Disclaimer: Story stuffing is not mine. Stitching only.
Last proper chapter, and a speedy update for once! I pretty much got four unexpected free days and wrote solid. Thanks so much again to everyone who reviewed last time, or is even just still reading – I'm inexpressibly glad you've stuck with me!
Many thanks to Mamacita-San for beta-ing; especially this time, for being so nice as to agree to endure my over-use of ellipses... :)
The strange pulling sensation stopped as abruptly as the snapping of a string. Harry felt as though a bomb had exploded in his stomach as his eyes met Voldemort's awful red ones, and his thoughts flew apart. Trapped – all of them – and, of course, you couldn't Apparate out of Hogwarts –
And when Harry thought things couldn't get any worse, ten, twenty, thirty dark figures emerged, from behind pillars and mounds of broken stone, from behind the corpse of the Basilisk – Death Eaters in every direction Harry looked –
"Get behind me!" yelled Harry, throwing his arms out, as he completely panicked. His wand was in his hand and he had no idea how it had got there, nor was he fully conscious of the others moving, not behind him, but around him, encircling him. "Don't move," Harry muttered feverishly. "Don't do anything yet – not yet –"
"So!" screamed Voldemort. Even though he was far above them, they could see that his eyes were livid. As though from a very long way off, Harry heard Neville give a whimper of pure terror. "So you thought you could defeat me, Potter – you – a mere boy – thought you could destroy Lord Voldemort!"
For this first time, Harry saw a gleam of gold in Voldemort's left hand – Hufflepuff's cup...his stomach gave a funny leap...
"No one can live forever!" he shouted, as his mind whirled; his scar was searing and it felt as though he and Voldemort were on a separate plane, everything around them shrouded in darkness. Harry could feel eagerness and a deep terror that he knew was not just his own. "Death will come for all of us –"
"Never," hissed Voldemort, and his voice was venom. "You are a fool, Potter, and as such you will experience the death you embrace so readily – yes, tonight! Stand back, my friends," he ordered, and the Death Eaters around them shifted. "Potter will die by my hand only, and before this night is over."
"Get down, then, and face me like a man," yelled Harry. "Or are you going to hide up there while you kill me?" Every fibre of him hoped and prayed that if Voldemort came down, he would bring the cup within Harry's reach – what then, he did not know.
Voldemort's eyes gleamed as they bored into Harry's own – though he was so far above, the distance between them seemed very little.
"Do you think I would be such a fool?" said Voldemort softly. With his left hand, while his wand hand never moved, he placed the cup onto a flattish rock just in front of him and clicked his fingers. With a roar, flames – leaping, black-purple flames – burst up round the cup, shielding it from view.
"Let me see," said Voldemort quietly. "I think you requested me to come down and face you like a man, Harry Potter?" He began to move, gliding like a dark ghost down the stone statue. "Now, tell your little guard to stand back."
The others moved closer to Harry, who said urgently, "No – listen to him –"
"Did I not make myself clear, Harry? Do you require me to kill your friends before I raise my wand against you? You have ten seconds to stand back," said Voldemort, addressing the others directly for the first time as he continued to sweep down the rock face. "Harry and I have a little matter to settle between us..."
"Go," murmured Harry, his voice shaking. "You heard what he said, go –"
"Harry, this is madness –"
"You can't – not yet –"
"The cup –"
Voldemort had reached level ground, the black flames which hid the cup flickering far above him.
"Move," said Harry, in his fear more harshly than he had intended. "No one's throwing their lives away for me this time –" He tried to push in front of Ron and Ginny, but they both shoved him roughly back.
"So be it," said Voldemort coldly. "It makes no difference." He paused, and then pointed his wand at Ginny.
"No!" cried Ron hoarsely, throwing himself in front of his sister as Lupin and Harry also surged forward to protect her.
Lupin cried, "Stupefy!" as Harry and Ron both yelled, "Protego!"
Harry felt a great jab of impatience that he did not think was his own, and another flash of pain leapt through his scar.
"Get out of my way," Voldemort snarled, and he slashed the air with his wand; the Shield Charms collapsed and Hermione gave a piercing scream as, in a crackling flash of light, Ron, Lupin, and Ginny were thrown bodily twenty feet and landed, crumpled and lifeless, on the stony floor.
"NO!" Weak with stupefied horror, seeing his own deathly white face reflected back in Voldemort's red eyes, unable to look at his friends' unmoving bodies, Harry's world began to spin. "No..." he croaked. "Not them..." Dizzy and light-headed, he felt himself stumble, and from behind him came quiet but heart-wrenching sobs – Hermione...
"Hold the others," said Voldemort indifferently, in his high, cruel voice. "If they struggle, kill them."
Harry straightened up slowly, agonisingly – he could not comprehend that they could be gone, like Sirius, like Dumbledore – not Ginny and Lupin...not Ron...unless they were still alive – Voldemort had not used the Killing Curse – but his mind was screaming and he was sick to his stomach, and he felt as though something deep within him had died, too... Harry heard, through the roaring in his ears, Death Eaters move forward and drag Hermione and Neville away from him. He was on his own...the low laughter of the Death Eaters was all around him as he stood in the centre of that great stone hall...
"Watch carefully," Voldemort told his Death Eaters, who listened with rapt attention. "Watch as I kill Harry Potter, and remember what happens to those who dare defy Lord Voldemort."
"What goes around comes around," croaked Harry suddenly, swallowing painfully. But his voice was shaking and his threat sounded hollow even to him.
"Do not toy with me, Harry Potter," said Voldemort coldly. "You think I cannot read your mind? You do not know how to kill, you have never even said the words of the Killing Curse – and you know very well what lies within those flames up there, tethering me to eternal life –"
"Yeah, I know," said Harry, hardly knowing what he was saying; he only knew that the raw and aching pain within him was beginning to turn to murderous grief. "But what if I kill you here and then smash up your precious Horcrux? Then where will you be?" He had spoken without even thinking; but as the words left his lips, he realised their possible truth with a jolt.
Voldemort evidently had, too, for his pupils suddenly contracted and Harry felt a flash of the other wizard's fear in the pit of his stomach. And Voldemort finally moved forward, quick and deadly, like a serpent.
"Avada –"
But Harry had been waiting, every muscle taut, for the Killing Curse, and as soon as Voldemort's mouth began to shape the fatal words, Harry yelled with all his might, "Expelliarmus!"
It was his lifeline – it had worked before – and his heart gave a dull leap as the green light met the red and the wands connected as they had done three years previously.
"No!" shrieked Voldemort as they began to rise into the air and the golden threads of light started to spring up all around them. "Not again –" And he wrenched his wand just as a huge, bright bead of light touched it. The half-formed dome splintered and Harry and Voldemort were thrown, several metres apart, to the floor, the light and faint musical song vanishing in an instant.
Harry landed not three feet away from Lupin and for a second found himself staring at the werewolf's pale, deathly face. Lupin was not breathing, and Harry felt another gut-wrenching pain shoot through him. He could not even look at Ron and Ginny.
"No!" Harry heard Voldemort hiss, and he felt another jolt of horror not his own. Harry scrambled to his feet and turned, but Voldemort was not looking at him. He was staring at his wand, which he held in both hands – a mess of splintered yew wood and crimson phoenix feather. Harry realised it must have shattered when Voldemort had broken the connection between the wands; and Voldemort's face showed his utter shock and dismay.
"My Lord!" called a voice. "Take this one!" It was the Death Eater beside the one holding Neville. He wrenched Neville's wand away from his fiercely resisting fingertips and began to walk toward his master, who slowly stretched out his white-fingered hand, still staring down at his broken wand. Then Harry came to his senses. Voldemort was yet unarmed; what was he doing, lying here – was he going to let his friends fall for nothing?
Harry raised his wand and bellowed, "TERRA LEVOTUM!"
He put every ounce of his strength, all his grief and pain and fury, into the spell – a spell which Ron had found only yesterday on one of the Black family library books – and the ground erupted under his and Voldemort's feet with a power that completely shocked him. The floor cracked and rumbled, then shot upward in a great mass of heaving stone and falling rock. The Death Eaters yelled and surged backwards, and Harry felt another wave of pain as he glimpsed Ron, Ginny, and Lupin's bodies being lifted and thrown even further by the force of the eruption. He and Voldemort both fell again as they were propelled upward, thrown about by the shifting rock. When the stones finally rumbled to a shuddering halt, they found themselves fifty feet above the Death Eaters, on separate sides of the great rocky mountain, and Harry saw with a jolt that the black flames wreathing Hufflepuff's cup were only a dozen feet above his head.
"Ahh..." Harry gasped as suddenly an intense, itching pain erupted all over his body. The heat radiating from the shining black-purple flames had struck him, and, horrified, Harry saw his skin begin to crumple and burn as though it were being eaten away. Blindly, he half-scrambled, half-fell down the rock until the heat from the flames no longer reached him and his flesh stopped crawling with pain. Panting and sweating, he felt the skin on his arms and face – it was not too badly damaged, but tender and painful.
"Yes...it will dissolve the flesh when you get too near," said a quiet voice, and Voldemort appeared around the side of the mountain of broken stone, several metres away. "It cannot be reached, not even if you cover yourself with the strongest protective spells known to wizards – so you see, Harry? Destroying my body would be futile, for I would only return once more."
But Harry barely heard, or noticed as Voldemort began to climb with ease and clear intent over the rocks toward him; for he was staring at something that lay within inches of his left hand, half hidden in the shadow of a jagged stone. A crumpled scarlet feather and a dozen pieces of dark, splintered wood. Hardly knowing what he was doing, Harry stretched out his hand towards the remains of Voldemort's wand and picked up the ruby-red feather. It vibrated in his hand, moving on its own; it twisted and unfurled into a magnificent scarlet plume. From a very long way off, Harry thought he could hear phoenix song.
"I do not need a wand to kill you, Harry Potter," hissed Voldemort's voice, suddenly above him, and Harry's head jerked up to see Voldemort standing not three feet away. He raised his wand in a flash, but Voldemort was quicker; the elder wizard made a sweeping movement with his hands and raw magic surged forth. Harry found himself flying off the mountain of rock, tossed as easily as a bird in a storm, and spinning down toward the stone floor fifty feet below. His heart seemed to freeze with terror as he fell and the breath was dragged from his lungs; but the phoenix feather he still grasped was vibrating harder, moving in Harry's hand as though it were alive, and the distant song was growing louder. Even as Harry plummeted, yelling, he felt the feather writhe, red-hot, in his hand...
And then, in a rush of scarlet and gold flame, Fawkes the phoenix materialised beneath Harry's flailing body and he was clinging to the warm and living bird; and he was rising again, and they were circling the Chamber in a great blaze of fire.
"Fawkes?" choked Harry, head spinning as he drew a great, shuddering breath of amazement and relief. The phoenix's great scarlet wings were spread on either side of him, and the plumed head with its long golden bill was held high in front of his eyes as they rose higher and higher to the very top of the cavernous Chamber...and Harry thought he heard, far below him, a scream of rage from Voldemort. Jets of green light flashed around them as the Death Eaters below aimed their curses at Fawkes, but the phoenix swooped round them with ease and glided down again, toward the colossal statue of Salazar Slytherin. Then the jets of green light stopped abruptly, and Harry thought he heard distant yells; but though he craned to see what was happening below, all was confusion and darkness.
Fawkes landed on Slytherin's stone head, sliding into a crevice: one of the sweeping folds of granite hair. Harry slipped off and stared at the beautiful bird with gratitude deeper than he had ever felt before. The bird's bright eyes seemed to slightly soothe the dry, raw ache in him that had been there since he stared at his friends' lifeless bodies.
"That's the second time you've saved my life in here, Fawkes," he said, with a painful lump in his throat. The phoenix dipped his head so that his plumes bobbed and gave a low, musical call, then with a rush of wings took off again into the air. He swooped downwards, and Harry, unable to see where he had gone, had no idea what was going on; he heard shouts below, and from his hiding place behind a huge, curling lock of hair he spied Voldemort staring upward with fury and fear in his eyes.
"No!" Voldemort howled once again, and raised his hands. Harry saw Fawkes rise up again with a screech, and his stomach gave a funny jerk – the phoenix was gripping Hufflepuff's cup in his great golden claws, his feathers entirely undamaged by the flesh-eating flames.
"Fawkes!" yelled Harry. "You got through the fire!" He was filled with a sudden wild hope, and his heart began to beat painfully fast. But the distant shouts were getting louder; Fawkes was beating his wings hard and getting nowhere; he was falling. Magic was pouring from Voldemort's outstretched hands, magic so powerful that as it pulsed through the air toward Fawkes it lifted all the hairs on Harry's head and made his skin crawl. It was a battle between the magical bird and Voldemort, and Fawkes was struggling, losing height. Harry pointed his own wand at Voldemort and from his hiding place bellowed the spell that for some reason leapt first to his mind: "Expecto Patronum!"
The silver stag exploded from his wand with more force than ever before, so much that Harry staggered. He did not understand why it was so powerful, for he was anything but happy; but his fear and grief and love for Ron, Ginny, and Lupin had been forefront in his mind as he cast the spell, and now the great stag charged through the air toward Voldemort in a dazzling burst of light. Voldemort stumbled; the force of the stag's charge lifted him off his feet, and Harry glimpsed him tumbling and slipping down the mountain of crumbled rock. Fawkes, released from the power that had been dragging him down, soared up once more, up above Harry's head; and the magnificent bird released his grip on the golden cup. The goblet fell, turning over and over through the air, toward Harry, who caught it, amazed. He was hardly able to believe it as he convulsively gripped the last Horcrux – which was icy cold – in his hands.
"Thank you, Fawkes, thank you!" he shouted to the blaze of scarlet and gold feathers above him, and Fawkes opened his beak to pour forth a gush of phoenix song; it seemed to fill Harry with warmth and strength. He knew what he had to do. Shoving the Horcrux into his coat pocket, he threw the Invisibility Cloak over himself and began a slithering descent down the gigantic statue. As he jumped onto the tip of Slytherin's giant ear he saw Fawkes swoop downward and out of sight once more.
Voldemort was still fighting off his Patronus, Harry realised as he scrambled downward; and as he reached Slytherin's neck he could finally see what was going on fifty feet below, and what all the shouting was about. As he looked downward to the tiny people far below, his mouth dropped open. The Death Eaters were in full battle against – Harry screwed up his eyes and squinted – could it be?
A rush of amazement flooded through Harry's entire body as he distinguished some of those fighting the dark figures of the Death Eaters: both teachers and members of the Order of the phoenix, and – Harry suddenly went dizzy, as his heart blazed with a joy so acute it was painful – Lupin and Ginny, yes, and Ron, were among the fighters! At least – Harry screwed up his eyes – not fighting, but being pulled to their feet by Hermione and Neville. Fawkes was circling them, his wings trailing fire, and they were straightening up slowly, as though waking from a very deep sleep. A dark figure shot a curse in their direction, but the jet of red light was swallowed by the phoenix fire...they were safe... Absolutely bursting with relief and happiness, and too intent on watching his friends joyfully to pay heed to where he was going, Harry missed his footing and tumbled about a dozen feet down Slytherin's great stone sleeve. Catching himself before he slithered right off the statue, Harry pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes and, suddenly laughing madly despite the seriousness of his situation, began to propel himself downward with even greater determination and a new hope.
The silver stag had shone even brighter when Harry had spotted Ron and Ginny and Lupin on their feet, and Voldemort was actually clinging to the mountain of stone to avoid being thrown off the rock face altogether. But eventually, with an obvious effort, the wizard let go of the stone with one hand. A ball of what seemed to be pure darkness began to blossom in his palm, then another, and the rolling black spheres hurled themselves at the stag; Harry's Patronus shivered and began, slowly, to fade. Harry, under the Cloak, slithered downwards faster and faster; when he reached Slytherin's huge foot he jumped the last eight or nine feet. He landed heavily on the stony floor and paused a moment to get used to being on level ground once more. The fight was blazing around him; he ran flat out, invisible, around the dozens of fiercely-duelling figures, heading toward the far side of the Chamber where he had seen Ron and the others.
He passed Fleur, who was engaged in a one-on-one battle with Narcissa Malfoy; he ducked under the arm of Rodolphus Lestrange who, to Harry's great surprise, was duelling Snape; he saw Hagrid bring one giant fist smashing into an unknown Death Eater's face, and Fred and George shooting hexes at Amycus Carrow; he ran past Mr and Mrs Weasley, Professors Flitwick, Sinistra, and Slughorn, Bellatrix Lestrange, Draco Malfoy and Fenrir Greyback, Kingsley Shacklebolt...he even saw Moaning Myrtle swooping mournfully over the heads of the fighters...bodies were on the floor, too, but he did not look at them, did not want to see their faces...
Finally Harry glimpsed Neville and Hermione fighting a single Death Eater, trying to drive him away from Ron, Ginny, and Lupin. As he ran closer he saw that they looked half-dead and were having trouble even defending themselves. Fawkes had disappeared. From behind, Harry pointed his wand at the back of the Death Eater's head – duelling etiquette entirely forgotten – and bellowed, "Stupefy!"
The Death Eater – Harry recognised him as Yaxley – crumpled, and Hermione and Neville looked bewildered, staring around for their saviour. Harry stumbled forward, inexpressibly glad to find himself amongst them once more – the hour that had passed since he had first believed three of them dead had been hell – and said as loudly as he dared, "Don't worry, it's me."
"Harry?" squeaked Hermione, who was very white. But Harry hardly heard; the first thing he did was walk past her to pull Ron, Ginny, and Lupin each into a brief, warm embrace.
"Harry..." breathed Ginny faintly.
"Don't talk," said Harry firmly, alarmed to see how pale she was. He tugged them all behind a huge stone pillar that hid them entirely, and pushed the Cloak off his head.
"Oh, Harry, we can't do this," said Hermione, half-sobbing when she saw him. Her eyes were wild and she was supporting Ron, who had sunk onto her arm, with difficulty. "We need the cup or Voldemort's still invincible, and Ron and Ginny and Remus are going to need to get out of here soon –"
"Yes to your second point," said Harry quickly, glancing at Ginny, who had sunk back to the floor, looking like death, and at Ron, who was only standing because half his weight was on Hermione's arm. Lupin, after Harry had let go of him, had leant against the pillar, eyes closed and hands gripping the stone behind him for support. "How did they survive?" he whispered.
Hermione just shook her head, tears in her eyes, but Neville said hoarsely, "Fawkes – he flew over them and started singing and they moved...they can't've died before, but I dunno if they would've woken up if...but Harry, Fawkes got hit by Yaxley's curse – here –" Neville scooped a tiny, wrinkled bird out of his pocket. The baby Fawkes gave a faint chirp.
"Will they – will they die now without the phoenix song?" Hermione whispered suddenly, her eyes shining with tears.
"I don't know," said Harry, swallowing; then his scar – which had been throbbing almost continually – suddenly flashed with pain. He realised that Voldemort, unable to see him, was probing for his mind, seeking desperately for the one he knew held his Horcrux...
"Hermione – I need to move," he said quickly. "Take this –"
Hermione gasped as Harry shoved Hufflepuff's cup into her fumbling hands.
"You got it – but how –"
"Is Bill here?" Harry interrupted, trying to ignore the mounting pain in his head.
"Y-yes, he came with the others –"
"Find him," he said quickly. "Neville, go with her, okay? Bill knows how to destroy Horcruxes and I haven't got a clue. But whatever you do, don't lose it and don't let anyone know you've got it! Here – take this –" He pulled off the Cloak and pushed it into Neville's hands.
"But you need it!" said Hermione, looking shocked.
"He'll find me anyway," said Harry urgently, his hands pressed over his burning scar. He could feel Voldemort searching for him, knew that he was getting closer. "I need to distract him so he doesn't find the Cup. Now get going – find Bill – I'll take care of the others."
"Here," said Hermione, rapping him sharply on the head with her wand, and Harry felt the familiar trickling sensation that told him he had just been Disillusioned. Looking down at himself he saw a patchy, half-visible version of himself. "It's not perfect," said Hermione, biting her lip. "I've never actually tried one before – but it'll help."
"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry, genuinely grateful. "Now, get going –"
"We'll do it, Harry," said Neville suddenly, pushing the baby Fawkes back into his pocket. "Count on us!"
Harry took Ron's weight off Hermione's shoulder – he had fainted completely – and watched as Neville and Hermione disappeared beneath the Cloak and headed off into the fray.
Then he turned. Lupin seemed the most conscious of the three, and Harry spoke quickly to him. "Remus, can you –" but his words died on his lips as Lupin's eyes suddenly snapped open. His pupils had dilated, and it seemed that every muscle in his body had tautened.
"Remus!" yelled Harry, dragging Ron away in shock and terror as Lupin doubled up and began to snarl. And Hermione's earlier words rang through his mind: It's full moon tonight...are you sure that's not what's making you feel bad?
"But not now!" cried Harry stupidly, as he panicked, and with every ounce of strength in his body, he wrenched Ron backwards, looking frantically for a safe place to put him; but he didn't have time – Ginny was still in danger – and finally he pushed Ron into the coils of the dead Basilisk, which at least afforded some protection. Then he ran, flat-out, back to Ginny; she had staggered to her feet out of pure terror and was stumbling toward him, white to the lips.
Lupin had fully transformed; he howled, and the sound seemed to echo all over the Chamber. Harry led Ginny frantically over to the Basilisk's corpse and pushed her down beside Ron.
"Play dead," he said to her urgently. "Please, for all our sakes!" Then he stood up, raking the scene before him with his eyes.
Lupin, he realised with relief, had pounded off away from Ron and Ginny and into the middle of the fight; but he was not the only one. Harry went cold as he realised there were six, seven, eight other werewolves amongst the fighters. Screams reverberated through the air as Death Eaters, Order members, and Hogwarts teachers alike began to break up their fights and instead fend off the huge, leaping, snarling beasts; Stunning spells were having no effect. Harry saw that the werewolves were in a frenzy – excited, no doubt, by the scent of so much human blood. Then dark figures began breaking away and running for the exit; Harry realised that all the Death Eaters still standing were fleeing for their lives, leaving the Order members and teachers to fight the beasts alone; and as Harry followed them with his eyes, he saw Bill on the other side of the Chamber. The half-werewolf had not transformed, but seemed to be listening intently to nothing at all. Then Harry glimpsed a gleam of gold, and realised that Bill had been given the golden cup by an invisible Hermione. Incautiously he stood on tiptoe, straining to see what Bill would do with it. The eldest Weasley glanced round, backed quickly away from the main fighting, threw up a protective shield, and began passing his wand two and fro over the cup, which began to glow...
Harry's scar suddenly blazed, and he yelled in pain. As though through a mist he saw Voldemort, still standing on the rock mountain – he had found Harry, even through Hermione's shaky Disillusionment Charm. Their eyes met and Voldemort gave a howl that matched those of the furious werewolves.
Harry instantly raised his wand. You have the advantage, he told himself; Voldemort isn't even armed. And he threw himself into full view, pointed his wand directly at Voldemort, and bellowed the most powerful spell he knew how to do, the one Hermione had found all those months ago.
"PYRASHIO!"
The waves of fire that thundered from his wand nearly knocked Harry off his feet again, and he backed up against the Basilisk skin for support; then he saw what Voldemort was doing and scrambled desperately over it, sliding down again beside Ron and Ginny. The explosion of fire was being stopped, controlled, and changed by Voldemort into fiery serpents, which began to writhe their way through the air toward them.
"Protego!" Harry yelled as he flattened himself against the stone floor, and the invisible shield which had expanded over the three of them hissed and shuddered as the fire-snakes slithered over it; but with nothing to burn, they began to fade into smoke.
"I can't do this," he said wildly to himself. "I'm not strong enough – he hasn't even got a wand and still –"
"Keep going, Harry," murmured Ginny thickly. "You're doing brilliantly...and we'll come, as soon as we can..."
Harry's head jerked round and her met her gaze; Ginny's eyes were open again. She had her hands pressed to her head and her colour was returning.
"Are you –?"
"Healing..." muttered Ginny. "We'll be all right – keep fighting – I really love you, Harry..."
The lump had returned to Harry's throat. He leant over and kissed her cheek, then stood up with fresh determination.
Voldemort was making his way down the rocky mountain, sweeping down abnormally quickly; but he still had at least thirty feet to go. Harry felt a surge of boiling hot fury that was not his own and realised that Voldemort was no longer looking at him – he was gazing across the Chamber where Bill Weasley stood. Harry froze, horrified, but it was too late; Voldemort gave a chilling scream and stretched out both his hands. Once again magic poured from them, rushing a hundred feet over the fighters' heads. Bill looked up and Harry saw his mouth fall open just before he was flung backwards into the wall to slip, senseless, to the floor. The Horcrux rolled across the floor, still glowing – and then it vanished.
Harry stared, horrified, then realised: Hermione and Neville, under the Cloak. He prayed that Voldemort would not be able to find them...
And then Harry heard a high-pitched scream of terror.
"Hermione?"
He froze as he saw her running, the Cloak falling off, across the Chamber toward him. The were no Death Eaters left – all those still standing had run from the werewolves – and eight of the nine monsters had been or were being subdued by the remaining fighters, bound in heavy silver manacles, and lay writhing and snarling on the floor. But Hermione was pursued by the ninth, a huge beast nearly twice the size of Lupin in wolf form, and the monster was gaining on her fast.
"Hermione!" yelled Harry again, sending a desperate Stunner at the werewolf – but it only bounced harmlessly off – and then Hermione stumbled.
Harry did not stop to think. As the werewolf bore down on Hermione, Harry threw himself over the Basilisk skin and began to run full-tilt toward her. She was only a few feet away from him...but then he heard Voldemort scream again, and this time it was Harry who was thrown off his feet; he flew through the air to land with a rude thump on the floor twenty feet away. Leaping to his feet instantly, he saw that Voldemort had reached the base of the rocky mountain and was advancing rapidly toward Hermione; she was writhing under the werewolf, which pinned her to the ground. The beast lunged for her face just as Harry again threw himself toward her – then it howled. And what a howl! Harry skidded to a halt. The werewolf had let loose a snarling, gurgling, choked scream. It lifted his head, clawing at its own face, and Hermione wriggled out from beneath its claws just as Harry realised that Hufflepuff's cup was jammed tightly in its jaws. The Horcrux seemed to be melting.
Voldemort let out an unearthly screech of fury and Harry's scar exploded with pain – half-blind and staggering, he saw Voldemort stumble as though struck by intolerable pain. There was a bang and the werewolf flew backward head over heels; Voldemort had recovered enough to send it flying. But it was too late: the Horcrux was dissolving and coating the werewolf's jaws with hot, smoking gold, which trickled down its throat. The beast gave a gurgling cry and collapsed, evidently dying; then it rolled over and began to transform back into a man – suddenly Fenrir Greyback, face bloodied and splashed with burning gold, was lying before them, writhing and screaming...then blood began to pour from his mouth, mixing with the molten gold, and Greyback shuddered and jerked before his head fell to the floor – he was dead.
Then the pain receded from Harry's scar; straightening up, he realised with a thrill of fear that Voldemort was staring at Hermione with murder in his eyes. For the third time Harry pelted to Hermione's side, just as Voldemort clicked his fingers; a thin, blond Death Eater lay senseless in his path, and the man's wand flew into Voldemort's hand.
Voldemort pointed it directly at Hermione, fury in every line of his face. She raised her own wand, white-faced, just as Harry reached her.
Voldemort spoke, with raw menace in his voice. "Avada Kedavra!"
Harry threw himself bodily in front of Hermione and yelled, "Protego!" The jet of green light reached him, encased them – his Shield Charm juddered and smashed, and the green light faded. But Harry was alive, and panting hard with fear and disbelief. Why was he still alive?
Voldemort did not raise his wand again; he was staring at Harry with more than just fear in his eyes. Both of them knew that a simple Shield Charm had never before been enough to protect from the Killing Curse; Hermione, too, was looking stunned.
"Stay away from her," said Harry, still in a state of shock, but slowly getting his shaking nerves under control. He pushed Hermione back warningly as she tried to stand.
Voldemort's eyes bore into Harry's. "What is it about you, Harry Potter?" he hissed venomously. "But you have irked me long enough –"
"You saw what just happened," said Harry slowly. He felt oddly buoyant. "You Killing Curse won't work against me. And you" – he looked at Voldemort in wondering realisation – "you are just as mortal as I am."
He walked toward Voldemort, closing the gap between them and seeing the terror in his enemy's eyes. Now that he and Voldemort were so close again Harry suddenly felt, strangely, that his panic was gone. All that was left was cold resolution. They began to pace, measuring each other up.
"Harry!" It was Mrs Weasley's voice, but Harry did not dare turn or take his eyes off Voldemort's wand. Stay away, he prayed, don't come any closer!
But the others had noticed now, and Harry heard running footsteps as others began to come to his aid –
"Stay back!" he yelled finally in desperation, just as Voldemort flicked the wand he had taken from the Death Eater. A huge, completely transparent dome formed above their heads, enclosing only the two of them and the Basilisk corpse just behind Harry, and flinging Hermione and the dead Greyback aside; the witches and wizards outside halted, shouting, but their voices reached Harry as though from very far away. Now he was alone again.
"No...just you and me now, Harry," said Voldemort quietly. "Your friends aren't coming to save you this time."
"Are you going to try to kill me, Tom?" Harry asked equally softly, as he raised his wand in defence. He realised now that he was not afraid; a strange idea had begun to form in his mind. It was an idea that he felt had perhaps been lying dormant for years and had only awoken now, when his Shield Charm had worked against the most powerful dark wizard in the world...
Voldemort's eyes glittered. "You dare," he breathed. "You dare to call me – but it matters not, now that you are about to die. You have been lucky so far, Harry Potter, but now you have no friends, no pet bird to protect you; a rather new situation, I think..."
Then Harry realised, and he couldn't help it – his mind flashed to Ron, lying half-dead in the Basilisk's coils, and Ginny, only slowly recovering.
Voldemort's mouth curved into a smile.
"Not so alone, then, I see!" And while his wand hand never moved, his eyes flicked to the Basilisk skin, less than three feet away, and Harry thought he heard Ron's ragged breathing.
"Don't touch them," he said boldly, though his heart pumped with fear. "They've nothing to do with you." He kept his wand trained on Voldemort's chest as they continued to pace, each taut and expecting the other to move at any minute.
"Indeed," said Voldemort. "But they have everything to do with you, Harry – these friends you cannot live without."
"Hurt them again," said Harry, breathing hard, "and I think I will be able to do the Killing Curse, no problem."
Again Voldemort smiled. "So Harry Potter is not so pure after all," he breathed. "Why don't you embrace your dark side, Harry? Would you not like to feel no pain when those you love are gone? For there is only self, that is all that matters, and once you have learnt that lesson –"
"I would become a soulless, inhuman wizard like you," said Harry. "Yeah, somehow that doesn't really attract me, you know?"
"Fool," said Voldemort again, very quietly. "You think yourself brave, yes, and powerful, because you have escaped me again and again – but as I say, your luck cannot last forever."
They stopped pacing, and simply stood facing one another, not six metres apart. Neither of them broke the other's gaze.
"You know what?" said Harry suddenly, as the truth of Voldemort's words sunk in, and his budding idea came into full bloom. "I'm not so sure."
Voldemort's eyes narrowed, but he waited.
"Luck, you say," said Harry, speaking very fast, and thinking rapidly. "Yes, you're right – I'm nothing special; I'm young, I haven't got half your skill or power...but I've survived, again and again."
"You have been exceptionally fortunate," said Voldemort coldly.
"I don't think so," said Harry slowly. "Why does my Shield Charm protect me against the Killing Curse, which is known to be unstoppable? No – I don't believe you can kill me, Riddle."
Eyes glittering, Voldemort looked ready to prove him wrong there and then, and Harry went on quickly. "You can't kill me for exactly the same reason you couldn't when I was only a kid: my mum's protection still flows in my veins."
"And I took your blood," hissed Voldemort vehemently. "It flows in mine also –"
"Exactly," said Harry, speaking with sudden authority; he felt sure, somehow, that his guess was right. "But does that mean the protection was broken? No; we are both kept safe by my mother's sacrifice – neither of us can kill the other. Luck has very little to do with it at all..."
"No!" screamed Voldemort, his face twisting in anger and fear; his reaction startled even Harry. The dome they were encased in quivered and then shattered in a burst of light, and Voldemort seemed hardly to notice. "No," repeated, advancing towards Harry. "I will not listen to your lies, Harry Potter – and I will laugh when you lie dead at my feet."
"But do you dare?" said Harry, standing his ground, and Voldemort halted. "For how can you know what will happen if the Killing Curse touches me? And this time, you are weak – you are mortal."
And, hardly daring to think about what he was doing, Harry spread his arms wide, leaving himself unprotected.
"Harry, no!" croaked a hoarse voice behind him, and Harry realised that Ron had emerged from the Basilisk's coils.
"Ron, get back," he said firmly, not taking his eyes off Voldemort, and he heard Ron's footsteps stumble to a reluctant halt. "Stay back, all of you!" he shouted to the spectators, some of whom were pressing forward to help him now that the dome had shattered. "This is my fight now. Will you kill me, Riddle?" he added quietly, knowing that Voldemort was delving into his mind, seeking any sign that Harry was lying. Harry made no attempt to shield his thoughts; he had nothing to hide.
Still Voldemort did not attack; Harry, gazing back at him, saw the fear and doubt in his enemy's eyes, saw his wand hand tremble very slightly. And Harry knew that Voldemort did not dare touch him for fear of history repeating itself...and so they simply stood there, for what seemed like an age, staring into each other's pale faces in a stupor of indecision.
Then a terrible crashing of iron and stone and a furious snarling sound broke the spell; Harry whirled around. What he saw made him freeze again and several people screamed; a werewolf had broken free from his chains and was pounding towards them, the heavy manacles which had bound it still dangling, clanking, from its hind feet.
Harry leapt back, yelling "Protego!" but he was safe – it was not going for him – its great, fierce eyes were fixed directly on Voldemort.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Even as it leapt, teeth bared, for Voldemort's throat, the jet of green light issuing from the wand Voldemort held smashed straight into the werewolf's side; it rolled over in the air, still snarling...and then, as the werewolf hit the ground, clearly dead, it began to transform. The fur shrank into its motionless body, the fangs and claws retracted, the snout flattened; and Harry found himself staring for the second time that night at Lupin's pale, human, and motionless face.
This time he held no hope for revival; he had seen the emerald light and heard the curse. Harry turned slowly to face Voldemort with pure hatred coursing through his veins and a red mist rising in his brain. But Voldemort saw his intention and flicked his wand almost casually; Harry's own wand went spinning out of his hand and he froze, gazing at his enemy in a kind of furious, helpless trance.
"You will die, Harry Potter," said Voldemort, whose eyes were gleaming fanatically. "Yes, like your filthy werewolf friend, like your foolish parents – you are right, I cannot use the Killing Curse on you – but I do not see how crushing you to death will harm me!"
Without a wand, Harry couldn't even protect himself – he threw himself to one side just as Voldemort brought his wand down as though he were pounding a hammer on an anvil. But it was no good – Harry fell, yelling, as he felt an enormous weight pushing him into the floor, squeezing the air from his lungs, pressing down on his limbs till they must break, crushing his entire body...surely he would die, for a black haze was rising before his eyes... Then, distantly, through the roaring in his ears, he heard shouts that were not his own and he felt Ron throw himself down beside him, and push something roughly into his hand – Harry's own wand, growing suddenly warm and waxy in his hand.
Through the mist of pain and the growing darkness Harry looked up and met Voldemort's eyes; the wizard increased the pressure, furious at Ron's interference, and tried to force Harry's wand arm down. But slowly, agonisingly, Harry lifted the wand; it took a stupendous effort. And he could think of only one way to force Voldemort to release him; reminded, perhaps, by the sight of Lupin, and the memory of his warning...but he had no choice. Summoning the last bit of strength in his body, Harry choked the spell he had learned from that strange, green-bound book, Possessed.
"Agonus Anima..."
He felt some part of himself travel the distance between him and Voldemort in a flash, and suddenly he was seeing through Voldemort's eyes, seeing himself lying on the stone floor, and for a second fear filled him; he could see his scar, glowing green, and a bright green thread of light issuing from it into Voldemort's own body...they were connected, and Voldemort was suddenly screaming in pain. Harry felt a relief from far away as the awful pressure lifted from his body and he could breathe again. He found himself grappling with Voldemort's mind, a dark and filmy mass, yielding nothing...and he slid past it, delving deeper and deeper... Voldemort fell to his knees, trying to throw Harry out of his body, but Harry resisted with all his might.
You will enter a void, the book had said; and there you will sense the soul...seek it, find it, envelop it...
The sounds of the outside world were but a muffled howl; Harry could no longer see through Voldemort's eyes, for he had gone too deep...all around him was darkness and fear, and then he saw it, black as night, and mutilated: a ragged shard of pure darkness, gossamer-thin and twisting as though in intense pain. Harry directed his thoughts toward it and felt Voldemort contort in agony as he bore down upon the shard of soul. He wrapped his thoughts around the struggling, warped soul-piece and began to crush it. But it was difficult, and Harry was fatigued; he could feel his strength draining away as he fought to suffocate the last of Voldemort's soul, and he could feel its owner struggling, fighting...
Perhaps he was not strong enough; Harry was weakening, grappling with the soul-piece with his mind – mutilated as it was, it was still powerful, and fought to evade his grip – and he felt Voldemort begin to straighten up, felt him begin to wrestle with Harry's presence again. The darkness began to flicker, and Harry realised he could see again, still through Voldemort's eyes, could see his own body lying as though dead on the floor. Horrified that he was losing control, Harry fought back but could feel himself being forced, slowly but surely, out of Voldemort's body.
"Hold on, Harry..."
The words came from very, very far away, sounding deep and distorted...they reached Harry slowly, one by one...hold on, Harry...it was Hermione shouting, he could see her now – and he could see Lupin's pale and motionless form lying not too far from his own – and Ron and Ginny shouting too. A new resolution slowly began to rise deep within him. And the shouting continued:
"Keep going, Harry..."
"We're all here, Harry..."
"Harry, hold on..."
They were all shouting – hold on – memories of his parents, smoky-grey and insubstantial, saying the same thing three years ago, filled Harry with warmth and new strength – and his heart swelled with gratitude for the people he loved, all shouting encouragement at him as he plunged once more.
Voldemort shuddered – he screamed again in agony – and Harry pushed into the depths, enveloped by darkness again. There was the struggling soul-piece, and Harry bore down upon it again with the full strength of his own soul. It flailed and weakened, and Harry heard, or thought he heard, still more shouting. It seemed to come to him from many miles away. "We're behind you, Harry – hold on –" And he thought it was his father's voice, and then his mother's – or was it Sirius?
And then, at last, as Harry bent his entire strength upon crushing it, more focused than he had ever been on anything in his entire life, the soul-piece shuddered – it gave one last wrenching judder of resistance – and then, in a shattering burst of darkness, it exploded.
Harry found himself flying out of Voldemort's body and back into his own. He gave a rattling gasp and pushed his torso off the ground with weak and shaking arms, looking up.
What he saw made him dizzy with wonder and blank shock; he hardly heard the rising tumult of screams and cheers and yells around him, the whirling of colour, the blurred forms of warm, familiar people lifting him to his feet and pulling him into strong and loving embraces, and kissing his hair, his face, his clothes – he, Harry, hardly felt any of this.
He barely realised that Ron and Ginny and Hermione were hugging him and Neville was thumping him on the back; his weary mind only dimly registered that all around him people were laughing and weeping, and that hosts of the silvery Hogwarts ghosts had appeared through the ceiling and were cheering too; his bewildered eyes and fatigued mind could only see one thing. For not too far away from him, Lord Voldemort was lying sprawled on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the Chamber of Secrets with wide, dull eyes; eyes that were no longer red, no longer evil, but dark, and human; and lifeless.
And there you have it. As my beta Mamacita-San said, 'ding, dong, the Dark Lord's dead!'
But it's not quite over (I could hardly leave it hanging there!) – you will find out in the Epilogue what happened in the rest of the battle, so hopefully I won't leave too many questions unanswered. If you especially want to know the fate I have planned for any particular character, let me know and I will make sure I include it if I can.
And, of course – please review!
