CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

MASTER OF DEATH

The siren image gave one final shriek. Then it exploded into a thousand points of light that drifted toward the ground like sparks from a fire.

Ginny immediately stopped struggling in his arms. Harry looked down at her, and he felt a surge of panic. She was fading before him. Her features elongated. Her eyes widened impossibly, and her pupils bled into her irises.

Ron cursed. "What the—"

Harry flicked the Elder Wand. "The siren's gone. It's the banshee who has them now." His palms were slippery, and he nearly dropped it. There was a prickle at the back of his neck, and the clomping of many hooves on stone floor. He turned. Hagrid's flock of thestrals alighted one by one and made their way toward him. His stomach swooped.

Death was coming, and the thestrals sensed it. It was Harry's moment.

He looked down at Ginny. Please work. It has to work.

It was not entirely difficult, to summon a ghost. Harry had spent years with them, so it was easier, even. He knew Nearly Headless Nick wanted most to join the Headless Hunt; he knew Myrtle had once haunted a girl who'd teased her; he knew the Grey Lady was Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter, and that the Bloody Baron had once loved her. The fact Harry knew the ghosts of Hogwarts quite well had nothing to do with the summoning...

...and everything.

The ghost salt he'd laid out lit all at once in dancing, blue flames. Harry peered at it; it did not appear entirely real. The flames flickered from an odd wind, one that did not seem to disturb anything else. Goosebumps erupted up and down his arms. Then he murmured the names of all the ghosts he knew, holding them clear in his mind, begging them to come help them.

It was Nearly Headless Nick who came fully into existence first, then Moaning Myrtle, who was quiet, serious, and not crying for once. The others wavered, flickering. Harry begged them silently to stay, to help.

Odd movement caught his eye, distracting him. Water — ugly, dark water — seeped down the stairs. Moss and peat began to mottle the stone floor, growing in the cracks. Harry realized the bog — the bog the twins had once created was growing, and transforming the castle. It happened fast — so fast. It felt like he blinked, and then Harry was standing in bog water, staring in stunned horror at what was around him. He could barely see the walls; it was as though they were no longer even at Hogwarts, but had been transported to the banshee's territory. He looked at Ron, then Hermione, and realized that they were all in danger, here. It no longer mattered if they were cursed or not. Panic made his thoughts slippery.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know it would come to this… I didn't know you'd be in danger like this."

"It's… okay," Hermione said faintly.

"It's my whole family," said Ron. "I'd rather be with them than on the sidelines."

"Harry," said Nearly Headless Nick. He had transformed somehow; He was no longer silvery and translucent. Color had bled into him, and he was looking more solid by the second.

"Can you — can you lead them home?" Harry licked his lips.

The ghost looked at him sadly. "I can lead one... perhaps two."

The walls had disappeared now.

Water sloshed, and Ron and Hermione moved closer to him, both looking terrified and determined at once. "Seamus is losing it," said Ron, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. Seamus was sitting in the bog water, rocking back and forth with his arms around his knees. Dean stood next to him, blank and still, unaware of the danger.

"Sir Nicholas is going to help," Harry said diffidently. Then he made a choice. "Can you try to make a trail? Maybe they can follow it? Where are the others?"

"Moaning Myrtle is just over there," said Sir Nicholas.

Harry's stomach fell. He'd been distracted... dismay hit him like knives. He'd hoped — he had so hoped that he would be able to summon all of the Hogwarts ghosts, and they would lead everyone home. "No one else came?"

Sir Nicholas spread his nearly solid hands in a helpless gesture. "I am sorry, Harry."

"It's all right," said Harry.

He pulled out the stone in his pocket. It had come to this, as he had thought it would. He had not wanted to — had not wanted to put the souls of the valiant dead at risk. What if the worst happened, and they, too, were lost? Harry hoped they would forgive him.

He took a moment. None of the cursed ones were paying him any attention. Their eyes were wide and blank, and they took cautious, shuffling steps toward something Harry couldn't see. He had a feeling the banshee was calling to them, and they were going.

Harry turned the stone over in his hand three times.

The bog went out of focus, and an arch slowly revealed itself to Harry. He vaguely remembered having Newt paint Harry's own blood over the door to a storeroom… this must be it. Harry blinked his eyes rapidly. Finally, it became clear. The mundane wooden door was now totally transformed into a plain, stone arch with a veil hanging over it, shielding whatever was beyond from mortal gaze. The veil fluttered, and then was pushed to the side.

They all came. All of them.

His parents were the first out... they looked solid enough to be real. Harry reached out to touch them —

—and clasped his father's shoulder, just as his mother wrapped her arms around his waist. For a second, Harry allowed himself to revel in their touch, to be in a small circle with his parents for the first time that Harry remembered. They murmured words to him, loving words, words he would get to carry with him for the rest of his life – however long that may be.

Others took that step through the veil. Dumbledore came after Harry's parents, tall, auburn-haired, and rather young-looking. Sirius, Remus, and Tonks came through at the same instant, with Mad Eye Moody on their heels. Cedric Diggory ducked in, and tossed Harry a wave. And then Fred passed through the veil; he nodded to Harry, but his eyes were already scanning the crowd for his family, for George.

Harry felt light-headed.

Others streamed in: Colin Creevey, who seemed shy; Amelia Bones, looking formidable; red-headed brothers Harry thought might be Mrs. Weasley's brothers, Fabian and Gideon Prewett. Others he did not even recognize came through. Harry felt incandescent. So many of the living had come to help. And now the dead.

"Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "I believe it is time for you to summon their patronuses."

But one more person had pushed aside the veil. Severus Snape marched out, gave Harry a look that somehow managed to meld annoyance and superciliousness. "Potter," he sneered. "We do not have much time."

Harry swirled the Cloak around his shoulders, held the Wand and the Stone aloft, and began the incantation. He was focusing on a single thought, one that would summon all their patronuses. Last year, he had meant to die for these people, to save them from Voldemort. And none of the spells he'd been able to cast had worked on them. Together, they had won. It was only a fluke that Voldemort had been able to hurt them like this, and Harry was there to make sure nothing like this could ever happen again.

The veil stirred, and a shadow passed over it.

Harry nearly faltered, but forced himself to continue. The crystal candles all around began to glow brighter, pulsing faintly, as though they now had beating hearts. Harry used magic as though he were climbing a mountain… his energy was fleeing. But he would not let himself stop. And with one, final word, the patronuses of the cursed ones were summoned.

They were nearly all shadow now, Harry thought. Ginny's mare had lost its beauty. Mrs. Weasley's boar was mostly black, with just a few threads of silver remaining. Cold emanated from all around. And then the resurrected, valiant dead took over.

"Lily and I will take Molly and Arthur," James said with authority.

"I've got Bill," said Tonks. She tripped her way to Bill's side, and laid a gentle hand on his patronus. Remus hurried over to Fleur.

Fred had already found George, and had his twin's sleeping coyote cradled in his arms.

Tears prickled Harry's eyes as Sirius made his way to Ginny. His godfather clasped her shoulder, gave her a side-armed hug that she did not in any way acknowledge. Harry looked around, blinking, and realized that his spell… his ritual… had raised a brilliant silver dome around them. Some of the living remained inside. Ron and Hermione were staring with open-mouthed stupefaction. Seamus was slowly pulling himself to his feet, watching as Colin Creevey healed Dean Thomas's patronus.

Harry, who had expected three or maybe four of them, could not believe how many came.

He allowed himself a few moments to gather himself, then hurried over to his parents. Lily's hand was on Molly's boar. As Harry watched, the shadows were peeling away. The smell of the bog was lessening. Molly was looking less elongated, and more like her natural self. Arthur was the same. Harry looked at his father, asking a silent question.

"So it's not – you didn't have to find a – a trail or something?" Harry asked. He had envisioned the cursed ones being led through a maze that no one but the dead could see.

"No," said Lily. "We are reminding them who they are, what they have to live for, what they nearly died for. Had they not been so wonderful, it would be a lot harder than this. Look, see, we're nearly done. Oh, I do love this woman. I'm so… glad I can help her."

"You knew her?" Harry asked, slightly bewildered.

"Just in passing when I was alive, but we know how much they mean to you."

"They were parents to you when you couldn't be," James said simply. "Your mother and I owe them this."

"And so very much more," said Lily.

Molly stirred. "It was… it… it… was our… pleasure," she said thickly.

Harry's eyes nearly popped. "She's already better?"

"Not quite yet," said Lily.

Harry wanted to linger, but he also wanted to be with Ginny. "Go," his father said, smiling. "Once Sirius has got her squared away, bring her over and introduce us."

Harry had a sudden fantasy of bringing Ginny over to his parents for tea… he tried to imagine what it would have been like, to have them there his whole life. They would already know the Weasleys, of course… He could almost see it – the little cottage in Godric's Hollow, warm and cheerful, and…

Ginny, Harry forced himself to think.

He walked over to her. Something about the air seemed heavy. It must be his spell; that was what made it so much harder to walk. Everywhere he looked, the dead were healing the living. George's coyote was nearly shadow-free, lolling in Fred's arms. Charlie and Percy were under the care of Fabian and Gideon, and looked nearly like themselves. Harry realized with a start that Regulus Black was here, tending to Oliver Wood. Everywhere he looked was another wonder.

"You all right?" Ron asked. He appeared suddenly in front of Harry.

"Yeah," said Harry.

Hermione looked worried. "Go," he told them. "Go see Fred. I've got to – I've got to go see Ginny."

She was there just ahead of him.

And she was smiling at him, eyes agleam.

She was awake.

Harry's steps faltered. "Oh, Sirius," he said. "Thank you. Thank you." Then they were both hugging him, just like his mother and father had. Sirius hardly felt cold at all, did not feel frail. It was as though he were nearly all the way present. Only a strange light in his eyes gave it away.

"Ginny, my parents want to meet you," he said, pulling back.

It was easier to manage the distance with Ginny and Sirius at their sides. The professors were healed. Dumbledore was patting a sobbing McGonagall's back. It was almost… too much to see. Snape had both hands on Draco's shoulders, and was muttering something fervently. Harry did not want to know what.

"Mum, Dad…" he said. "This is – this is Ginny – Ginny Potter, she's my wife."

Molly and Arthur's mouths dropped open, even as James and Lily beamed. Then Harry's parents circled Ginny and hugged her. Lily whispered something in her ear.

"You're married?" Molly mouthed.

All the Weasleys, living and dead, converged around them. It was such happy chaos that Harry did not bother to wonder why he was feeling so faint and light-headed… of course he was… it was not every day that he could reunite with all his loved ones. George and Fred were – unbelievably – cracking jokes. Tears sprang at the corners of his eyes.

"Harry, do you see…?" Ginny asked.

"I see it," said Harry, not knowing what, specifically, she meant. He saw all of it. He saw Moody and Kingsley, Bill and Tonks, Remus and Fleur, his parents… her parents… Molly and Arthur were hugging Fred, and not letting him go even when he protested. Snape and Draco stood at the edge. Draco's eyes were wide, and his mouth open. Then Ron and George and Fred were jumping in a circle… Dumbledore was looking at him, one eyebrow raised… it was too much, but Harry could not look away. He could not close his eyes.

And then – something happened that broke something deep inside Harry. He could feel something dark and cold strike the dome. Then another. And another. And another. They felt like blows. Harry began to panic, looking around for what it could be…

At each point of impact, a small, pale patronus appeared. Harry gaped at it, open-mouthed. Another dementor hit the dome, and another patronus appeared.

"OH MY GOD, THE DEMENTORS!" Hermione shouted. "IT'S KILLING HIM!"

And Harry realized it was him she meant. He tilted his head up, and he saw the face in the sky.

The banshee was there in the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, looking down at him, becoming solid and more real the longer Harry looked. She was terrible, and something inside Harry withered away and died at the sight of her. Her mouth was open… it was a dark maw, opening wider and wider, as though it wanted to eat the whole world. But behind that image, Harry could see a smaller figure… one still terrible, but without the glamour…

"I can see you," he told the banshee.

"I know," she said. "You are close enough to death to do so."

She came down out of the ceiling and stood before him. In this incarnation, banshee looked nearly like a woman: long black hair, and the pale skin of the dead. There was banked purple fire in her eyes. Harry shivered. "Ah yes, fear," the banshee licked her lips.

Harry said nothing. He could not lie; he was terrified.

"Master of the Hallows, what will it be?" The banshee asked.

"What?" Harry said.

"You cannot break the curse without offering a trade," said the banshee. "You know this. I am as I have been made, and cannot make an exception. Better to ask the sea to stop its tides, or the stars to fall from the heavens."

"A trade," Harry said thickly. Dimly, he was aware of more dementors hitting the dome. Each one broke him a little more. The banshee was the only real thing, now… everyone else looked like ghosts. "Someone has to go with you."

There was a roaring in his ears.

Harry closed his eyes. He did not want to do this. He did not want to go with the banshee, and spend his afterlife in a bog. Harry did not want to break his promise to Ron and Hermione. He did not want to leave Ginny behind.

"All right, you can—"

Sir Nicholas appeared out of nowhere, leaping between Harry and the banshee – and the banshee swiped out –

—and his head was cleaved from his shoulders, and went spinning into the air—

"What were you about to say, mortal? No distractions."

"I—"

"OH, NO YOU DON'T, HARRY!" Ginny shouted, quite undone. A silencing charm hit him, and Harry was unable to speak. "YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO LEAVE ME!"

"Mrs. Potter," Dumbledore said gently. "You can help him… you've combined magical signatures. You can use the Hallows."

"Ahhhhhh," sighed Ginny. She plucked the Wand and Stone out of Harry's grasp, and tucked the Cloak over her knee. And then, fearlessly, she faced down the banshee. "You want a bargain?" she said fiercely. Then she pointed at something Harry couldn't quite see… a shadow on the ground… something too grotesque for words. Ginny'd seen what he hadn't, he realized. She'd seen that shadow, and understood what it was. Even now, Harry could hardly recognize Lord Voldemort in that shadow creature.

"Take that," spat Ginny. "Take that shell… take what Tom Riddle left of himself. And you can keep it forever as far as I'm concerned."

There was no time to argue. No time to worry if the wrong decision had been made. In between one breath and the next, the banshee, the bog, and the last remnant of Tom Riddle's soul, which had been called back by the power of the Resurrection Stone, were gone. Silence rang loudly in Harry's ears. His feet were back on solid, stone ground.

"You will need to break the connection," said Dumbledore's calm voice.

"I love you all," said Fred.

"Until we meet again," said Sirius.

Other murmurs. Other voices.

"Thank you so much for loving our son," said James.

"Yes, thank you," said Lily. Fingers brushed through his hair, and Harry toppled over onto Mr. Weasley.

"Goodbye, son."

James and Lily's faces swam in his vision. They were smiling, a gentle, loving smile that eased some of the hurt inside him. "We love you," said Lily.

"Always," said James.

The moment Ginny dropped the stone, Harry's whole world went black.