Author's note: I'm so sorry for keeping you all waiting. I've come back to give this an ending. Anyway, this is the last chapter, which I'm sure you've already realised by the title. There'll be an epilogue, but the story ends here. :)

Story's Final Chapter

Harry was curled up on the sofa, hands cupping a mug of hot chocolate. He glanced outside. The sun was beginning to go down and the sky was darkening. Professor McGonagall had picked a good hideaway: a modest hut on the edge of Scotland in the middle of nowhere.

He had never even realised that McGonagall had anywhere to go that Dumbledore didn't know. At least he guessed he would not have to worry about Dumbledore or Grindelwald for a while if he was lucky.

McGonagall poured herself a cup of tea, and she came to join him. She sat down next to him and took his hands. Harry felt mildly uncomfortable at the touch. Tom almost never initiated contact, and whenever Voldemort did, it was designed to intimidate.

"Harry," she began slowly, "you have a choice. You understand that, don't you? This is your life, and you don't have to be in the middle of this war. God knows the battlefield is the worst place for a child to grown up."

Harry tilted his head at her.

Did she really think he had not thought about throwing his hands up and ditching everything?

"I can't."

She shook her head. "You can. You always have a choice."

"Professor, I really don't," Harry said. "I'm a Horcrux, Voldemort's Horcrux. I'm carrying a piece of his soul. You know him, Professor. He would never let a piece of his soul run around free."

"Take V-Voldemort out of the equation," McGonagall said insistently, faltering slightly at his name. "If he didn't exist, what would you do, Harry? What would you do with your life? Imagine that you are a Muggle, away from all this. How would you spend your life?"

Harry smiled a little. "Travel, I suppose," he said. "Visit Egypt and the pyramids. I've always wanted to see the pyramids. Maybe visit China and France too. Maybe Germany and Japan and Uganda."

McGonagall's hand was on his shoulder now.

And for some reason, it didn't feel uncomfortable any more.

"Then do all of that, Potter," she breathed. Her eyes warmed. "Ignore Voldemort. Treat him like he doesn't exist. I would love to tour the world again. The last time I did that, I was a young witch. We'll do all of that again."

Harry's breath hitched, and he glanced away.

"Brighten up, Potter," McGonagall reprimanded. "Travelling with your teacher doesn't have to be that torturous, you know." She winked at him. "I know all the best restaurants and tourist spots."

"Dumbledore is going to come after me. He won't stop until the Horcrux in me is dead – and there really is no way to get rid of the Horcrux unless I die too," Harry said. "I suppose he's going to disrupt our travel plans."

McGonagall sighed.

"What I am saying is, Potter, you are your own person. I know you're overwhelmed, but you've forgotten your greatest gift. You've been living with Voldemort for too long, been treated as a weapon for too long."

She looked up at him, and Harry suddenly found himself marvelling at how spirited she was, despite her age, despite her strict demeanour. No wonder Draco had come to appreciate her. She was a brilliant person.

The irony of it …

He was so cynical compared to her. It really should have been the other way round. But Voldemort had got rid of all his childishness.

"You are a survivor, Potter," McGonagall continued softly. "You are so good at surviving and adapting. Your greatest gift, something we've all been blessed with, is life. You've become so good at defending it that you've forgotten what it's meant for. When you're my age, you'll realise that you don't want to survive. You want to live."

Harry stared at her, rapt.

"Live life to its fullest, as they say," McGonagall said, with a tight smile. "Voldemort will never again enjoy the pleasure of life as you and I can. That is his greatest weakness."

"And how do I … live?"

"Carve your own path, do the things you want and forget all the consequences. Forget Dumbledore and Grindelwald and Voldemort. They're insignificant. It's your life, and only you have the right to make the decisions. Alone."

"I-I don't know –"

McGonagall smiled at him. "My purpose tonight is not to influence you, Potter, but to show you that there can be another way."

She stood up and gave him one last pat on the shoulder. "It's bedtime for me now, Potter. I'll let you sleep on it. And close the lights when you're ready."

Before she could step away, Harry's hand closed on her wrist.

She looked at him questioningly.

"Professor, I-I just, never mind … Thank you."

...

Three days passed, and Harry had a plan. McGonagall was right, he realised. He could not go on like this, being protected and treated like a property by the Dark Lord. For one reason or another, everyone seemed to only see the Horcrux within him.

Dumbledore would love to get his hands on him again and actually wipe the Horcrux out this time. Harry had no intention of letting him do it. As much he wanted to be rid of the Horcrux also, he was not willing to go along with it if it meant his life would be taken in the process.

If he had his way, he would already be halfway around the globe by now with McGonagall. She was an excellent tutor, and she had been teaching him how to occlude the past few days, ever since Voldemort had started banging on his head.

That was another issue.

Voldemort was taking advantage of his mental connection with Harry. At first, when he realised Harry had no intention of going back to him, he had tried reasoning. Imagine that! The Dark Lord trying to reason with someone.

It hadn't lasted long.

Next came the threats. Threats of punishment once Voldemort took him back, which, according to Voldemort, was 'inevitable'. And then there were threats of what he would do to Tom, seeing as the Unbreakable Vow had failed to work – perhaps due to the peculiar circumstances.

Harry fretted a bit over that, but Tom was fully capable of defending himself, and he doubted that Voldemort was going to do much. Besides, whatever Tom got, he deserved.

Harry thanked the long distance between them and Voldemort. Since his Occlumency wasn't up to scratch, the distance seemed to be the only thing that stopped Voldemort from discovering their hideaway.

As much as he would love travelling with McGonagall, there was something he had to do first. He really had to.

He had to face Dumbledore, even if it ended in his death. Better now than when Harry had just started learning what truly living felt like. He had already sent Dumbledore a message via owl. It was easy enough to catch a wild one and cast the Imperius Curse. Dumbledore would be waiting for him.

He could manage this without Tom. Without Voldemort.

Without McGonagall.

It wasn't safe for her. He had a feeling that if she showed her face again, Dumbledore wouldn't be able to stop Grindelwald from tearing her up into pieces.

If he came back, he promised himself that he was going to see the pyramids with McGonagall. It was going to be fantastic. If he came back, that was.

First, though, he had something he had to learn.

...

"Professor," he said tentatively.

McGonagall turned around to look at him.

"There's this spell that Voldemort used on Tom. I was wondering if you'd heard of it. I think it makes the person experience things from the viewpoint of something else. Like a transfer of memories, except more …"

"Powerful?" McGonagall frowned at him. "I do know the spell, Potter. May I ask what you intend to do with it?"

"Just curious."

"I doubt it," she said. "Still … I fail to see what harm will come of it. It's not a dark spell. It's actually closely linked to Legilimency. In fact, some will say it's a part of it. I'm sure you'll muster it soon enough. It's not particularly difficult. The incantation is Legilimens Translego."

She proceeded to demonstrate the wand movement.

In two hours, Harry had managed to successfully pull it off. He had been a bit slow, and the spell didn't work perfectly, but he was sure it would do the job.

"Thanks, Professor," he said.

"Welcome." She stepped back and observed him proudly. "You are a natural, Mister Potter. I don't remember you learning this quickly when you were at Hogwarts."

Harry grinned. "People adapt, Professor."

"You're a living example."

He laughed again. It felt so domestic. He wondered if this was what it would have been like if his parents were alive. McGonagall was a teacher, of course, but he couldn't help but feel as if she was trying to show him what a true family should feel like.

Inwardly, he also felt like crying.

"You've done so much for me, Professor. I'm indebted to you."

"Potter, you owe me nothing."

She looked like she was going to draw him into a hug.

Harry backed away.

"Potter?"

"I'm terribly, terribly sorry."

The expression of confusion on her face was almost too much. "For what?"

"For this," he replied, turning his wand on her. "Stupefy."

He caught her as she fell and moved her onto the sofa. He couldn't believe he was doing this to the one professor on the Light Side who had shown him any kindness, but he didn't want to be responsible for her death. He didn't want to have her blood on his hands as well.

"Incarcerous."

As he made to leave, his head exploded with pain.

With a grunt, he landed on his knees.

Harry, this is your last warning. Return to me and I will not do anything I regret.

Go away, he snarled back.

One last chance, Harry. Don't make me come and get you.

And then Voldemort tore at the information on the front of his mind. The pain was almost unbearable. He had no idea how the Dark Lord was doing it, and – oh God – his brain felt like it was on fire.

And then nothing.

It felt like Voldemort suddenly stopped everything he was doing. As if he was … stunned.

Harry dismissed it. At least the invasion on his mind had stopped for now, and he could get to Dumbledore.

...

Voldemort could not believe what he had seen. It was sheer foolishness. His Horcrux was in danger again. It seemed like the Potter boy was suicidal. Returning to Dumbledore and facing him? He was going to die. And so would a part of his soul.

This was not going to happen.

"My Lord?"

Tom had glided in through the doors, mocking as ever. Voldemort felt his patience running out. He had no idea how long Potter would last in a battle with Dumbledore.

Hopefully long enough.

"He is going to Dumbledore."

Tom might have paled a shade whiter, but he couldn't quite tell. He didn't have time to carefully observe Tom. He rose from his seat and summoned his Death Eaters. It seemed like there wasn't enough time to make an adequate plan.

If there was going to be a faceoff with the old man, it had to be now.

If Potter survived this, he was going to pay for forcing his hand. Voldemort despised rushing into things without any warning. He wasn't a Gryffindor after all.

"To his death," Tom remarked impassively. "How predictable."

"Are you coming?"

Tom was still a little unhinged from experiencing Harry's emotions, Voldemort could tell. It was not really surprising when Tom arched an eyebrow and replied, "I'm not sure I want to rescue the brat. I'm sure you'll do a good job by yourself."

...

Harry twisted around when he sensed Dumbledore's presence behind him.

There he was. Hair and beard billowing like a flag in the wind. He had such a regretful look on his face that Harry might have felt sorry for him if it was not for the fact that he was going to be killed.

Dumbledore approached him.

Leaves rustled under his shoes, and Harry almost took an involuntary step back, but he stood his ground. He wanted this. He needed this confrontation before he could get on with his life again. This had to happen.

"Harry, I've come alone," he said. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Good to see you honouring your promise."

"It would be immoral not to listen to you when you're willingly sacrificing your life. Gellert tried to persuade me to let him come, but …"

Harry was doing all he could not to gape. Dumbledore thought this meeting was him finally 'seeing the light' and deciding to commit suicide for the Greater Good. How wrong he was. This was twisted.

The sun was shining so brightly overhead that it hurt to look straight at Dumbledore and into the sun. Harry personally thought that it should be pelting with rain, to symbolise the – God, he was becoming nearly as dramatic as Tom.

"You know, my boy, I truly did not want this to end this way," Dumbledore said morosely. "Unfortunately, this is how it has to end. I'm so, so sorry. I don't expect you to accept my apology but –"

"I didn't actually come here to die," Harry said.

Dumbledore arched an eyebrow. "My boy –"

Harry noted that he didn't even take out his wand.

"I wanted to show you something," he continued, "something illuminating. I thought you might find it fascinating. You know how you said people change, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse? You said I learned to torture people, to join Voldemort? I thought I should show you how you changed."

The expression on Dumbledore's face changed, and now the wand was finally coming out from under Dumbledore's sleeve.

Harry had already pointed his wand at Dumbledore. "Legilimens Transle –"

Before he had time to finish the incantation, he was lifted off his feet by a great force. And suddenly he was dangling in mid-air, staring down at Dumbledore who looked at him sadly. "I'm really sorry."

And then Harry was being thrown into the tree behind him.

He landed with a sickening snap, and he wasn't sure if he broke something. Adrenaline was pounding through him. He sat up, and grabbed his wand –

And promptly got picked up by the force and hurled in front of Dumbledore.

Harry coughed into the ground.

"A painless death," Dumbledore was murmuring. "It's the least that I can do for you, isn't it? Avada Kedavra."

Harry barely intercepted it with a summoned rock.

Said rock exploded into smithereens right in front of Dumbledore's face. Seizing his wand and his opportunity simultaneously, Harry leapt up and pointed the wand first at himself and then at Dumbledore.

"Legilimens Translego!"

Dumbledore stumbled, and glanced at Harry, his eyes wide in what looked like horror. It was not the typical horror Harry had seen when people were kneeled in front of Voldemort. This was pure, unrivalled, undiluted horror. Horror at himself.

Harry wondered which of his memories Dumbledore was experiencing right now.

He could see Dumbledore shaking. His shoulders were shaking as though he was suffering a seizure.

And then Dumbledore dropped his wand. The thud it made when it landed on the ground drew Harry's attention.

Disarmed and caught up in memories, Dumbledore was well and truly vulnerable. Harry grimaced. He had never seen the headmaster vulnerable. Frankly, it unnerved him. He reached across and picked up Dumbledore's wand. It felt so small in his hand.

Dumbledore had fallen now.

Figuratively and literally.

On his knees, Dumbledore was mumbling something over and over again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Harry felt a sudden rush of pity.

He had planned to take the chance and end it all, and he had clearly not thought it through. He looked numbly at the two wands he now held. He could end this now. His hands clenched. Could he really kill someone as carelessly as Voldemort?

Was there even a point?

What if Dumbledore realised where he had gone wrong and changed?

Harry couldn't believe he was having doubts now. If he killed Dumbledore, didn't that make him just as bad as Dumbledore? He'd be playing God, wouldn't he? It wasn't his right to take life, just as it wasn't his right to decide who lived and who died.

Even Dumbledore had hesitated about killing him personally.

If Harry killed him now, didn't it make him as bad as Voldemort, technically?

Dumbledore was crying out now, in what seemed like pain. Apologies came out in a continuous stream from his lips.

Harry felt sick.

When cracks signifying apparition rung around him, he barely had the sense to stand up and brace himself for Grindelwald.

It turned out it wasn't Grindelwald.

It was Voldemort.

Harry felt like a shadow, unnoticed, as Voldemort caught sight of the incapacitated Dumbledore who was still whispering out apologies at the air. He would never forget the sheer dark hunger that came across Voldemort's face.

Like a shark that had smelled blood.

As he watched, Voldemort walked towards Dumbledore and placed a foot on his back to keep him low. He felt like vomiting. Of course the Dark Lord wouldn't waver like he did. Like Dumbledore did.

With a chilling smile, Voldemort casually lifted Harry's curse.

Dumbledore fell quiet.

In the silence, it was easy to hear what he told Voldemort.

"Tell Harry I'm sorry."

Later when Harry thought back to it, he would comprehend that Dumbledore must have known he was going to die by Voldemort's hand. Easy prey. And that he had hoped his last words would be passed on to Harry.

"Crucio."

Dumbledore screamed.

Voldemort was worse than Dumbledore. At least the headmaster had shown mercy, had wanted to grant him a painless death. Voldemort was …

Harry felt so confused, so bewildered.

He felt his stomach turn.

"Lacerabis."

Dumbledore's skin was splitting like a dried fruit. Blood was pouring out of his eyes, his ears, his mouth. Harry had never seen anything like it. He had never wanted to see anything like it. The skin was folding. It was disgusting.

From Dumbledore's hands up to his elbows, there was no skin.

The curse spread.

And spread.

And spread.

When it had done its work, there was nothing left to distinguish Dumbledore as human, let alone his identity.

The smell of rotting corpse filled Harry's nostrils.

He could only assume it was something to do with the curse.

One moment, Dumbledore had been there, apologising. And the next, Voldemort had ripped into him.

With a flick of his wand, Voldemort set the body on fire.

Oh God.

Harry turned around and apparated before Voldemort could pay any attention to him.

The last thing he saw was Tom's face and his hand stretching out for Harry.