Chapter 25

-o0oOo0o-

Draco Malfoy was pacing back and forth wondering whether he would live to see tomorrow or not. A Malfoy bows to no one, his father had told him. The Malfoy blood is as old as Magic itself, he had said, and that is why it is better than any other. Remember it, my son, and act accordingly.

And Draco remembered. And Draco had acted. But now his father was dead, the Malfoy name trampled into the mud and the Malfoy fortune all but gone. Now he himself was trapped between two half-bloods, his hands tied by a web of threats, lies and oaths. Worst of all, as much as he hated to admit it, both of them were more powerful than him in every meaningful way.

Draco jumped in fright as the door of the classroom he was hiding in opened.

"Ah, there you are," Harry said, closing the door behind him. "You were surprisingly hard to find today. How did you find this place, anyway?"

Draco glared at Harry. No one should have known where he was. He was about to do something extremely dangerous, didn't he deserve a chance to fret in private?

"Well, are you ready to earn your freedom?" Harry asked, not affected by Draco's glare. "You do remember your role tonight?"

"Yes I do," Draco snapped. "How could I not? It's not something you forget easily: oh, I almost forgot I was about to betray the Dark Lord, how careless of me. You still haven't told how I'm supposed to get away from this alive?"

"Good that you asked," Harry replied evenly. "That's actually why I wanted to see you."

Harry took an old sock and a potion vial from his pocket, and gave them to Draco. "That's a portkey and a vial of polyjuice potion," he explained. "There's a broomstick waiting for you in the Room of Requirement. You'll have three seconds to get out of the clearing after Voldemort enters; that's when I'll blow the room. Make those seconds count. After you get out of the castle with the broomstick, use the portkey. The activation phrase is mother. Narcissa should be waiting for you where it lands, she will take you out of the country."

"Out of the country?" Draco asked, stunned. "But everything I know is here in Britain!"

"Well, you'll have to learn new things then, don't you? There is no future for you here. There is no future for the Malfoy family. Besides, you will already be dead; your body will be found in one of the unused classrooms later today, this one might do nicely. Unfortunately they will never catch the killer, but as Blaise Zabini will the only student unaccounted for, he will be the obvious suspect. Especially after the forensics will show that it was his wand that killed you."

"But, but..." Draco stammered.

"Your mother, on the other hand –" Harry continued, "will die when the leaderless Death Eaters accidentally burn down the Malfoy Manor, where they were hiding. It'll be a tragedy, of course, and her body will never be found to be buried. But then again everyone knows that your father was a death eater and that she really had no other choice."

Harry watched Draco wordlessly open and close his mouth. "It would be very unwise to try to come back with your old name," Harry continued. "It would be exceedingly awkward trying to explain how why there is a grave with your name on it if you are still alive. And make no mistake, you won't be the hero of this story. Your role will be that of an evil bastard who tried to get half of Hogwarts killed, but who was too incompetent to make it happen: the official explanation will be that you were stupid enough to not to notice me and my friends hiding around the cabinet. You should really be happy that I'll help you by faking your death, otherwise both the Ministry and the remaining supporters of Voldemort would want to see you dead."

"Well, I have to go now, I have other things to attend to before the attack. Just remember: three seconds, polyjuice, broom, mother. Got it? Good."

Harry stepped out of the room, leaving Draco clutching an old sock and a potions vial full of thick brown concoction.

- O -

Amelia Bones was sitting in her office, tapping her wand nervously on her desk. She had donned her old auror robes, where she had added the the stripes of the Commander in Chief that came with the position as the minister. Hanging on a wall opposite to her was a map that showed all alerts issued for the DMLE. For the moment it was empty, but any moment now it would light up like a Christmas tree when Voldemort's assault began.

The director of the DMLE, Rufus Scrimgeour and the current Head Auror, John Dawlish were both present; the former pacing nervously in front of the minister's desk.

"Are you going to tell us what kind of information you have for having us on alert like this?" the large man with lion-like looks asked, stopping abruptly.

Amelia looked at her second in command, glanced at the map, and then the clock. Nothing was happening yet.

"I might as well," she said, leaning back in her chair. "Potter has hijacked Voldemort's plan to attack Hogwarts, and is going to lay an ambush for him. At the same time Voldemort will launch massive attacks all over the country to draw our forces out. We need to deal with that while Harry deals with Voldemort."

Amelia enjoyed the looks of surprise on her subordinates' face, although the only outward show of emotion was a slight frown when Dawlish winced at the Dark Lord's name.

"If things go according to plan, the war will be over today."

"Potter?" Scrimgeour asked. "But Potter already claimed that the war was over, and..." he paused mid sentence.

"Potter did that on purpose?" he asked, and looked accusingly at Amelia. "And you knew all along?"

"Yes. As to why I didn't tell you, well, you didn't need to know. We know there's someone inside the department who's feeding information to the other side, and if there were rumours of big operations it could have compromised everything."

Amelia smiled weakly at the two men. "And it was hard enough for me to accept that Potter is fighting this war for us," she said. "I can't imagine what your reaction would have been."

Scrimgeour frowned, the full implications only now sinking in.

"So that's our role? Watching from the side and cleaning up whatever mess Potter makes?"

Amelia sighed. She knew Rufus had planned a political career on being the director who took down Voldemort, and losing claim to that to Harry couldn't be easy for him to accept.

- O -

"Alright, guys, this is it," Harry said, marching into the Room of Requirement. "Time to get ready. Remember what we talked on Friday: no one gets hurt. Stay hidden, stay silent and protect your ears, and when the trap is sprung stay on offensive until every one of them is down. We must not let Voldemort gain initiative, understood?"

Harry looked around and saw everyone nodding in agreement.

"I want ten wands trained on Voldemort from the beginning, and only Voldemort. The rest will first take care of the other death eaters. Do I have volunteers?"

Harry looked with satisfaction as ten wands were quickly raised. He smirked at Neville who kept his down; he knew Neville was counting on Bellatrix to come, and didn't want to miss an opportunity to curse her.

"Great! And remember, non-lethal only. We need to get Voldemort alive, or he will simply make himself a new body like before. So bone breakers, bludgeoning spells, blinding curses, fire… I don't care how badly he is hurt as long as he still breaths."

"And if everything else fails, you have your brooms. Fly out of the Room as fast as possible, and alert everyone in the castle. And take care of your friends. No one gets left behind."

Harry took a more relaxed stance and continued with a softer voice. "If everything goes to plan none of this is needed. The traps we have in place should be enough to defeat them all. But if there is one thing I have learned from Voldemort it's that you should never underestimate your opponent. He is one slippery bastard."

"That's it," he said, clapping his hands. "Let's take our positions. Good luck!"

- O -

Number 42 Diagon Alley was situated in the outer side of the only bend in the busy street that housed the commercial centre of Wizarding Britain. This premium piece of real estate had been in the possession of the Black family since time immemorial, and the current building that housed the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes store was built in the mid-nineteenth century.

The corner of the building jotted into the alley in a strange angle, making sure that whatever business resided in the building would be visible to every part of the Alley. It also meant that the sitting room situated in the same corner of the third floor apartment had a commanding view over the whole street.

In this sitting room the proprietors of the shop below were preparing for the attack that would begin any moment now.

"Oi, Fred! How many of those vials did we get?" George asked loudly, tinkering with a strange contraption built mainly of brass which shone in the sunlight flooding through the large windows.

"Potage had just shy of three hundred on stock. Poor man almost had a stroke when I bought them all. Pritchard would have had more, but they were wrong size," Fred answered, walking in arms full of longish boxes. "He stocks the German fifteen millimeter vials, when we need half-inch ones."

"Damn. Well, that'll have to do. What flavours do you have there?"

"Mostly Boomjuice, but there's three magazines of assorted fun stuff, including the Fluffy Bunny potion."

The contraption George was tinkering with was their latest invention, the Weasley Wheezer. It was a seven barreled ("one for each of us," the twins had explained when they had had Bill over to help with the enchanting), hand crank operated rotary gun. The weapon used runic array based banishing charms to propel standard fifty caliber potions vials towards unsuspecting enemies up to one hundred and fifty yards away with a sustainable rate of fire of nearly one hundred rounds per minute. Combined with Fred and George's twisted genius with potions and the strategic position of their sitting room, the Wheezer could ruin the day of anyone staying anywhere in the Alley. In short, it was going to be an interesting experience for the Death Eaters.

- O -

Alastor Moody was sitting in the Hog's Head pub in Hogsmeade, his back against the wall in the far end of the bar, keeping an eye on the patrons while his left hand was toying with a tumbler of whiskey; his right hand never wandered far from his waist where his wand was in an easy access holster.

When Harry Potter had approached him through Nymphadora Tonks a week ago, Moody had been skeptical. What could a sixteen year old lad have to offer for him? But inquiries made through his old contacts in the ministry had piqued his interest: things just didn't add up when it came to the young Potter, and there were rumours of unbelievable deeds attributed to him circulating among the aurors. Moody knew there had to be something different going on at the Nott home before Christmas; he had personally studied the wards around that old house twenty years earlier, and the aurors couldn't possibly have broken through them with the ease it was reported.

Moody's spinning eye fixed itself on the door shortly before it opened. Three men dressed in heavy cloaks walked in, their grizzled faces shadowed by the large hats they wore. Their alert eyes took in every detail of the pub before the men marched towards Moody at the bar.

The barman saw their approach, and laid down three glasses and a bottle of firewhiskey next to where Moody was sitting. The apparent leader of the men grunted his thanks, and poured a healthy amount of the amber liquid in the glasses. He and his comrades took long sips, and sat down facing Moody, who was carefully taking in their every move.

The leader took his time enjoying the taste of the beverage, before he faced Moody's eyes head on.

"So, what's the plan, Alastor?"

Moody barked a laugh. "What makes you think I have a plan? Can't a man just ask his friends for a drink without ulterior motives?"

The man snorted and sipped his drink. "It's been over fifty years since we fought Grindelwald's men in France, Alastor," he said. "And this is the first time you are buying us drinks. Don't confuse us with the snot-nosed kids wearing the uniform these days."

Moody laughed again. "Too true," he replied. "Fudge gutted the force worse than Grindelwald and Voldemort combined. And you're right, I do have a plan."

Moody whipped out his wand and weaved a series of privacy spells over the four of them, before stowing it away once again.

"I have reliable information that Voldemort is planning a massive assault today. He plans to take the country hostage. And Hogsmeade is one of his targets."

"What makes you think this information is something we would be interested in?"

"Please, I'm not a rookie either," Moody said. "The only reason you're not fighting is that you don't know where the fight is. Every ex-auror is the same, at least the good ones."

The man hummed agreeably, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "So the plan is to sit here until the attack begins, and then bag some death eaters?" he asked. "I believe you have a deal."

- O -

Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin were sitting in a café in Godric's Hollow, waiting for the attack to begin. Their ability to blend in with the muggle population had got them the assignment to watch out over one of the largest mixed communities of the country, and the scene of Voldemort's downfall fifteen years earlier.

Tonks, who was sporting normal looking shoulder length brown hair was staring into her cup of coffee, avoiding the eyes of the werewolf sitting across the table.

"Tonks, what's wrong?" Remus asked, worry clear in his voice.

Tonks sighed. "It's —" she started, and looked up to Remus. "Remus, I think I'm pregnant."

Remus' eyes widened. "What?"

"I think I'm pregnant, Remus," she said. "And you are the father."

"What... How?" Remus spluttered, before he grasped the meaning of the words.

His stupor was quickly broken by a look of fear. "Tonks!" he exclaimed. "You shouldn't be here! What if something happens?"

Tonks' eyes flashed black and a strand of her hair turned an angry shade of red.

"Now listen here, governor!" she growled. "Just because you put your sprog in me doesn't mean you get any say on what I can or cannot do; don't forget that I'm the auror in this operation, while you're just a civilian. If there's going to be any ordering around, it will be me ordering you!"

"But..."

"No buts. I'm not even your wife, for Morgana's sake! How do you expect to have any authority over me?"

- O -

Dumbledore was sitting in his office, staring intently at the fire that was burning in his fireplace. Snape was standing next to the wall near the door, his face impassive mask, while the other members of the Order of Phoenix were sitting in chairs around the desk.

"Could you tell us why you called us together?" Elphias Doge asked. "Didn't Mr. Potter say in the Prophet that the war was as good as over?"

"I am afraid that the article was less than accurate," Dumbledore answered. "I believe Tom will be making his biggest move thus far today."

Snape's face turned into a sneer. "I told you that," he spat. "But did you listen? Potter inherits a title, and immediately he is more arrogant than ever, and thinks he knows everything."

Dumbledore turned his head at the Potions Master and Defence Professor, and gave him a look that showed just how old and tired the Headmaster truly was. "Severus, please refrain from from making such comments," he said. "I know what Tom is planning based solely on what Harry told me earlier. That article was merely a way of ensuring Tom followed the plan Harry wanted him to follow."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I have failed Mr. Potter earlier by presuming this was my war to lead, a failure Mr. Potter has seen fit to explain to me. I feel deeply ashamed that it needed to be explained in the first place."

Dumbledore raised his gaze to the gathered members of the Order, a new spark igniting in his eyes.

"The Order of Phoenix is no longer the vanguard against the forces of darkness," he declared. "That place has been taken by others. Today our duty is to help the younger generation, when they take the steps to form our world in their image."

"What do you mean by that?" Doge asked. "Of course we will be in the front. We've always been."

"Not today, actually not for the past year, either," Dumbledore explained. "Young Harry has been leading the fight, something I understood only recently. Our part in this fight is to protect those who cannot defend themselves, while those younger than us will take the fight to the enemy."

"So what will we do? Where will we go?"

Before Dumbledore had time to respond, a former headmistress of Hogwarts Dilys Derwent appeared in her portrait, looking distressed. "Albus!" she exclaimed. "So good you are here. St. Mungo's is under attack! Death Eaters are attacking everyone in sight!"

Dumbledore rose to his feet. "There is your answer. We leave immediately," he said. "Minerva, I'll leave the castle in your capable hands."

- O -

"Honey!" Michael Thorn shouted, as he rushed to the closet where he kept his uniform. He swore as he fumbled with the door and dropped his wand clattering on the floor. "I need to go! It's some kind of an emergency!"

Michael had graduated from the auror program only two weeks ago, and despite the rushed nature of the wartime graduation, the ceremony had been one of the proudest moments of his life. The training had been hard and more than once he had felt out of his depth, but he had persevered, and got the dream job he had been rejected from five years ago when he had left Hogwarts.

When he and his squad had received the orders to stay on heightened alert for this day Michael had thought nothing of it. They were the junior squad in the force, and it was only natural they would get the short end of the stick. He only expected to get called in if someone more senior got injured in the field, or just wanted to leave for a longer holiday with their family before Easter. But now that his badge had started to flash and beep telling him he had five minutes to get to the Headquarters, he started to curse his rotten luck.

"What is it?" his wife of only six months, Rosalie Thorn neé Summerby asked from the door. He knew she had been preparing dinner, a dinner he would almost certainly miss.

"It's my job. You knew this was possible, right honey?" Michael said, taking her hand and kissing her on the lips. "I really need to go. Keep safe."

"You too, Michael," she said, holding his hand tightly. "Don't try to be a hero, and come back home safely."

"Don't worry, Rosie," Michael assured his wife. "We are the best, and we aren't going to leave our comrades behind."

He wriggled his hand out of her grasp, and activated the portkey in his badge.

At Auror Headquarters chaos reigned. All of the fireplaces in the response room were burning green as worried citizens were calling in for help, and there were more aurors coming and going than Michael remembered ever seeing.

"Clear the pad," someone said, grabbing Michael's arm and yanking him away from where he had arrived. "We have everyone coming in, move your arse!"

Michael started moving, his brain still working on trying to understand what was going on.

"Mike!" a familiar voice shouted from the crowd.

Michael's squad leader Charlie Puckle was waving for him from one corner, where he was holding a quick briefing with the other squad members. Charlie wasn't much older than Michael, but he had went through the more extensive training program before Amelia had become the minister, and as such had got himself his own squad even without much experience.

"What's going on?" Michael asked when he managed to find his way through the busy room to his squad.

"You-Know-Who is making his big move," Charlie said with a grim face. "There's attacks all over the country, and the director has called everyone in. Good thing, too; it seems he and the minister are seriously worried about this attack," he said, nodding with his chin.

Michael's gaze followed the motion towards the isolated area over the main floor where Rufus Scrimgeour and Amelia Bones were standing over a map barking orders. The minister was dressed in full combat robes that made sure no one forgot where she had started her career.

"As soon as Baker squad arrives, we'll leave for Hogsmeade," Charlie continued. "The rapid response team is there already, but they report that there's giants, and they can't hold much longer."

Michael's face lost colour as he heard that. Giants were one of the toughest foes one could imagine: they were almost impervious to spells, and had enough intelligence to work against an enemy instead of simply bashing around mindlessly.

"That's right," the Head Auror John Dawlish said, arriving with a length of rope. "Our men count on you to get them out of trouble."

"You leave in twenty seconds," he said, handing the rope. "The latest news is that there's a group of civilians fighting with us, so watch out who you curse. Don't hit the friendlies!"

Michael adjusted his hold of his wand, and grabbed the rope. This would be his first experience with live fire, and he suddenly realized that there was no way he was ready for it.

- O -

Bellatrix Lestrange was cackling insanely as she threw spell after spell at the people in the lobby of the St Mungo's hospital. Some had tried to fight to back, but there were few who had what it took to stand against the most feared witch in Voldemort's forces.

Bellatrix' wand danced its deadly dance with a flourish which betrayed the fact that she was enjoying herself immensely. A turquoise spell shot from the wand and impacted with the sole auror still standing of the squad assigned to guard the wizarding hospital, and he fell down to the floor with a scream of anguish, all tendons from his legs snapped.

"Did the poor auror hurt himself?" Bellatrix taunted as the man tried to reach for his wand that had fallen to the floor. "Let Bella help you forget the pain. Crucio!"

Angry red bolt of magic sped towards the helpless auror who looked at it eyes wide with terror. Only a fraction of a second before it hit him a chair leaped into movement from the wall and intersected the spell, disintegrating in the collision.

The cry of a phoenix filled the lobby as Bellatrix turned to look at who had dared to come between her and her target.

"Dumbledore!" she screeched, as she saw the ancient headmaster standing to the side dressed in his colourful robes. She watched the tip of his wand tracing small circles in the air. All the furniture in the room was assembling around him ready to respond to the commands of his magic.

"Indeed, Miss Black," Dumbledore said. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to lower your wand so that we can end this madness without further bloodshed."

"Never!" Bellatrix shouted and raised her wand. "Avada Kedavra!"

Dumbledore had ordered one of the chairs to block the spell the moment Bellatrix moved her arm, and was commanding a bench and a newspaper stand to a counterattack, when someone appeared straight between the two combatants with a small pop. Snape had barely enough time to recognize the spell coming at him when the strings of life were cut from his body and he slumped to the floor, dead.

There was a pause in the fighting as both opponents looked at the man who had so suddenly entered and left the fight. The furniture was rocking in place uncertainly as the will keeping them in motion faltered.

Bellatrix was quicker of the two to react. "I killed the traitor!" she shouted with a childish glee and an insane giggle. "I killed the traitor! What do you say to that, old man? He never knew how to keep that beaky nose of his out of other people's business, now did he?"

Dumbledore looked at the lifeless body of his most trusted confidant. He raised his eyes to stare at Bellatrix, his face thunderous. Magic gathered around him causing his long hair to float and robes to billow; the furniture around him stood at a new alertness, the newspaper stand growing sharp horns while the papers itself reconfigured themselves as wings.

"You really shouldn't have done that," the Headmaster said grimly, looking every bit the man of his reputation as the bench beside him burst spontaneously in flames. "Now I am forced to end you."

"Eep!" was all Bellatrix had time to say before she apparated out of the way of the charging furniture.

- O -

Damien Greengrass stood at the the window of his study. His wards had alerted him of an attack, but as he looked out, he couldn't see but two men dressed in black throwing spells at the invisible barrier that protected his home and family.

He drummed his fingers at the windowsill. Daphne and Harry had told him to be ready in case someone attacked. They suspected such attack might be only a diversion in order to create mayhem and prevent the aurors from making concentrated effort in countering the attacks. And from the looks of it they had been right. Even if he hadn't had the wards, the wizards outside didn't seem to be too much of a threat.

Damien sighed. He really didn't think it was his job to take the fight to the enemy, but he couldn't just let the death eaters leave to terrorize someone who wasn't lucky enough to be protected as well as he was. Besides, after he had deciphered the book Harry had given him for Christmas he had found some fascinatingly disturbing ideas for protection he really wanted to try.

Turning away from the window, Damien walked to the fireplace on the opposite wall. He gently picked up a delicate but extremely sharp silver dagger laying on the mantlepiece and after a short hesitation sliced on his left thumb just enough to draw blood. He smeared the blood on a set of runes carved in the mantlepiece, watching as it sank into the stone. The whole building seemed to hum with magic and the runes started to glow slightly, until the tension suddenly discharged in blindingly bright flash of purple light and a dry sound of a thunderclap.

Peace and quiet returned, the wards no longer crying under attack. Damien looked up at a portrait of a Greengrass long passed, who only nodded in silent approval.

- O -

"This is it, guys," Fred said to George and Angelina as a horde of wizards, witches, hags, vampires and other residents of the Knockturn Alley ran out of their shady street to the Diagon Alley, led by a small group of Death Eaters.

"The Big One," George added, releasing the safety switch of the Wheezer, and the first potion vial dropped from the magazine into the weapon.

"The one we've all been waiting for," Angelina finished the familiar words with a nervous smile. "Can't you two be serious even on a moment like this?" she asked.

"When it's a question of whether you should laugh or cry, we always choose laughing," Fred answered, and took a firm hold of the crank of the Wheezer and heaved the weapon into motion.

Down in the Alley, the mob was already starting to fan out from the entrance of Knockturn when the first burst of potion vials hit the cobblestones, exploding at the impact. Shockwaves and flying shrapnel forced the advancing force to cover, allowing the guarding aurors who had been in serious trouble time to regroup and send their injured to safety.

- O -

Harry watched with growing anxiety as more and more death eaters were coming through the cabinet. He would never have guessed Voldemort would bring this many people with him. And they had trolls! Voldemort clearly wasn't about to underestimate Harry and the DA after the setback in Hogsmeade.

The trolls were growling and sniffing around, shaking their huge clubs in threatening manner.

"Is little Draco-poo scared of big bad trolls?" Bellatrix mocked when Draco slowly inched away and towards the safety of cover. "You need to stomach much uglier things than these if you ever want to properly serve the Dark Lord."

Bellatrix drew her wand and fired a stinging hex at one of the trolls, causing it to roar in anger and thrash against the chains that kept it still. Bellatrix just laughed at Draco's scared face and the attempts of the other death eaters to hold the massive beasts still.

"Let it go, Bella," Rodolphus Lestrange said to his wife, and stopped her hand before she had time to fire more spells. "The little shit is no better than his father. Malfoys have never been any use besides their money," he continued, and sneered at Draco. "And you don't have much left, now do you?"

Before Draco had time to decide how to answer to the taunts, he was distracted by a noise from above.

Piercing pain lanced through Harry's scar. With an audible gasp Harry doubled over and the triggers slipped from his hands and clattered on the platform he was crouching on.

Voldemort, who had just stepped through the cabinet, trained his eyes towards the sound. The sight of Draco diving behind a heavy set of drawers caused his eyes to widen in realisation.

"It's a trap!" he bellowed, the yew and phoenix feather wand slicing through air, his magic rushing forwards to protect him.

Fighting through the pain Harry reached for the first trigger, his wand having never been in any danger of slipping from his hands despite the throbbing in his forehead. With a trembling hand he brought his wand at the trigger, and tapped.

Everywhere in the clearing devices hidden within the various items came to life, the magic loaded in them springing into action. All around the Death Eaters mountains of junk exploded towards them filled with potions and traps. Few were fast enough to shield themselves with magic while some were lucky enough to be protected by the bulk of the lumbering beasts they had with them. But the relief was short-lived as Harry reached for the other trigger.

Up in the owlery owls were shaken awake from their sleep as the whole castle shook, and a thundering rumble of an explosion echoed around the Hogwarts valley.

- O -

Narcissa Malfoy was hurrying her way through Malfoy manor. She was coming up from the basement where Borkin had been keeping his shadier merchandise ever since Bones became the minister, and where the Dark Lord had used the vanishing cabinet to go to Hogwarts with her sister and a frightening number of other Death Eaters. And they had trolls! Narcissa clutched her wand tighter, anxious about her son. The Dark Lord was strong, and it didn't seem likely that Potter could defeat him, but she still had to keep her end of the deal, even if it wasn't for the oath she had taken. No matter what happened, people would come for her and her son: if the Dark Lord won they would be traitors, if he didn't, they would be death eaters.

Narcissa arrived to the great ballroom where Voldemort had been holding court for nearly two years now, and immediately noticed the huge snake coiled in front of the fireplace. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as she saw the Persian carpet under the snake, stained with blood and other things she didn't even want to consider. It was yet another example of the boorishness of the Dark Lord: that carpet was given by Sultan Suleiman to one of the Malfoy ancestors as a gift for his part in negotiating the Franco-Ottoman alliance in the 16th century. It was said to be part of the legendary magical treasure of the princess Badroulbadour. And now it was lowered to being a warmer for a bloody pet.

Shaking her head Narcissa walked past the ballroom and up towards her personal quarters.

- O -

Michael Thorn stopped at the corner of a building in Hogsmeade to look up, as the sound of a distant thunder rolled from the direction of the Hogwarts castle. There was not a cloud in sight, and the sun was slowly setting towards the horizon, painting the sky in golden hues.

He was just about to ask what the sound was, when a strong hand grabbed his shoulder and dragged him down and away from the corner, which exploded in splinters by invisible force only a fraction of a second later. From the ground he looked in horror as the most scarred man he had ever seen cursed a masked man through the new hole in the wall, before turning to look at him.

"Do you want to live?" the man asked. "Then don't go bloody standing around in the battlefield. Constant vigilance!"

Michael scampered up again, while the man he now noticed had a peg leg and artificial eye started to bark commands to the aurors around.

"Don't they teach you maggots anything in the academy anymore? Are you trying to bring shame to the aurors? Those giants are strong, but they're stupid. Bring them down, and they don't know how to get back up real fast. Then you can take'em out real easy."

- O -

Back in Diagon Alley, the Wheezer was laying waste to the dark army that was trying to fight their way towards the Gringotts bank. Squads of aurors were consolidating their positions near the Leaky Cauldron pub, trapping the enemy in cross-fire, with more coming in.

But the Dark Lord was not yet out of tricks.

"Bogies in the air, nine o'clock!" Angelina shouted from her window, casting a shield charm to block an incoming curse. "Broomsticks and Dementors!"

Fred was cranking down the last rounds of boomjuice in the magazine towards the advancing Death Eaters when George acknowledged Angelina's shout and was already responding to the new threat.

The Wheezer had it's origins in the twins' fireworks experiments, and when the weaponized version first made it's appearance in their imagination, modified fireworks were the first choice of ammunition. Fred was barely finished relocating the Wheezer on Angelina's window when George came back with half a dozen of filled magazines.

"Budge over, brother!", he said, slamming the first one in the Wheezer and nudging Fred away from the crank. "It's my turn."

The Weasley Whizzbang Special Anti Air Ordnance had none of the finesse of the more festive fireworks of the product family. There were no whizzing noises, no fancy animated figures, no vibrant colours. Instead there was a loud bang followed by a hail of blindingly bright pellets of magnesium, burning at over three thousand degrees celsius.

The first magazine of twenty was empty in less than ten seconds as George cranked the Wheezer with reckless abandon. Screams of pain filled the air above the Alley as the fliers took hits from the burning pieces of metal. More than one broomstick was already out of control as their twigs had caught on fire, and a direct hit on one of the dementors proved that the cold guardians of Azkaban prison weren't completely immune to fire. The unholy screech of the creature when it lit up like a torch was enough to halt the fighting in the alley, until another burst of Whizzbangs flew out of the twins' window towards the fliers, re-igniting the battle.

- O -

The Room of Requirement was a mess. The camouflage hiding the prepared positions was blown asunder, and the floor was littered with fallen death eaters and broken shards of wood and metal. Voldemort was kept pinned down under his shield by ten wands, while the rest of the DA was picking up the rest of the attackers one by one. But the trolls were proving to be a tougher opponent, most spells splashing impotently against their tough skin.

"Trolls are resistant to magic," Ron shouted, and levitated a fallen bust of some long dead and forgotten wizard. "Use blunt force to knock them out!"

A banishing charm propelled the statue towards the nearest of still standing trolls, and a sickening crunch of cracking bone marked the death of the creature as polished marble proved to be stronger than it's thick skull. The gargantuan beast stumbled, it's feet not yet realizing the smashed condition of it's brain, before it ever so slowly fell down face first, crushing one of it's handlers under it's massive weight.

- O -

The situation in Godric's Hollow was dire. The sheer number of attacks, feints and counterattacks meant he aurors were scattered all over the country, and when Tonks had called for reinforcements all Amelia could spare was the remainings of a squad that had lost two of it's members in the opening assault against the Diagon Alley.

Remus and Tonks were fighting against five foreign wizards, their backs protected by the enchanted stone of the Potter memorial monument in the middle of the Village's main square.

There was no trace of the usual jovial Tonks in sight. The heart shaped face and bubblegum pink hair had been replaced by a look that betrayed the family connection to the Blacks: black hair was flowing in the wind, piercing purple eyes shining with such fire that the death eaters more familiar with Bellatrix Lestrange refused to engage her in fight. But Remus wasn't a much easier opponent. The Full moon was only hours away from rising above the horizon, and the wolf was close to the surface, urging him to fight harder to protect his pack.

Suddenly a glint of silver in the background caught Remus' attention. A guttural growl erupted from his throat as he recognized the man, his eyes taking golden hue as the wolf broke free and took over from the man, lust for vengeance replacing the more human restrictions.

"Wormtail!" he shouted, leaping forward with inhuman strength and speed, throwing the death eater he had been dueling with away with a swipe of his wand. "You have some nerve showing yourself here of all places!"

Pettigrew took one look at the charging werewolf, before turning to flee. But there was no time: before he had time to fully transform, the claws of the wolf met the soft flesh of the rat, and the animagus impacted the low stone wall surrounding the Potter cottage with enough force to crush his skull. Pettigrew slumped down, forever locked in a grotesque half-man-half-rat state.

The death eaters looked in shock at the swift demise of one of the Dark Lord's favourites, before they noticed the new situation they were in: between a furious metamorphmagus and a bloodthirsty werewolf, one that was seemingly in full control of the beast, something only Greyback was rumored to have accomplished.

- O -

Harry was worried. So far the plan was working fine, and even the unforeseen factor of the trolls had been dealt with without much trouble. But the dome-like shield Voldemort had erected around himself straight in the beginning showed no sign of breaking, even though the DA was still throwing spells at it in a steady stream

Harry could see that soon frustration at the lack of results would lead to mistakes. And one mistake would be enough for Voldemort to turn the tables and move into attack. Harry knew that could only end up badly. If only there was a way to break that shield…

Harry's eyes hardened, and his grip on his wand changed subtly as grim determination grew in his mind. There was only one thing left to do, even if it meant forgetting the original plan. "Avada Kedavra!" he bellowed over the incantations of the other students and the noise of spells impacting Voldemort's shield.

A green bolt of magic flew towards Voldemort, slicing through the shield like it wasn't there, and hit him squarely in the chest. He doubled over, the shield flickering as the concentration needed to maintain it faltered, but then, in front the disbelieving eyes of everyone, he rose back up. And laughed.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," he mocked, eerie silence hanging in the Room of Requirements as the students were looking uncertainly at each other and contemplating fleeing while they still could. "Finally falling for the temptation of the Dark Side? But too late. You clearly lack the conviction to use what is rightfully yours. Such a shame, really; you could have been a great wizard. Together we could have ruled the world."

Voldemort raised his wand. "But you made your choice. Now there is only death for you. Avada KedaAAH!"

The incantation of the killing curse was interrupted as two spells hit Voldemort from behind. A vicious blasting curse blew his wand arm apart below the elbow, while his legs were cut clean through by a fiery blade of magic. Harry looked up from his fallen nemesis, and across the clearing Neville and Daphne were standing tall, Neville's wand still smoking slightly from all the magic he had channelled through it.

Harry looked back at Voldemort, who was twitching on the ground in the middle of a growing pool of blood, trying and failing to get up with only his left arm. The original plan came back to him like a ocean wave rushing to the shore.

"Don't you dare to die on me now!" he shouted, leaping over the slightly scarred stone slab that had covered him and slowing down his descent with magic. "This time there will be no resurrection for you. Hermione, help me!"

But the bushy haired witch was already climbing down from her battlement, always one step ahead of the others. She quickly shot a couple of cauterizing spells taught by Madam Pomfrey, stopping the free flow of Voldemort's blood.

The dark lord looked pathetic, his snake-face in a rictus of pain, only the stump of one arm remaining, the other slick with his own blood as he tried to reach his fallen wand. The fallen enemy continued to glare hatefully at Harry, which played right into his plan.

"We got you now," Harry said, training his wand at his nemesis. "And this time you won't be getting back up." With a wide movement Harry whipped his wand in a half-arc before bring it back down on Voldemort. "Obliviate!" he shouted.

The spell that lept forward from Harry's wand was bright enough to force the members of the Defence Association to shield their eyes.

- O -

Narcissa stood next to her dresser, holding at a photograph of her and Lucius, taken shortly after their wedding. They were both smiling, and her hair was floating freely in the wind. She wiped the picture of her late husband with her thumb, before setting the photo back down. She took one last look over her bedroom, lingering slightly longer at the photo, and drew her wand.

Narcissa made a few experimental swishes with her wand, before starting chanting with a harsh voice. The curtains flanking the window were the first thing to catch on fire, her bed and tapestries hanging on the walls following soon after. Fiery snakes and dragons were circling Narcissa when she finished the chant, cold spring air rushing in through broken windows feeding the flames. She shook her head slowly, and apparated away.

Only squirrels and a curious owl in the nearby forest witnessed the haunting scream that echoed around the manor grounds as the last remainings of the Malfoy legacy burned down to ashes.

- O -

The situation at St. Mungo's Hospital was chaotic. Patients were coming in from all over Britain, injured aurors, civilians and death eaters came or were brought in, with occasional muggle mixed in. The receptionists had been killed by Bellatrix and her accomplices, so it fallen to Dumbledore to keep order in the lobby, taking care no one was abandoned in the chaos and that everyone was cared according to their needs. He had even personally dispelled a few more obscure curses, doing what Harry had asked and saving as many people as he could.

He had just guided a pair of aurors carrying the injured squad member when a silvery otter swam into the lobby through the wall.

"Headmaster, Voldemort has fallen. Hogwarts and the students are safe," it said to Dumbledore, loud enough for onlookers to hear too, "The war is over!"

A cheer echoed through the building as the news spread from mouth to mouth. The mood in the hospital visibly lifted as everyone continued working on their tasks with redoubled intensity.

- O -

Amelia Bones rode down towards the ministry atrium with a force of veteran aurors surrounding her. She had just received a message from Harry that Voldemort was contained, asking for an escort to the Department of Mysteries where they would throw him through the Veil of Death. Amelia had already sent two unspeakables to Hogwarts, but before she could go herself, she had to take care of the uninvited visitors contained within the atrium.

The doors of the elevator opened, and the aurors fanned out, casting patronus charms to help those already in there to contain a flock of dementors huddled in one corner of the large hall.

Amelia marched imperiously forward and addressed the dementors. "The leader of your rebellion has failed," she said. "Your rebellion has failed. Now you must either surrender and agree to return to Azkaban, never to leave the island again, or we will force you into submission and lock you down in the most miserable dark hole we can find. And by Gods I swear that I will not rest until we find a way to eradicate your wretched kin from the face of the earth if you so choose."

The tension between the dementors and the minister was palpable, until the dementors bowed their heads as one, accepting defeat.

- O -

In Diagon Alley the Weasley Wheezer had run out of ammunition, but not before all airborne enemies had been either shot down or forced to flee.

The entrance to Knockturn Alley was a mess. The flagstones on the street had been blown to pieces, one of the corner houses was burning, and the other in danger of collapsing any moment. Lolling around in the rubble was some unknown kind of green slime, born from a freak reaction between some of the Weasleys' more imaginative munition and the wares from the apothecary located in the structurally compromised building.

The battle had reached a stalemate. More aurors had arrived to fill the gap left by the Wheezer, while the Death Eaters and other thugs had retreated to the shadows of their alley, neither side willing to cross the cratered terrain and unpredictable slime to gain decisive victory.

To this war-torn scene arrived a silvery lion, it's mane billowing in ethereal wind.

"By the power vested in me by the Ministry of Magic I order you to stop the fighting," the guardian spirit said with the booming voice of Rufus Scrimgeour.

"The terrorist leader calling himself Lord Voldemort is in the custody of the Ministry. If you surrender now, you will be shown leniency until such time when fair trials can be arranged. Should you choose not to surrender, the ministry will come after you with all it's might and with extreme prejudice.

"You have one hour to find an auror to surrender yourselves to."

- O -

Only fifteen minutes had passed since Voldemort had been defeated, but the Room of Requirement was already almost unrecognizable. Bright lights illuminated the place of ambush, and aurors were securing the Death Eaters and clearing the debris left by the battle.

Harry had left a bit earlier with a pair of unspeakables taking Voldemort's barely living body with them to the ministry, and Daphne had also rushed away to make some final arrangements. Neville shook his head in amusement. She would probably be telling everyone how Harry had defeated Voldemort, again, and arranging the press to come to the victory party. Harry wouldn't like it, but he would do whatever his girl asked him to.

Various emotions were evident on the faces of the remaining students, some in shock from the violence of the battle, others trying to figure if they should celebrate or try to help the aurors. Neville turned around as someone touched his shoulder from behind.

"Yes?" he asked, "What is it, Hannah?"

The Hufflepuff nodded towards the corner where the prisoners were being held. "Bellatrix survived," she said hesitantly.

Neville looked at the downed woman with disgust. She was sitting among the blood and debris covered by a squad of aurors, cradling her brutally wounded arm against her stomach and swaying slightly. Neville could see her mouth moving silently as she stared off into nothing. The most devoted death eater was muttering incomprehensibly, not quite understanding that her master had been defeated.

"She's not worth my time" he said, shaking his head and turning Hannah away from the carnage. "Let the aurors take care of her; with the current administration she's as good as dead anyway."

"You're right," Hannah said, letting Neville guide her between the piles of broken equipment towards the exit of the room. "And I'm happy that you can be the better man."

Neville and Hannah walked in silence, greeting the aurors hurrying past them with a nod. They were about halfway to the exit when Neville suddenly stopped.

"What is it?" Hannah asked. "Did you forget something?"

Neville shook his head. "I just had a thought," he muttered. "The Power he knows not. But it can't be. Can it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Voldemort. He was obliviated, Harry obliviated him. So The Power he knows not, it can be anything, right?"

Hannah looked at Neville, not understanding what he was talking about.

"I guess… What does it mean?"

"It doesn't matter now. It's just that if it is so, Harry is going to be damn angry at Trelawney when he comes back."

"If you say so," Hannah agreed uncertainly. "Let's go down and help Daphne to get the party started. The students need someone to cheer for, and with Harry away that job falls to you."

-o0oOo0o-

A/N: And that was the final battle! Only epilogue to go, and then it's done. Many thanks for reviews, and even more to my beta Majerus, who went above and beyond the ordinary call of duty by volunteering to help me polish these last chapters with amazingly short notice.