The last battle! So why are you reading this?

Mythic Alliance

by Jendra

Harry was breathing rapidly. His eyes were wide and his skin deathly pale. This was it... and it was the scariest thing *ever*! Scarier than waiting for his uncle to come home after Aunt Petunia got the call about him being on the school roof. Scarier than having a broken leg when Dudley and his friends were Harry hunting. Even scarier than confronting a Basilisk or Hungarian Horntail.

This was beyond all of that. This was walking into the Dark Lord's lair, fully knowing who was going to be there. Well, okay, so they wouldn't be walking. It was the same difference.

Today was Narcissa's funeral. Thankfully, it was also a Hogsmeade weekend and the last day before the train left to take everyone home for Christmas break.

Harry and Severus were waiting in the Shrieking Shack for the signal that the Malfoys were in position.

"You need to calm down," Severus remonstrated gently. "You're vibrating."

"Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down?" Harry snapped. "We're walking straight into the evil guy's lair, in case you've forgotten!"

"You do remember you've fought him four times already, don't you?"

"But I didn't know he was going to be there, now did I? Besides, impulsively running off to save someone is not quite the same as going after the snake in his own lair." Harry was beginning to look a little wild-eyed, and his fingers clenched, white knuckled, around the orb he was holding.

Severus strode over to Harry and held his head with both hands, gently tilting it upward. He had to stop himself from being rougher – after all, he was more than a bit keyed up himself, but he knew that would be counter-productive. "Calm down," he hissed, glaring into Harry's bright green eyes. Slowly, Harry did as ordered, calming his breathing and with it, his thoughts. Once Harry was centered, Severus released his face and put his hands on Harry's shoulders. "It will be all right. We have a good plan and it will work."

"But what if..." Harry began.

Severus ended that line of thinking with a quick shake. "It. Will. Work. We've gone over every scenario the four of us could imagine. It *will* work."

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. "It will. We'll kill Snake-face and it'll all be over." His bearing was determined, and if there was a waver in his voice, Severus willingly ignored it.

Harry yelped as the bracelet on his arm got hot. It was time. "Good luck and be safe," he said. Now that the time to act had come, all his doubts and fears were banished. He knew his role. He threw his Invisibility Cloak over his head and clutched the orb tightly.

Severus hesitated a moment before saying fiercely, "If you do something foolishly Gryffindorish and get yourself harmed, I will make you wish that the Dark Lord had won!"

Under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry grinned at the threat, a grin he was still wearing as Severus transformed and flew close so Harry could grab a tail feather for the journey.

Severus dropped Harry off in the shadows to the right of Voldemort's throne. It was obvious at once that there was something they had not taken into consideration. He hadn't realized that Voldemort's presence would hurt quite as much as it did. The unexpected intensity of the sharp pain caused his grip on the orb to loosen as his hand reflexively reached to his forehead. Only Seeker-trained reflexes allowed him to recapture the sphere before it reached the ground. The adrenaline thus produced allowed him to push back the pain so he could concentrate on his surroundings.

There was Voldemort, his red eyes glaring malevolently from his dead fishbelly-white skin, his bald head gleaming in the light from the torches. His robes were black and blood red, made of dragon skin with the scales still on. He was sitting on a throne made of some slick black stone with grotesque faces carved into it. It was carved to look as if the person sitting on it was surrounded by lost souls screaming in timeless agony. In sum, it was an image created to terrify those brought before the Dark Lord.

Harry thought it just looked tacky.

Off to one side of the throne was a sniveling, cowering, boot-licking rat in human form. Directly in front of the throne was Lucius Malfoy; kneeling next to him was Draco. Their blond hair shone like halos in the dismal room.
Behind them were four masked Death Eaters. That worried Harry. Lucius and Draco were out in the open and in the most dangerous position. Lucius would have to take those four out as quickly as possible, all on his own.

Then he heard it. To the left of the throne, a Shadow Phoenix started to sing and darkness almost exploded from Severus' position. Harry watched it, like dark clouds in a roiling storm. It was time to act.

Lucius moved at the first hint of song, throwing a shield over his son even as he moved towards Severus' position. His voice was one of three yelling out "Stupefy!" As darkness covered the whole room, he saw the Dark Lord block two of the spells, but the third one slipped through. That taken care of, Lucius turned his attention to the Death Eaters and sent a barrage of spells at their last positions.

Harry dropped his Invisibility Cloak; at this point it was only getting in the way, and anyway, as long as the darkness lasted it served no purpose. He threw every freezing, binding and stunning spell he knew at the Dark Lord's last position and heard Draco doing the same from his spot. Finally, almost assured Voldemort would not be moving and ruining the spell, Harry stopped.

He closed his eyes and opened his senses. He had been spending the last week pulling in all the energy he could from Hogwarts and its environs, but knew he would need more. As expected, the air
practically vibrated with power. Harry shuddered. The power here felt poisoned, slimy, tainted... but there was so *much* of it! Suddenly, Harry almost understood why a mage could go Dark. It was obvious that this power had been gained by awful means; it fairly sang with agony. The rush Harry felt when he pulled it in was like nothing he'd ever felt before.

He was brought back to reality by the sudden absence of phoenix song. Forgetting his feeling about the power, he focused on the orb he held and started to chant. Two other voices joined his as they chanted together. Slowly, the orb started to rise from his hand and drift forwards, their concentration guiding it toward the spot and the being who was Voldemort.

As the darkness began to dissipate, all those who were still alive and conscious saw a strange tableau. There, upon his frightful throne, sat, or rather slumped, the great Dark Lord. Surrounding him was his traitorous Potions Master, the son of this right hand man, and his greatest enemy. Above his comatose form was an eerily glowing orb, pulsating with a strange grayish light. A light that was reaching toward the senseless body below it while the three mages chanted.

Lucius was fighting with the last Death Eater still standing. By the fighting style he knew he was facing his insane sister-in-law Bellatrix Lestrage. He had managed to take out two of the Death Eaters during the darkness, and the third as the lights began to return, while he was staring in disbelief at his insensate master. Bellatrix was the only one left, but she was also the most dangerous.

She was laying down a barrage of spells, putting him at a disadvantage as he had to spend most of his time shielding instead of attacking. He was so busy looking for an advantage he almost missed the slight change in body language indicating a change of target.

In fact, his mind caught the warning so late that the only thing he could do was move, placing himself between the spell and Harry. He hissed as a long cut opened on his shoulder. It was time to stop playing. He couldn't allow her to disrupt the ritual.

"What's the matter, Lucy? Can't save them all, can you?" Bellatrix had stopped to taunt. It was one of her most annoying traits, and today he would finally get recompense for all those times he had grit his teeth and borne it – her need to gloat would lead to her death. Silently, Lucius sent a spell her way, a simple reflecting jinx, while at the same time verbally sending a powerful exploding curse towards the stone at her feet. Bellatrix realized it wouldn't hit her directly, so simply took a few steps backwards, while putting up a basic shield to stop the fragments of floor that would be kicked up.

The explosion curse hit the floor... and bounced. Bellatrix barely had time for her eyes to widen in horror as she realized the trick and the reflected curse hit her in the sternum. The relatively weak shield she had up didn't even slow it down. The curse blew her backwards – quite messily - and it was obvious she would not be getting up ever again.

All this time, the other three continued chanting. Their eyes had closed as they focused all of their energy, power and magic on the orb that was growing so bright it could be seen through their closed
eyelids.

With all of their attention on the magic they were weaving, and Lucius' taken by the dangerous Death Eaters, no one had noticed the cowardly one. Pettigrew snuck up to his master and poked him.
Voldemort didn't move. Tendrils from the orb were wrapping around the Dark Lord. There was almost no time left to stop whatever was happening.

Peter pulled out his wand with his silver hand. "Enervate," he squeaked.

Voldemort woke, knowing something was very, very wrong. The Malfoys had betrayed him! And while he might be awake, he couldn't move!

"Your arm," he ordered through clenched teeth. He needed a distraction so he could fight through the spells holding him, and the arrival of his minions would do just fine.

Pettigrew placed his Dark Mark against Voldemort's hand and gritted his teeth against the pain as his Mark flared while the summons was sent out.

Lucius hissed as his Mark ignited. Severus almost faltered in the spell as he felt the call. Harry's hand raised to his forehead as his scar burst into pain. Draco's eyes opened as he felt the magic.

The eyes of the three mages widened as they felt Voldemort doing the one thing they hadn't known he could do and thus had not taken into consideration. He wasn't just calling through the Dark Mark, he was pulling. He was pulling the magic of everyone connected to him! He was using that magic to break the bonds on him! Even worse, he was draining Severus and Lucius!

The magic they had been weaving was now so far advanced that it could not be stopped without violence. It had taken on a life of its own. However, because of this Harry did not have to pay as much attention, allowing him to split his concentration. He had to do something! He couldn't stop chanting to cast a spell, nor could he pull magic from the ritual to try something wordless. As Severus was being drained, Harry was having to compensate for the missing magic, not only pulling from the magic around him, but digging deeply into his own reserves.

The only option left was to do something physical. This far in, their specific placement was no longer important. As soon as that thought percolated through his brain, Harry moved. He rushed straight at Wormtail, slamming into him and pushing him away from Voldemort.

There were, however, things Harry had not taken into consideration when making his move. Such as the fact that Pettigrew was a stout, full grown man, which Harry was not. And that, while short, he was still taller than Harry, whose growth had been stunted by early malnutrition. Plus, while Harry had Quidditch and dueling-strengthened muscles, it seemed groveling and being a rat required more strength than Harry had known.

All in all, this meant that while Harry did manage to tackle Wormtail and break the connection between him and Voldemort, he was then stuck fighting for his life with the man who had betrayed his parents... and who currently had a large, silver, magically stronger-than-human hand wrapped around Harry's throat.

The only thought going through his mind as his lungs burned with need for air and darkness began to close in, was "Snape's going to kill me."

Just as he was about to pass into unconsciousness and lose the thread of magic he was sending into the ritual, completely ruining it, Pettigrew jerked back and started screaming. Perhaps it was the Life Debt Wormtail had incurred several years before that would not let him kill his friend's son. Whatever the reason, Harry was suddenly back in control of his body and Pettigrew was on the floor writhing in pain.

Harry almost panicked. He had lost the thread of the chant as his breath had been closed off by Pettigrew's hands. Thankfully, this far into the ritual the chant could be held up by only two people, as long as the magic kept coming from them all. The lines grasping Voldemort were almost solid now. There was no way he was going to escape. Harry checked his magic levels and almost choked. His reserves were practically empty. He sensed the area around him, it felt almost dead. The vast miasma of power born from death and pain that had so overwhelmed him earlier had all been used.

The ritual wasn't finished yet! Could they have been wrong? Was it possible three mages didn't hold enough power to complete it?

He looked at the other two. Draco hadn't noticed it yet, but it was obvious by the pinched scowl on Severus' face that he had, and it worried him too.

Harry cast his eyes about almost desperately. There had to be something here he could pull power from! His eyes collided with the glaring malevolent crimson ones of their opponent. An opponent who was smirking at him. It was as if he knew. He wasn't even trying to get away anymore!

Harry's eyes narrowed, blazing emerald locked with glowing ruby. Slowly, he nodded, ignoring the confusion this brought. He walked forward until he stood in front of the Dark Lord.
"Giving up, Potter? It was a good try, but not good enough," Voldemort gloated.

"Give up, Tommy? I don't think so."

"That's not my name," the Dark Lord hissed.

"Of course it is, you told me so yourself. Tom Marvolo Riddle, named after your Muggle father. The one who abandoned your mother and you when he found out she was a witch. The one you later killed and then used his bone to bring you back to life. I wonder if that means you're no longer Slytherin's Heir? I mean, that bloodline came from your mother, but you don't have any of her in you anymore, do you? Your body is made up of your Muggle father, my half-breed blood and Wormtail's flesh. Goodness, if I were you, I'd kill myself in disgust!"

Harry made sure his voice was as biting and sarcastic as he could. He wanted to make Voldemort angry enough to lose it and attack Harry. He succeeded.

As Voldemort started cursing and trying to break free once again, Harry closed his eyes. He found the connection between them and started to pull. If he hadn't been in such close proximity, it never would have worked. If Voldemort hadn't been in such an out of control rage, he would have been able to stop it.

The pain was excruciating. It felt worse than if his scar was bursting open, more like if his head were splitting. And that was *before* Voldemort realized what Harry was doing and started fighting back. If Harry could have spared the concentration, he would have screamed. Nothing had ever hurt as much as this. Not getting bit by a Basilisk, battered about by a Hungarian Horntail or beaten up by his uncle. Nothing.

But if there was one thing life had taught Harry, it was to keep going no matter how much it hurt. Giving up just led to more pain, and the only way to get through it was to keep going. So he persevered. He continued to pull magic and send it towards the orb, fighting through the pain to do so.

Until suddenly... it stopped.

Harry cried out in denial. It couldn't have failed! Not when they were so close!

His eyes slowly opened, gummed together as they had been by tears of pain. There was Voldemort, stiff and unyielding on his throne. There was the orb, glowing too brightly to be looked upon directly. And there were the gray strands that had connected the two, slowly retracting towards the orb, twined around something black, slimy and struggling.

At the last tendrils of the black *thing* left Voldemort's body, the light went out of the glowing red eyes. The body began to slump. Harry watched with wide eyes as the black was pulled completely into the orb. With one final flash the orb turned dull and black and fell onto the suddenly dissolving remains of a body that, it was now clear, had been held together solely by magic.

Harry was wavering on his feet, barely capable of standing or even staying conscious, but he forced himself to watch as Draco Malfoy, in no better shape than he was himself, torturously transformed into a fire drake.

Draco drew in a deep breath and torched the orb with the hottest flame he could create, destroying orb, throne and bodily remains in one fell swoop. He changed back and collapsed.

Harry had been barely hanging onto consciousness while he watched the final disposal of the Dark Lord. As his vision began to grey, his last sight was Lucius running forward. Finally, he allowed himself to collapse and unconsciousness carried him away.

TBC...

Only an epilogue left to go! Please let me know what you think, I'm always worried about action scenes.