the Dark Lord out and incapacitate him somehow, or at least keep him in one place long enough for the ritual to work. The easiest way to do that was to offer Voldemort something he wanted very much – namely, Harry himself. He was certain that the psychotic megalomaniac wouldn't be able to resist a formal challenge to a wizard's duel, although he wasn't at all sure he could him off long enough. The plan was full of holes, some aspects of it were completely outside Harry's control, and it was so dangerous that most would have called him mad for even considering a scheme like that. Still, with constant pressure from the Ministry and the wizarding world in general, he had to come up with something, and soon.

"Don't even think about it!"

"Are you mental, boy?"

"Why, this has to be the most convoluted way to kill yourself I've ever heard..."

"Balls of steel!"

Those were just some of the reactions from the Order of the Phoenix after Harry had presented the new and improved plan to them. (Incidentally, that last remark was from Fred and George, the only positive one out of them all.) He realized that his idea was far from perfect, but it was still annoying to see it bashed so. Feeling rather miffed, Harry told the members of the Order that they were too used to taking a passive role in the war, and didn't dare to think big. Some harsh words were exchanged between him and Snape afterwards. In the end, nothing came of it, so Harry packed up the helpful diagrams he had drawn for his presentation, and went to Scrimgeour instead.

It took some time to convince the Minister that making such a bold and borderline insane move was their best bet, but it all worked out in the end. Scrimgeour openly told Harry that he would be planning for the worst (namely, Harry's death) and relying on sheer numbers to overwhelm the Death Eater forces. That was almost reassuring to the boy, although he had no intention of going down without a hell of a fight. The British Minister also took care of hiring an experienced group of Japanese magicians, which Harry had affectionately dubbed the 'sealing squad'. To his great disappointment, it did not contain any cute girls, but he'd take grumpy old men, too, if it meant getting rid of Riddle.

Harry's plan was equal parts brilliant and insane – well, mostly insane, if he listened to his detractors. He wanted to sign a magically-binding four-way contract between himself, Voldemort, Scrimgeour, and Dumbledore, setting up a formal duel with the Dark Lord. Any interference from the other two signees would result in them being stripped of their magic; same would happen to Harry or Voldemort if they failed to show up for the fight. Each of the four would be bringing their own minions (Harry's being the students from the DA – volunteers only, of course), who would not be bound by the contract personally, just indirectly through their superiors.

The arrangement, as shown in Harry's crudely-drawn diagrams, was for Harry to fight with his comrades behind his back, and Voldemort standing in front of his in order to minimize the risks of interference. His hope was that the Death Eaters wouldn't want to start a battle they would most likely lose, being outnumbered as they were, and that the Aurors would refrain from attacking to avoid extreme casualties. The Dark Lord's men could still decide to throw a salvo of Killing Curses at Harry on their own accord (thus breaking the agreement and allowing the other side to fight back), but if Harry had learned anything about Tom Riddle, it was that his pride would allow him nothing but a proper 1v1 duel. He had faith in Voldemort's ability to keep his lackeys under control, and same was true for Scrimgeour as well. The peace-loving Order and the inexperienced DA crew weren't an issue in the first place. Of course, if Harry was killed, the situation was likely to devolve into a massacre, but it wouldn't matter much to him anymore, being dead and all.

Harry himself was planning to exploit an obvious loophole which allowed the participants to get outside help. As the 'sealing squad' did not belong to any of the four factions, they could do their thing without breaking the contract, hidden safely under the best invisibility cloaks the Order and the Ministry could scrounge up. By the time the effects of their ritual became apparent, it would be too late: the Death Eaters would be demoralized by their leader's demise, and easily crushed... or so Harry hoped. Then Dumbledore could search for horcruxes at his leisure, while Harry would enjoy his school life without anyone trying to do him in for once. Okay, that was unlikely, but one can dream, right?

Getting Dumbledore to sign was the hardest part, but he finally accomplished the feat after weeks of reasoning, convincing, and even good old blackmailing. They sent an owl to Lucius Malfoy on May 1st, and received an answer two days later. The game was on.

Harry stepped outside the circle of his friends, having received numerous claps on his back and no less than four good luck kisses, and started walking towards his arch-nemesis. He hoped that all the people shouting encouragements to him wouldn't notice that their hero's legs were shaking badly. About a hundred yards ahead, Voldemort began his approach as well. The cheers soon died out, and Aurors and Death Eaters alike watched the two enemies draw closer with bated breath. Harry could almost hear old western shootout music playing in the background.

He glanced over his shoulder, and was heartened to see that the combined forces of Aurors, Order members, and select Hogwarts students appeared to outnumber the Death Eaters ahead of him at least twice. The good guys formed a massive half-circle with the Aurors guarding the flanks and the civilians positioned in the middle. Opposite to them, the Death Eaters crowded together, surrounded by feral-looking werewolves who created the other boundary for the impromptu arena. The fate of the whole Britain would be decided here today, and everyone present had the best seats for the show.

Harry stopped in front of an unremarkable little rock which marked the line he couldn't cross lest he wanted to risk getting his soul sealed in a can along with Voldemort's, and waited for his immortal foe to approach.

"I must thank you, Harry," Voldemort hissed. "This is going to save me so much trouble. After everyone here sees their Chosen One fall by my hand, they will realize that it is futile to resist Lord Voldemort."

Harry's heart was hammering in his chest from fear and excitement. Voldemort had stopped a standard dueling distance away from him, just as they had hoped. The Shinto priests were supposed to be in position already, creating an enormous, invisible magic circle across the field. If he could just keep Voldemort talking...

"You seem awfully confident," he noted, feeling proud of the way his voice sounded almost normal. "Yet every time I have faced you so far, I have managed to escape despite being outnumbered and outgunned."

"You closed that door yourself," said Voldemort, sounding amused. "Try to escape instead of fighting me, and the contract you signed will remove your magic. I hear it is a most painful experience."

"I am not going to run this time. What about you, Voldemort? Are you wizard enough to face me without your Death Eaters holding me down?"

The Dark Lord laughed coldly, the familiar sound giving Harry the chills. "So very arrogant, Harry. Have you learned a new spell or two? Has Dumbledore shown you a few tricks? That won't be nearly enough to defeat me. But enough of this chatter... Let's not keep our audience waiting."

"All right," said Harry, trying not to show how panicked he was. "But first, tell me..."

"I said, enough!" Voldemort's demeanor had changed instantly. "Bow, Harry. The formalities must be observed..."

Harry had to play along, for doing otherwise might have resulted in the activation of the contract. All he had to do was hold out against the strongest duelist in Britain for a few minutes. Piece of cake, right?

"Very well," Harry murmured, spitting out a wad of gum he had been chewing to calm his nerves. "As it happens, I'm all out of gum." He saluted with his wand and lowered his head a tiny fraction, keeping his eyes on Voldemort who mirrored Harry's every move. The little gesture was all it took to officially begin the duel.

Harry's instincts screamed 'danger!' and he dived and rolled on the ground to avoid the first two hexes Voldemort launched at him with snake-like speed. The third one was absorbed by Harry's hastily erected earthen shield; he didn't fancy testing whether Protego would protect him from a nasty-looking Dark curse like that. Harry used that moment to blast the ground below Voldemort's feet with a Confringo, the most powerful spell he could cast wordlessly. As the Dark Lord was shielding himself from the clumps of soil and rocks the explosion had launched at him, Harry went on a counter attack with a basic spell chain consisting of a stunner, a bludgeoner, and a Cutting Curse.

"Very good, Harry," Voldemort spoke evenly after swatting away all the three spells like they were nothing. "Now, let me show you how it's done."

Harry's Protego somehow weathered the first attack, but the second hex obliterated it completely. Harry dodged the third one, a Suffocation Curse Snape had once demonstrated in class, and then cried out in pain as his shoulder was clipped by a cutter. He was lucky he ducked reflexively, for the last curse whisked right past his head.

"That's what a proper spell chain looks like, Harry," Voldemort lectured him. "Not something you read in a text book. That last spell would have frozen the blood in your veins... I'm pleased you managed to avoid it. Now, come, entertain me some more."

Harry obeyed. He attacked swiftly and mercilessly, incorporating every dirty trick and inventive spell combination he could think of into the unrelenting assault. Terrifying dark spells left his wand as readily as schoolkid-level hexes, unpredictable and chaotic. He went full out, not thinking about prolonging the fight anymore, but actually trying to win.

None of it was enough. Voldemort was an immovable object, deflecting spells at superhuman speeds or erecting shields so powerful that Harry's attacks simply bounced off them. The Gryffindor didn't know how long he had kept up the onslaught for; five minutes? Ten? All he knew was that at some point, his concentration finally faltered, and the spell he was about to cast fizzled. Harry stared dumbly at his wand, then at his unfazed opponent.

Immovable...

He realized with a start that Voldemort hadn't moved more than a few feet from his initial position; what the hell were those priests doing? Harry risked a look around, blinking furiously due to sweat dripping into his eyes, but all he saw were the indifferent masks of the Dark Lord's minions.

"Help isn't coming, Harry."

He felt icy fingers of fear grip his heart. "I wasn't counting on any."

"Is that so?" Voldemort's red eyes bore into Harry's. "Then I guess you are not the one who invited our guests from the Far East."

Harry's mouth went dry. "H-how?" he croaked.

The Dark Lord smiled coldly, his gaze directed not at Harry, but at something behind him. "Take your rightful place, my servant!" he called jubilantly.

Harry whirled around, not even caring about the possibility of getting cursed in the back, and gaped at the sight. A lone figure left Dumbledore's group and started crossing over to the opposite side.

"Severus... Severus, why?" Dumbledore's forlorn voice could be heard by everyone present in the deadly silence that descended over the scene.

"Because nothing would give me greater pleasure than seeing Potter's broken body bleed out on the ground!" the traitor shouted maniacally as he walked. "When our Lord finishes the boy, the contract will lose power, and we'll kill everyone who refuses to join our side. Look forward to it, old fool!"

"Dumbledore!" Harry screamed, shaking with terror and fury. "You vouched for him! Tell me you've had that bastard swear an Unbreakable Vow, so I can at least watch him die before Voldemort kills me!"

A moment's silence; then the answer came in a whisper, an unknown spell carrying it straight into Harry's ears. "I'm sorry, my boy. I thought his feelings for Lily would be enough to ensure his loyalty."

"That's... I don't even... Great fucking job, Dumbledore! You've doomed us all!"

Voldemort laughed again and Harry fell to his knees, feeling his last glimmer of hope vanish. He heard people behind him gasp and cry out. Of course... Everyone here put their faith in him, and he had nothing to show them. Some hero he was.

"You've heard Severus's heartfelt wish, Harry. I can't disappoint my loyal followers..." The Dark Lord trailed off, looking at him with something akin to disappointment. "It is a pity, truly; I expected more from you, but Severus was right: you are nothing. Now... look upon your death, child of the prophecy, and know fear."

Harry raised his head and met Voldemort's burning eyes. He might have lost the fight, but he was damned if he was going to die kneeling in front of his sworn enemy. Grunting with effort, Harry stood up and spoke, his voice clear and calm.

"I have led vast armies, built and burned entire empires, slayed dragons and demons, and assassinated tyrant kings. I have fought my way out of hell, and triumphed over gods themselves! I'm not afraid of you, Tom Riddle!"

Harry felt the lightest touch of Legilimency and could tell that it left Voldemort deeply unsettled; the Dark Lord saw that Harry had been telling the truth, but didn't understand how any of his claims were possible.

"Expelliarmus!" Voldemort spoke harshly, the first spell he had vocalized during the entire battle. Despite that, Harry still could do nothing but watch his trusty wand leave his wand.

"So this is the wand which caused me so much trouble two years ago," the Dark Lord mused, inspecting the magical instrument. "Let's see how well it listens to me... Crucio!"

Harry's world disappeared in an explosion of pain. He came to an indeterminate amount of time later, his throat sore from a scream he didn't remember screaming. He heard concerned shouts around him, and felt the urge to reassure everyone.

"I'm all right," he mumbled, forcing his hurting body to stand up again. "I'm okay."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at him. "I will break your spirit before I kill you, boy. Kneel."

Harry gasped as an invisible force pushed him towards the ground, and he fell down painfully on his knees. Hot tears began pooling in his eyes. The way Voldemort wielded his magic, the way it responded to his commands was just so unfair... How was he supposed to overcome that kind of mastery?

The power he knows not...

His strength wasn't anything special – it certainly wasn't enough to even put a scratch on Voldemort. The prophecy had to be wrong.

And yet...

Harry recalled all the weird happenings over the past two years, when his own magic reacted to his needs in unusual and bizarre ways. He had taken over Malfoy's body, shouted Snape off his feat, and performed the Flame and the Void meditation. Even the little Meatspin spell he had cast on Draco right before the start of his fifth-year was decidedly odd, now that he thought of it. The implications were staggering.

A mind-boggling theory formed in Harry's head as he watched Voldemort rant and boast about his supposedly inevitable victory. It was completely outlandish and nearly unbelievable, but then again, magic itself had been the same back when he was eleven.

Harry knew a perfect way to test his guess. He opened his mouth and began chanting, the words flowing effortlessly from his lips as if they were a part of his very being.

"Oh no, Harry!" Hermione was wiping her eyes frantically, and she wasn't the only one in the crowd to break down in tears. "Please, we have to help him!"

"We cannot interfere until either of the combatants is dead, Miss Granger," the Minister for Magic said in a dull voice. Even he appeared to have been affected by Harry's valiant effort and the subsequent fall. "Rest assured that Mr. Potter's sacrifice won't be forgotten. As soon as You-Know-Who deals the finishing blow, I will give the order for our Aurors to attack."

"Don't worry, Hermione," Luna interjected calmly. "The hero always gets a power up when things look their bleakest, you know."

"What do you mean, Luna? What can Harry even do in this situation?"

"I think he's going to use that," the blonde said mysteriously.

"Use what?" Hermione asked blankly, even forgetting to cry.

"His ultimate technique, of course."

I am a master of many magics.
My blood is the source, and my body is the conduit.

Voldemort stopped his supervillain monologue and stared at his kneeling enemy suspiciously. "You can't do anything without your wand, Potter."

I have survived the three Unforgivables.
In the face of overwhelming adversity,
I will carve out a path to tomorrow.

Halfway into the recitation, Harry's voice gained an ethereal quality, and an unseen breeze began buffeting his raven hair. Voldemort raised his wand to attack, but he was too late.

So, as I chant,
Unlimited Magic Works!

A tiny black dot appeared and grew exponentially, until it swallowed both Harry and Voldemort out of existence.