CHAPTER XXV
The Sorting Hat's New Song

Harry woke up in the morning and inhaled a wonderful floral scent. Stretching, he met the familiar pressure of Ginny's limbs against his own. He tried to kiss her forehead without waking her up, but wasn't successful.

What's got you so chipper this morning? Ginny grumbled in Harry's mind. She was never a morning person.

Uhm ... I woke up next to you?

You wake up next to me every morning, she accused.

Uhm ... today is the day of the Final Battle?

Right, Ginny said sarcastically, that's a reason to wake up and be happy.

'Sorry,' mumbled Harry. He chuckled at the grumpy sheet-covered lump in his bed and teased Ginny in a dramatic tone of voice, 'Henceforth, I shall try not to be happy in the mornings, oh queen of mine.'

'That sounds better,' said Ginny, who had still not opened her eyes. 'Now be quiet and go back to sleep.'

'I can't go back to sleep,' Harry protested. 'I'm not sleepy anymore.'

Ginny groaned. 'Then at least make yourself useful.' She poked her feet out from under the blanket and wiggled them meaningfully.

Harry, getting the hint, shifted across the magically enlarged bed and pulled Ginny's feet onto his lap. He proceeded to rub them following Ginny's pedal instructions as best he could.

'Ginny?' Harry said after several minutes of silence. When she didn't respond, Harry raked a nail across Ginny's left foot sole, knowing that she couldn't stand it.

She jerked her foot back spasmodically. 'Harry!' she inhaled. 'What?' Harry's brief and uncomfortable silence told her he was about to breach a serious topic, and that he needed her full attention. 'What?' she repeated.

'I ...' Harry started uncomfortably, 'Are we still engaged?'

'Of course we are,' Ginny replied immediately, 'unless you don't want to be. You do, don't you?' For a moment she was scared that he was trying to break things off, but when she looked at Harry's relieved face, she could tell he was just looking for reassurance.

'I ... you ... we always said we were going to get married as soon as the war was over.' Harry stopped for a moment, but continued after Ginny's nod of agreement. 'What if the war's over tomorrow?'

'Then we'll get married soon,' she answered. 'Whether or not Mum wants us to wait until we're out of school, we'll get married anyway.' Ginny sent Harry one of the most reassuring smiles she could make.

'Can you make sure?' Harry asked timidly. At her inquiring look, he added. 'I just want to make sure ... that I ... that I won't have to spend another moment in life without you once this is finally over. I want to face him, certain of the fact that the next thing I'll be able to remember after twenty years, is marrying you. Please.'

Ginny understood that it was very important to him, although she couldn't quite grasp why. She didn't mind herself, and if it made him fight better, or if it even made him think he could fight better, what reason could there be not to promise him? 'I promise, Harry,' she said slowly, 'that I will make sure we get married as soon as possible.'

'Thanks,' Harry mumbled. He failed to meet Ginny's eyes, but she knew it meant a lot to him. It wasn't that Harry was afraid he might not make it; it was a lot simpler - he wanted something to fight for.

'Harry,' Ginny said, hiding a grin, 'it's half past five in the morning. Why did you wake up so early?'

'I dunno,' he answered.

'Isn't there anything you'd like to do?' She wiggled her eyebrows as she said it.

'Well, I can think of something ...'

---

Later that morning, when the smell of Mrs Weasley's scrambled eggs and bacon permeated the entire house, Harry sat at the breakfast table along with several prominent members of the Order, discussing the recapture of Hogwarts.

'Ginny is staying here, and she will be able to tell when the barrier is down. At that time, I want you all to storm Hogwarts. The Order and the Ministry together -' Harry cast a significant glance to Percy, the newest Minister for Magic, '- should be enough to take out all the Death Eaters at once. Voldemort is mine.'

'Harry,' Hermione asked, 'are you sure you want to destroy the Horcrux first? It seems to me the distraction of a battle would buy you more time for that.'

'A battle would alert Voldemort to my presence, and I think he'd rather keep one of his Horcruxes intact than keep Hogwarts at all. In other words, he would retreat before I can actually destroy the damn thing.'

'But don't we need a lot of time to search for the two items?' she asked.

'When Voldemort chose me,' Harry answered cryptically, 'he made a terrible mistake. He chose the son of one of the Marauders.'

'Harry,' Hermione pleaded.

'What?' Ron asked heatedly, defending Harry.

'I don't have a good feeling about this, Harry!'

Harry chuckled. 'Well, neither do I, but when has that ever stopped me?'

All of a sudden, Hermione gasped loudly as she gripped the chair she was leaning on fiercely. 'Aaaaaah'

Everybody in the kitchen looked at her in puzzlement and concern. Mrs Weasley was the only exception; 'Was that a contraction, dear?' When Hermione nodded in horror, she took her arm and said, 'let's get you up to your room. Come on.'

'No!' she squeaked. 'I must help Harry!'

'Nonsense, dear,' Mrs Weasley chimed, as if having contractions was an every day occurrence for her. 'You can't help Harry while giving birth to a baby.'

'But I said I'd help Harry!' Hermione complained, resisting Mrs Weasley's tug on her arm. 'I need to help Harry - I have to help Harry!'

'Hermione, don't be ridiculous,' Ron said, taking hold of her other arm. 'You can't help Harry while you're giving birth to a baby. Besides, I'll be with him. There's nothing to worry about, honestly.'

Hermione appeared to have come to the conclusion that Ron accompanying Harry was in fact something to worry about. 'The baby can wait,' she said, resisting Mrs Weasley and Ron's pulling. 'I need to help Harry!'

'Hermione, calm down,' Harry said in a very final tone. 'We'll be able to communicate through Ginny. You're no good to me if you're having contractions all over the place. Please, just concentrate on giving birth to my future niece.'

Hermione shot Harry an unhappy look before she allowed Mrs Weasley to lead her out of the room.

'So,' Ron said, closing the door behind Hermione, 'How are we getting there?'

Harry fixed him with a not-too-pleased stare. 'You're going with Hermione,' he said, without a hint to the possibility of discussion.

'I - but - I - I'm going with you,' Ron spluttered. 'I mean, Hermione's not coming already - I belong by your side!'

'No. You belong by Hermione's side. She needs you more than I do and as I said, we can communicate through Ginny.'

With a look very similar to the one Hermione had given him before she left the room, Ron stomped out of the kitchen and followed his mother and Hermione.

'Right,' Harry said. 'Everybody knows what they're supposed to do?' A collective nod and murmur of agreement was his cue to head up the stairs and fetch his two most cherished possessions: the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map that had once belonged to his father.

After coming back down to kiss Ginny goodbye, Harry transformed into a phoenix and prepared himself to flame over to Hogwarts.

It was at this point that he discovered there had been a flaw in their original plan: There was not a chance that the wards would have allowed him to firetravel if Ron and Hermione had been holding on to his tail feathers. They would let only Harry pass.

Harry disappeared in a ball of flames and reappeared almost instantly just above the astronomy tower. Taking in his surroundings to make sure no one was watching him, Harry transformed back into a human being. He sighed - the place brought back a lot of memories. Or rather - one in particular: the scene of Dumbledore's death. Harry looked at the spot where he had last seen his mentor alive and silently swore to himself that his death would be avenged that day. His anger was soothed by a melody of phoenix song that resonated in his head.

Of course Dumbledore had planned his death, but he had planned it in order to aid him, Harry, and the Order of the Phoenix in the war. It shouldn't have had to come to that at all. It was Voldemort's fault that Dumbledore died, and Harry swore that Voldemort was going to follow Dumbledore to the afterlife.

Harry was shaken out of his reverie when he noticed movement on the ground. Lots of people were building something, moving supplies, charming bricks to lay themselves. Were they adding a new wing to the castle? It seemed to Harry that if they were, most of the new chambers were going to be underground.

Wrapping the Invisibility Cloak around himself, Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map. I solemnly swear I am up to no good. As if being drawn on the spot, lines started spreading all over the old parchment and formed a perfect map of Hogwarts. The only difference was that this map wasn't complete.

Harry looked at the map again. The last time he'd checked, it was in order. However, right now the entire Slytherin wing was expanded to three times its original size and several walls ended in nothing. Apparently, the Death Eaters were extending their own house wing.

While reading some of the names of the people he was most likely to run into on his way to Dumbledore's old office, he picked up two that made him positively scowl: Alecto and Amycus Carrow. The murderous bastards had been there when Dumbledore was killed. They had cheered Draco on and wreaked as much havoc as they could before fleeing the castle like cowards. But today they would meet their destiny - Harry would make sure of it.

But first, he had to do something. He had to find and destroy the Horcrux, the item that powered the wards and Voldemort. Focusing on his task, Harry moved towards Dumbledore's office.

Voldemort had placed sentries in several random corridors. Harry was able to avoid two Crabbes, two Goyles and a Flint simply because they showed up on the map and Harry was able to detour around them. What Harry wasn't able to avoid, however, was something that did not show up on the map - an animal. Harry's luck sent him straight into the path of none other than the snake, Nagini.

At first, Harry had hoped the snake would just pass him by - he couldn't see Harry, after all. However, that theory was ruthlessly trashed when Harry heard the snake hiss, 'Intruderr - kill, rip, tear!' Before Harry could cast a spell, the snake had sunk its fangs into Harry's chest, relishing the gush of warm blood. Harry absent-mindedly registered the poison spreading through his own veins.

Before the snake could attack again, its brain was pulverized by a Reductor Curse that came from the end of Harry's wand. The Snake slumped to the ground, and Harry struggled to stand straight - the poison was making him dizzy already. He was sure he was going to die. He was going to be dead before he even faced Voldemort for the last time, before he even was able to destroy the final Horcrux.

Won't that be a great joke, Harry thought wryly, if Voldemort finds my dead body in the hallway? He knew he couldn't walk or even flash back to Grimmauld Place as a phoenix, because both options would be too draining. Resigned to his fate, Harry sat down.

Before his dizzy brain was able to accept the fact that the stone floor he was sitting on was cold, a voice he knew wasn't his echoed quite clearly in his mind. It was sad, scared, angry and Ginny's. Ginny's?

Phoenix tears, Harry! Heal yourself.

It made sense, Harry thought. He could heal himself. All he needed was tears. But where could he get some? Looking around in the corridor that was deserted but for the dead body of Nagini and his own almost-dead body, Harry saw no one and concluded he had to get them himself.

Accio tears, he thought and winced in pain as his lachrymal glands were magically forced to expel their contents to the air. One Banishing Charm later, the tears were placed on the wounds and began to work their magic.

Harry felt the dizziness leave his head and the giddiness leave his stomach as the wounds closed themselves.

That was bloody close, Harry said to Ginny he cast Reparo on the holes in his Invisibility Cloak.

Don't ever scare me like that again, she replied furiously. Now quit dawdling and focus on your task.

A few minutes later, Harry was in front of the stone gargoyle that led to Dumbledore's office. He hadn't taken the gargoyle into account when he made his plan; he didn't know the password, and he knew, from personal experience, that the gargoyle wasn't going to let him pass if he didn't say the right words. 'Cockroach Cluster?' he tried hopefully, but he didn't really expect it to be the word. What could Voldemort possibly use as password?

Harry, Ginny called, Turn into a phoenix and flame up to Dumbledore's library - it's past the gargoyle.

Harry cursed himself for not thinking of that earlier as he realized he needn't even have faced the snake and promptly forced his body to assume the shape of the magical swan-sized bird. He disappeared in a cloud of (invisible) flames and reappeared in the secret library directly opposite the headmaster's office.

Harry's gaze fell on the towering racks of books as he shuffled across the room and through the piece of ostensible wall that was really the entrance and exit. When he stood before the door that lead to Dumbledore's office, he glanced down the spiral staircase, at the bottom of which the gargoyle stood, quite unaware of Harry's illegal entry; the staircase that he had used so often to see Professor Dumbledore.

After one deep breath, Harry turned the knob and flung open the door, wand at the ready should someone be there. Finding it unoccupied, Harry removed his Invisibility Cloak, magically folded it and tucked it safely into a pocket of his robes. Hearing the voice that shocked him to his core, he cracked his neck when he turned his head as quickly as he could in order to face the speaker.

'Good morning, Harry. How are you doing?'

It couldn't have been real. He must have been imagining it since he had thought of him moments before. 'P-Pr-Professor Dumbledore?'

Harry's hopes, after they had flared, were quickly extinguished as he realized who was really speaking. It was Dumbledore's portrait, not the man himself.

'Quite correct, Harry, however inaccurate.'

'I know, I know,' said Harry, 'You're a portrait; you're not alive.' As Dumbledore nodded sadly, Harry continued, 'But that doesn't mean you can't help me, does it?'

Dumbledore sighed. 'Tradition dictates that we portraits must only offer our services to the current headmaster or headmistress of Hogwarts.' He fixed Harry with a piercing stare. 'However, one must wonder how such traditions came into being in the first place, and how they came to be the way they are.' Harry didn't realize where he was going, but he did like the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes as he spoke. 'Traditions evolve and have evolved through time because one time in history, one person did something different than the others.' Dumbledore's eye-twinkle reached a maximum at this point. 'I vote we pursue that tradition. So what do you need help with, Harry?'

'I'm looking for a ... uhm ... for a Dark object - two, in fact. And I believe they are located in this office.'

'How would two Dark objects find their way into the office of the Headmistress of Hogwarts?' the portrait of Headmaster Dippet exclaimed.

'Voldemort's here,' Harry answered simply. 'I think he would have found this office a suitable place to hide something of his. Or hasn't he entered here?'

'He has,' said Dumbledore. 'He even tried to curse my frame, but he didn't succeed. Eventually though, I'm afraid he will find a way to circumvent the protection on Hogwart's portraits. Let's hope that time never comes to pass, shall we? I shudder to think what he would do to me.'

'But you're dead already,' Harry couldn't help pointing out. 'How can you care about dying?'

'An accurate representation of myself,' came the reply, 'which is me - the portrait me - would inherit my will to protect my own existence, unless of course there is due cause, solid reason or even compelling motivation for me to pass to the netherworld. And presently, there isn't. Now let's quit talking and find these items of yours.'

'They're ... uhm ... Dark objects,' Harry repeated unnecessarily. 'I don't know exactly what I'm looking for. I think one of them may be the Sword. You know, Gryffindor's Sword, the one I pulled out of the Hat? Do you know where it is?'

Harry's only answer was the twinkling in Dumbledore's eyes. 'There's something I'm overlooking,' he concluded. 'Is it obvious?' There was no change in the lines of Dumbledore's face. 'Come on, you have to help me. Do you even know what's at stake here?'

'The only thing I intend to do,' Dumbledore said calmly with a Dumbledorish smile, 'is to allow you the pleasure and satisfaction of having solved the riddle yourself - without my help.'

Sighing in frustration, Harry looked around for clues. He saw a couple of relics from McGonagall's time in the office - the Quidditch Cup, for example, which had been won by no one since Harry's team in his sixth year, a Dictation Quill that Harry realized McGonagall must have used to send him all the letters he'd received at the Dursleys'. One item in particular that he knew had been there even before Dippet's time, caught his attention: the Sorting Hat; the one and only Hat that had announced the closure of Slytherin House last September; the same Hat that had given him the Sword when he'd most needed it. Maybe it would give him the Sword again?

Casting a victorious glance towards Dumbledore's portrait, whose occupant's face remained impassive, Harry reached up to the shelf on which the Sorting Hat lay and pulled it over his head.

'Bee in your bonnet, Harry Potter?' the voice asked, much like when he'd tried it on five years ago. Except this time, unlike the second time he'd pulled it on, it wasn't just in his head, but it was out loud and it caused a cold shiver to run down his spine.

'Yes - there's ... uhm ... well, I'm looking for this ... the Sword of Gryffindor that you gave me once. I think Voldemort may have enchanted it somehow. Do you think you could help me?'

'I most certainly can help you,' the Hat said, but continued in a sneer, 'but the real question is whether or not I want to.' Harry noticed the portrait Dumbledore's eyebrows rise to the middle of his forehead, clearly indicating sharpened attention. In fact, all the portraits Harry could see were amazed by the Hat's refusal to help Harry.

'I am a student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!' Harry near yelled. 'You are bound by honor and magic to help me!'

'Obviously those bonds have been broken,' said the voice, now amused, 'for I can now choose whom to serve.'

'What has Voldemort done to you?' Harry asked. 'How can I undo it?'

The Hat laughed in response. 'I don't think I want to tell you.'

'YOU WILL TELL ME!' Harry roared.

'Harry, Harry, Harry,' said a high, cold voice behind him that Harry instantly recognized, 'such a racket for something so insignificant". Before he even spun around with his wand in his hand, the jolt in his scar told him Voldemort was standing in the doorway. The Sorting Hat, upon realizing the same, instantly started wriggling and tightening itself around Harry's head and blocking his view.

'Give me the Horcrux,' Voldemort said calmly, 'and I will not hurt you. I promise.'

'But I don't have the Horcrux!' Harry said, spilling his negotiation cards in his panic to get the Hat off his head.

'Then give me the Sorting Hat,' Voldemort said calmly, despite the hint of impatience in his voice.

'I - can't!' Harry exclaimed, as he gave another powerful tug on the unyielding Hat. The fraction of a second that his eyes weren't blocked, however, saved his life. He saw just enough to register Voldemort's drawn wand. Instinctively, Harry turned into a phoenix and dropped down a few feet just in time to avoid the Killing Curse.

The Sorting Hat, no longer able to hold on to Harry's fist-sized head, fell to the ground. Harry promptly picked it up with his talons and flew out of the window, dodging various curses Voldemort sent at him. He was forced to land, however, when a bone-breaking curse impacted with his left wing and he was no longer able to fly.

When he reached the ground, he changed back into a human and prepared to run. However, running was impossible because there was nowhere to run to: Death Eaters were emerging from all directions.

A battle began between Harry and a large and still growing number of Death Eaters. Harry was able to hold his own at first by deflecting one Death Eater's spell to another and casting his own at a third. One troublesome thing about Death Eaters was that they were hard to take out. Harry's victims were quickly Reenervated and Unpetrified by those that were still standing. Soon, Harry switched over to the more vicious offensive spells like the Concussion Hex and the little practiced Sense Removal Jinx (which were not permanent, but would only last for a few hours).

Another annoying thing about Death Eaters was that their spells were often difficult to block. The Avada Kedavra was not being cast because the Death Eaters knew Voldemort was the one that wanted to finally kill Harry, but he really needed to put a lot of power behind his shields in order to block the Cruciatus Curse and although he could completely throw off the Imperius Curse, it did require a moment's pure concentration. Other spells such as Sectumsempra and the Piercing Charm (which he did not want to get hit by) were also used, but Harry used those to his advantage by deflecting them to whoever was least likely to be able to block or dodge it.

After only a few minutes, a golden aura of light that turned his hair and clothes white blasted into existence around Harry, much like it did during the battle in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Every spell he cast was now twice as powerful and the aura itself blocked a few minor spells cast by the Death Eaters.

But even with the aura, he was still outnumbered and he was hardly given the opportunity to cast his own spell. He was constantly being forced to dodge, deflect or block unfriendly spells. He realized he could use fire to his advantage, but he knew it wouldn't take them all out, and the state of exhaustion it would land him in would not allow him to beat the remaining Death Eaters.

When Harry spotted the first of what was to become a series of bright green Killing Curses, he knew Voldemort had arrived. He was throwing the fatal spells at Harry like a machine gun. More than once, Harry had to step into the path of a Dark spell in order to avoid getting hit by the Killing Curse.

These Dark spells, cast by the many Death Eaters surrounding him, were anything but friendly. Most of them inflicted physical damage and could thus be categorized under Skin Pealing, Flesh Tearing, Flesh Piercing, Blood Drawing and Bone Breaking spells.

The second that Harry was allowed to do his own magic, he performed the wand motion Lupin had taught him in his third year and yelled, 'Expecto Patronum!' A grand silver-and-gold stag burst from his wand and did exactly what he wanted it to do: though there were no Dementors to ward off, the Patronus came to a halt in front of Voldemort, effectively obscuring his vision. Despite his best attempts, Voldemort was unable to get rid of the embodiment of happiness. Though the frequency of his Killing Curses did not diminish, the accuracy did.

Unless he accidentally stepped in the wrong direction, he did not have to worry about getting his by the Killing Curse anymore. However, he did have to concentrate on keeping the Patronus alive to block Voldemort's sight, and that was nearly as bad; he was being hit by many curses from the Death Eaters and each one, more vicious than the last, took its toll on Harry. Soon he was covered in blood and every muscle in his body ached.

But he would not give up. He could not give up - too much depended on him. The entire world rested on his shoulders. He couldn't just fail. He wouldn't.

This was a test, really. And though it was extremely painful and exhausting, he gave it everything he had. It was up to him to save the world, and the world would be doomed if he didn't fight now.

I - need - backup! he managed to shout to Ginny.

I can't send them, Harry, came the scared reply, you need to find the whatever-it-is and destroy it first.

Destroy the whatever-it-is, he though glumly as he fell to the ground in order to avoid the brownish red bolt of light he knew was the Cruciatus Curse. Harry's Eye-Reversal Curse hit its mark and his attacker fell down. Harry, however, knew that within moments one of the Death Eater's friends would undo the curse and he would have one more opponent again. All I've got is a bloody hat that's not doing as it should.

At that point, perhaps from a former life, words echoed in his mind:

Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain. They had been talking about the Diary back then, but ...

Another piece of memory resurfaced at that point for no apparent reason:

'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,
he whipped me off his head ...

His memory flashed an image of Tom Riddle's anger when he was told by Dumbledore that he could not teach at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had suspected that he had come for another reason though ...

And then - just ten minutes ago - what had Voldemort said? Give me the Horcrux.

At once, Harry connected the dots. Voldemort had never intended the Sword to be a Horcrux; he had always wanted it to be the Sorting Hat. That was why he came back to Hogwarts after all those years: to put a piece of his soul into a very famous and valuable object. That was why the Hat was acting so weirdly. The Sorting Hat was a Horcrux.

I haven't got any potion, Harry thought, mentally referring to the mud-like black liquid that he had used to destroy all the other Horcruxes.

And as if Fortuna had finally decided to side with him, another piece of memory that Harry thought might have been from another person altogether, echoed in his mind: Avada Kedavra would let the bit of soul pass on - not to the afterworld, but back into You-Know-Who's body.'

Harry thought that ought to be good enough for the occasion - he was facing Voldemort today anyway, so he might as well be aware that Harry destroyed his Horcrux - so Harry did the only thing that made sense: he held the Hat in the path of one of Voldemort's blind Killing Curses.

On impact, the Hat shrieked and screamed, reminding Harry of the Diary when he'd destroyed that, until it fell limp to the ground. Voldemort mimicked the Hat's actions when he realized his soul was suddenly twice as large and what that meant. Voldemort was, at last, mortal.

His brief moment's lack of concentration caused his Patronus to dissolve just as Voldemort yelled, in rage, 'POTTER!' Blinded by his anger, Voldemort did not cast the Avada Kedavra next, despite the fact that Harry was now in plain sight, but the Cruciatus Curse instead.

Ironically, lucky was not the word Harry would use to describe the pain. Hellish, excruciating, agonizing and torturous were just a couple of adjectives that might have come to mind if it the pain wasn't exactly that.

But he was ready when it ended. As soon as the pain was over - and Harry knew which spell Voldemort needed that second's delay for - he reacted with an instinctive Expelliarmus.

The red beam and the green beam collided just like they had three years earlier in the graveyard. Harry welcomed the electric jolt that surged through his wand.

And then - like so long ago - Harry's feet lifted from the ground, and he saw that Voldemort, too, was being levitated into the air. A dome, a web-shaped cage of light circled around them and blocked the Death Eaters' view of them.

'Do you know what's happening?' Voldemort asked, comforting and encouraging Harry with the fear in his voice.

'Our wands,' Harry explained, 'refuse to fight each other because they share the same core - phoenix feathers. They're from Fawkes.' As he said the phoenix's name, phoenix song burst out from around them. Harry knew it wasn't just his wand and Voldemort's wand, but the phoenix, too. Fawkes was there, singing along with the wands.

'You don't happen to know what the item that powers the wards is, do you?' Harry asked the phoenix, even though he couldn't yet see him.

What did you come for? the phoenix asked in return.

'The Sword,' Harry answered himself. 'How do I get it?'

How you are meant to get it when you need it.

Harry did not waste time wondering why it was that the phoenix refused to make sense and spoke solely in riddles. Instead, he groped around in his memory to find the first time he'd ever seen the sword. He had asked for help, and the Sorting Hat had dropped the Sword onto his head. The Sorting Hat ...

'The Sorting Hat is destroyed!'

That should make it easier.

Harry glanced down to where the Hat lay. It looked like nothing more than a lot of cloth, but there wasn't the glistening of Gryffindor's Sword, nor the fabric's relief that might have hidden the Sword's bulkiness. The Sword just wasn't there.

In his mental periphery, Harry sensed Ginny hurrying up the stairs to ask Hermione something, but he couldn't waste time on that. He was facing Voldemort now.

Just as he refocused his attention on Voldemort's wand, which was now expelling quite a few of its victims - unknown faces to Harry, but they all cheered him on - Ginny called to him.

Deciding to follow the advice, Harry jerked his wand back and broke the connection. The two of them fell to the ground, but Harry was on his feet first. Instead of cursing Voldemort, he pointed his wand at the limp Sorting Hat and shouted, 'SPECIALIS EXPELLIO!' A bright flash of colorless light later, he held Gryffindor's Sword in his left hand.

Although it was gleaming, Harry realized there was blood on it - his blood. The next thing Harry realized was another jet of green light speeding all too quickly his way from the end of Voldemort's wand. Reacting instinctively, Harry held the Sword in the fatal curse's way.

It bounced off. Of all the things Harry had expected, this was the last. Killing Curses didn't just bounce off. They couldn't be stopped or deflected by anything.

But then it was a very powerful object he held and it had, by Voldemort's enchantments, imbibed the power of Harry's blood, which was known to have repelled the Killing Curse once.

Great, Harry thought, if Avada Kedavra won't destroy it, what will? Soon, however, Harry was less unhappy with the Sword as it saved his life again and again.

Voldemort quickly stopped casting Killing Curses because Harry simply deflected them to his Death Eaters and, even worse, to him. The duel quickly became one of anticipation, more than raw power and speediness.

How do I destroy the Sword, Fawkes? Harry asked the phoenix. His only answer was song - a beautiful, and yet heart-wrenching sad phoenix song.

The sound grew louder - louder even than Harry thought one phoenix could produce and when he looked up, he saw that his instinct was correct. It wasn't just one; hundreds of phoenixes were circling high above him, all singing and contributing to the volume that was increasing by the second.

Harry welcomed the song. It made him strong, and it gave him courage and the will to persist.

The Death Eaters that were still standing clapped their hands to their ears and fell to the ground, writhing as if under the Cruciatus. Voldemort sent Killing Curse after Killing Curse to the phoenixes, but the beams of green light simply refused to head anywhere near the songbirds.

The song had the most effect, however, on the Sword, which began vibrating along with the phoenix song. It started bending this way and that and twisting, just a bit further every time. The phoenixes were pumping their magic into the sword and sooner or later, it would -

SNAP! The sound was deafening, but it was drowned by the subsequent gong-like sounds of the wards falling because the Sword had broken in two. Harry now held merely the hilt and the first quarter of the blade. The rest lay on the ground, gleaming weakly as if exhausted after a hard day's work.

In no time at all, the entire Order of the Phoenix, the Ministry of Magic, and pretty much everyone who had prepared themselves for the battle was storming Hogwarts grounds. The Final Battle began in earnest.

Amidst the confusion - man fighting man, beasts fighting men, giants killing everyone across their path, centaurs fighting for who-knows-whose side - Harry sought Voldemort. He had unfinished business with him, and he would end it now.

It didn't take him long to find his foe. He only had a couple of seconds to wonder how they got separated in the first place (and why Voldemort allowed it to happen), before his scar focused his attention for him.

Voldemort was dueling Kingsley Shacklebolt, who wasn't holding out well. He was sporting a large number of serious injuries and Harry knew he was going to have to give up soon.

When Voldemort was preparing to cast the Killer Curse, Harry reacted instinctively: he cast a silent Concussion Hex. Voldemort, having to resort to the "Muggle" method of dodging, missed Kingsley in the process.

'Trying to chicken out, are we, Tom? I never thought you'd stoop to that level, but I guess I was wrong about a lot of things, wasn't I?'

'I would gladly face you in a fair duel, Harry,' replied Voldemort, who responded to Harry's spell with an Evisceration Curse Harry hadn't seen before, 'not one in which a cowardly thief like yourself robs me of my insurance!'

'You mean fair from your perspective, not necessarily mine.' Harry released three mild stunners at once, knowing that Voldemort couldn't block them all three and would have to move.

'Your wish is not to kill me, Harry, is it?' he asked, sending Harry's middle stunner back and moving into its would-be path. 'Or you'd have tried something stronger than a stunner. Above such brutality, are you?'

'I'll give you something stronger!' Harry shouted as he ignited a leaf of grass and channeled the flame to become a firestorm, surrounding Voldemort, depriving him of his air.

Voldemort's aptitude at extinguishing fire had increased since the battle at the Ministry. He could now, though not completely extinguish it, keep the fire octopuses at a sufficient distance in order to attack Harry with a barrage of quickly-cast spells. The spells did not distract Harry enough, as Voldemort hoped, for him to forget about controlling the fire.

'It almost feels like a waste to kill you,' Harry panted - the fire was exhausting him - 'you know so much about the war, and about magic. But it will be worth it in the end.' He shot Voldemort a particularly nasty smile. 'Although, I still have one question, . and I'm sure you have one to ask me, too.'

Voldemort switched over to Unforgivables. The intervals between his curses were long enough for Harry to dodge them with ease. 'Just one,' Voldemort agreed. 'About the prophecy ... I know Dumbledore shared it with you.'

'He did.' Harry said, trying to decide whether or not to recite it. In the end, he did recite it to Voldemort, figuring that after the battle, it would be irrelevant anyway - either way.

After Harry had finished citing Trelawney's words, Voldemort took a couple of curse-free seconds to take in the information. Or at least - he seemed to; Harry wasn't fooled. Sure enough, the next Killing Curse came so suddenly, Harry barely had time to dodge it.

'My question,' Harry continued calmly, but out of breath nonetheless, 'relates to the prophecy, in some way. I am the one the prophecy refers to, because you chose to mark me. Why did you choose me at all? Why not Neville Longbottom?' Saying it was like lifting a heavy load off his shoulders;, it made him feel like an angel, as if he could rise into the air without difficulty.

'I was not aware there was another child the prophecy could have referred to,' Voldemort answered, groping back into the deserted chambers of his memory. 'My loyal servant said there was only one.'

'WHO?' Harry shouted.

'SNAPE!' Voldemort roared back.

That did it. The revelation that Severus Snape was in fact not loyal to him, Voldemort, and that he had, in fact, fooled him for so long, caused his blood to boil as he cast the most violent Blaster Curse he had ever seen.

For Harry, the revelation that Snape had chosen him, instead of Neville, did it. Snape had chosen him, because he knew Voldemort would consequently kill his father and, at his request, let his mother live. Snape had chosen him because of a school-time grudge against his father.

Harry was so taken aback that he didn't register the curse until it was too late: it impacted head-on in his chest, sending him flying backwards, breaking a couple of bones because of the sudden acceleration.

He collided with a tree. His limbs curled around it and broke every bone in his body in at least two places. He knew he wouldn't be able to get back up. He'd lost. Voldemort was going to win.

Somewhere, beyond his vision, maybe in the back of his mind, he heard a woman scream. She was running towards him, her fiery red mane dancing behind her.

'Ginny?' She nodded meekly as she knelt beside him, sadness in her eyes. 'What are you doing here?' he whispered.

'I followed you,' she admitted, as she placed a kiss on his forehead. 'Come on, Harry, get up. We need to get you out of here now! He's still here.'

'Touching, touching,' said Voldemort, who was advancing royally, enjoying every inch of his procession towards the couple.

'I can't,' Harry said. 'But you can still go. Run for it. He'll let you go.'

'I'm not going without you, Harry!'

'Yes you are! Why on earth do you have to be so damn stubborn? GO! Don't you know what's good for you? He'll kill us both!'

'I won't let him kill you, Harry.'

'Yes,' Voldemort sneered, 'say your last goodbyes, girl, because they will be his last.'

Ginny drew her wand, but Voldemort was quicker and he hit her with a silent Expelliarmus. Reacting stoically to the loss of her wand, she stood in front of Harry, blocking him from Voldemort's view. 'Take me instead.'

'No, Ginny!' Harry shouted, the volume taking all of his strength away. 'Get out of here while you still can!'

'This seems awfully familiar - a foolish red-haired girl, trying to block me from killing, begging me to take her life instead of that of Harry Potter! My, my, where have I seen that before?'

'I'm not afraid of you, Tom!' she said, lifting her chin and looking him right in the eyes.

'Ginny!' Harry tried again. 'Listen to me! There's nothing you can do. Go away now - please.'

'Listen to the boy, girl,' Voldemort said. 'Stand aside, and your life may be spared.'

'No!' she yelled, refusing to move. 'You will take me instead.'

'So be it,' Voldemort sighed. 'AVADA KEDAVRA!'

After a flash of red that might have been her hair, coupled with a flash of green that probably was the fatal curse, Ginny lay lifeless on the ground.

Harry instantly reached out for her in his mind, but he was met by silence - emptiness. He came to the irrefutable conclusion that she was, in fact, dead.

A new sort of magic coursed through Harry's veins. He understood now, why Dumbledore had always said that love is the most powerful magic there is. He had loved Ginny so intensely that every emotion he now felt was fueled by it. Sadness. Grief. Anger. Disappointment. Fear. Separation. It was the magic that Lily Potter invoked the night she died to save her son, the magic that could easily cause the Killing Curse to backfire.

The emotions were so powerful that they could tear apart any thing nature built, anything Muggles constructed and anything wizards created. They just had to be focused on a single goal, like the light of the sun can be focused on an ant in order to kill it.

And Harry had a goal. The one, conscious thought in his mind - differing from the blur of emotions by sheer anger - was to kill the monster that had robbed him of his love - his source of comfort, of everything that he held dear.

He felt every bone in his body mend. He stood up, without forcing his legs and arms to perform the necessary movements. His wand was magically summoned to his awaiting hand.

For the first time in his life, he thought of Voldemort as a monster. Up until now, he had always considered him a misguided soul - a child who, guideless, made the wrong conclusions about life and turned bitter and sadistic. That thought would not reenter his mind.

Voldemort was a monster. A demon of evil for whom the Dementor-infested Azkaban was far too good. Harry could only hope the afterlife would find a suitable way for him, to leave him writhing in agony throughout eternity.

'Avada Kedavra!' The words rolled off his lips, because he had never hated them more. They reminded him of the creature in front of him, the creature, the once-human being that had killed Ginny ...

The curse caught Voldemort off-guard. It hit him in the chest, and his eyes were wide in fear. He fell to the ground, lifeless.

As lifeless as Ginny ...

He silently walked towards her body and rolled it over to see her face. He could have sworn there was the ghost of a smile etched onto her face.

He could see her twice. On the one hand, he saw her limp body and slightly smiling face. On the other, he saw her laughing or snorting at one of his jokes, or he saw her cheeks jerking into the grin she wore when she was teasing him. Her eyes were full of passion ... Were. Used to be. Once.

'Had to take her with you, did you?' Snape's silky voice penetrated his eardrums, 'Great Harry Potter doesn't have enough glory, does he? He must kill the Dark Lord, but only after making a great sacrifice, for otherwise he will not be seen as the glorious hero that he thinks he is. Tell me something, Potter. Is your fame worth her life? Or did you really want her dead that badly?'

The anger that had possessed him moments before - or at least he thought it was moments, it might have been a couple of days - when he killed Voldemort, possessed him once again. The words were off his lips before he even thought them. This man had insulted Ginny. Not only that, but he had also as good as killed his father.

Snape was the third to fall limply to the ground in front of him.

The next thing that Harry did was the only thing that made any sense. He fled. He ran like he never ran before. Once he knew he had passed the boundaries of Hogsmeade, he Apparated as far away as possible.

He had used the Killing Curse - twice. He had wanted to kill other human beings. He felt disgusted with himself for it, and he should, because he was no better now than Voldemort.

And he'd gotten Ginny killed ... it was all his fault. Everything seemed so meaningless now.