A/N: Chap 33 Review responses in my forums as normal. Thank you.

Chapter Thirty-Four: Falling

Harry froze as a wall of green death flew toward him. In his mind, he could hear Voldemort laughing, while all around him everyone else seemed to freeze with expressions of horror or surprise. He imagined his own face was more surprised than anything.

He was going to die, again.

He was going to die, until one of the doors of the Great Hall quite suddenly jumped off its hinges and dove over Harry's head like an acrobat and landed right in front of him. The sudden impact of so many killing curses reduced the wood and metal construct to vapour with a tremendous explosion, the shockwave of which sent Harry and a still unconscious Justine both flying back through the now open passageway to a pair of beautifully crafted, purple-died leather boots. The whole front of his body felt at once hot and numb.

He looked up to see Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkling down at him. "All right there, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry breathed, too stunned to do anything else.

"Then might I suggest you and your friends leave now?"

In the rest of the hall, Hit Witches stood in shock at the sudden appearance of the headmaster. The hesitation of the Sabbat forces gave the students a chance to gather together behind the headmaster. Harry turned his head and saw Hannah bleeding from her side, while Angelina limped painfully. The rest looked frazzled and terrified, save for Ron who was weeping as he tried to help his trembling and twitching sister up with his arm around her.

Hermione slid to Harry's side in an instant, helping Justine up without a word.

"You actually came?" Delia Griffin snarled to Dumbledore from the middle of the Great Hall. "You dare show your face here?"

"My dear, I am the headmaster of this school," Dumbledore said in a calm, almost genteel tone. "I am sworn to protect its students from any evil—even yours."

"You're a dark lord!" the Griffin Dame shouted angrily. "You're defending a murderer!" She pointed at Harry.

"Child, you of all people know that even children have the right to defend themselves," Dumbledore said.

"Enough talking," Elezeta snarled. "What is it with you people and talking. Just shut up and kill them all!"

The Hit Witches recovered themselves and prepared to cast, only for Dumbledore to slash his wand horizontally in front of him. Harry blinked in shock as a huge wave of red stunning magic shot out toward every Hit Witch simultaneously. Most managed to summon a shield, but not all did. However, that was only the start of Dumbledore's attack. The remaining door behind him suddenly slid down from the hinges and changed into a massive chimera, which released a wall-shaking roar before jumping over his head.

With this to occupy the enemy, Dumbledore turned and said, "All of you; go now!"

Harry turned to run when a sharp, stabbing pain made him look down. The front of his torn T-shirt was covered in blood. "Ouch," he muttered.

Hermione blinked at him from where she was trying to carry Justine, and then at the blood. "Oh God," she whispered. "Harry, are you okay?"

"Nothing's too deep, I think," he said. "Must have been from when the door blew up."

He summoned his broom to fly away, but saw with growing horror that Ginny could not fly, and it looked like Hannah wasn't able to either. At least, they couldn't fly through the halls of the school safely. So instead, hobbled with injuries, they started making their way through the mostly empty school. Harry counted his blessings that all but the Fifth and Seventh Years were gone, with the exception of Luna and…

"Ron," Harry called.

"Yeah?"

"Why is Ginny even in the castle? She's a Fourth Year!"

"Folks weren't home yet," Ron said. "They've been in France visiting with Bill's…bondmate."

"Ahh, yeah, the Veela," Harry said.

"Harry, you're bleeding and running for your life, are you really going to talk about Veelas?" Hermione snapped.

Seamus called, "Bloody 'ell, Granger, there's always time to talk about Veelas!"

Behind them, the Chimera died, only to be replaced by another fantastical beast Harry didn't even recognize. Dumbledore came up behind them, at his fastest speed only matching Hannah, or Ron hobbling along with Ginny. "They have more forces coming from the front gates," the Headmaster said. "Where is Mrs Potter or Miss Greengrass?"

"Astronomy tower," Harry said. His legs felt wonky for some reason. He stumbled and would have fallen if not for Hermione clutching his arm. He blinked in confusion until he saw Seamus carrying Justine.

"Then let's go, my boy." The headmaster stopped, turned and brandished his wand as a squad of Hit Witches rounded a corner, curses already on their lips. The marble on the floor rippled like water before flexing in a huge tidal wave of stone that threw witches into the air like dolls. The headmaster followed them, casting over his shoulder to transfigure shields or monsters to protect them, but never casting direct curses at any of the witches trying to kill them.

"Ginny, come on!" Ron said, crying openly as Ginny slipped nerveless from his grasp.

"Ron, are you a wizard or aren't you?" Hermione hissed.

Fred was ahead of them both. He turned and cast a featherweight charm on his sister and said, "Carry her, you dunce!"

Ron, too grateful to be mad, gathered the petite Weasley daughter and threw her over one shoulder while grasping both their brooms in his hands. All of them were still carrying their brooms, but Harry could see from Hannah's ashen expression that she couldn't fly at all, and in fact was only upright because Neville and Susan were supporting her from either side.

"Harry, come on!" Hermione said desperately.

"Legs feel wonky," he said.

Suddenly the floor in front of them exploded; Dumbledore cast a shielding charm that stopped all but the first few shards of debris from reaching them. Through the dust, they could see another group of Hit Witches and now a handful of red-robed Aurors bearing down on them from the opposite side of the castle.

Dumbledore lifted his wand and swept it across the hall; the walls themselves followed the motion, abruptly blocking the passage off. "Up, now!" he said, pointing at the new opening exposed by the change of the wall that revealed a set of stairs.

Harry took three steps before his left knee gave out entirely and deposited both him and Hermione on the steps. "Harry!" Hermione screeched.

"Sorry," he said. Suddenly he felt himself go completely weightless.

"Miss Granger, carry him,' Dumbledore commanded urgently after casting the featherweight charm.

Harry had the ignominious honour of being tossed over his wife's shoulder like a sack of beans while Dumbledore trudged up behind them. "Are you okay, headmaster?" Harry asked. It was a surreal question in a surreal situation, hanging over his wife's shoulder looking at this aged wizard in concern. He was out of breath as much from his injuries as Hermione's shoulder digging into his injured stomach, and yet Dumbledore seemed to be struggling even more than he just to breathe.

"Alas, my boy," Dumbledore puffed, "I am old. I doubt I will recover from my condition any time soon."

An explosion echoed behind them as the combined forces of the Sabbat broke through Dumbledore's barrier. He paused long enough to conjure huge, cloud-like swarms of wasps and bees before turning to climb further up the stairs. The magic he handled with ease and aplomb, but the steps appeared to be wearing him out completely.

"It was another trap," Harry said, finding himself with nothing to do. "They must have tortured Sirius into giving up how my map was made."

"My boy, Sirius was one of them," Dumbledore said. "He had the Dark Mark, Harry. His imprisonment was no mistake."

"He betrayed you as badly as he did your parents," Hermione said over her shoulder.

Finally they reached the next level available through a portrait of a very large woman with a mountainous bosom wrapped up in a white toga riding an Abraxan side-saddle. "Is this the fourth floor corridor?" Hermione asked.

Dumbledore paused at the top and placed a hand against a wall to catch his breath. "Indeed it is," he said when he was recovered enough from the climb to speak. "The astronomy tower should be just up the hall."

"Hear that, Ginny?" Ron said. "We're almost there!"

Hermione sat Harry down gently. He was able to stand on his own, despite his wonky legs. They hobbled, hopped, and in Angelina's case hovered on a broom toward the Astronomy tower door. "Harry, I must give you something," the headmaster said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial of mist.

"What is that?" Harry asked.

"A memory of you, my boy. Of your first true prophecy. You need to know it. And one last thing." Harry came to a stop when Dumbledore handed him his wand.

"But sir…"

"Harry," Dumbledore said softly, "did you read the legends of Godric Gryffindor? How he resisted wanded magic so long?"

Harry shook his head.

"It is because he had this, Harry. This is the Elder Wand, passed down from one Gryffindor to another, from even before Gryffindor's time. It is, at least for the moment, the only one of its kind in Britain, and possibly all of Europe."

Reverently, Harry accepted the wand and felt a sudden rush of heat, as if he were caught in a strong bonding. "It's…it's…"

"It is a male wand, Harry," Dumbledore said softly. "The true secret to my power and strength. It was given to me not by my Dame, but my father in secret, before circumstances forced us apart. It has served me for these many years, and now it will serve you."

"But…"

Dumbledore removed a second wand from his robe. "The wand my dame gave me. It will serve for what needs to be done. No one can know about that wand, Harry, not yet. Now, let us be on our way."

They reached the stairs leading up to the tower just as both squads of Hit Witches and Aurors arrived, one after another of them poured from both the secret stairway Harry's group just exited, and the far side of the hall. Once more Dumbledore began weaving magic with a skill and power that made Harry feel small and inadequate. Suits of armour sprang to life, marble in the hallway swept toward the enemy in waves, and from the stained glass windows wild beasts jumped down and charged the two groups of witches.

"Can you make it?" Hermione asked him.

Harry glanced up the stairs and felt his knees trembling at the thought. "Don't think so," he admitted.

Hermione grabbed him around the waist and, because he was still under the influence of Dumbledore's feather-light charm and his own magic, carried him easily up the stairs while he held onto their brooms. Dumbledore followed after, moving backward as he conjured more and more obstacles and defences. The magic he cast did not seem any weaker than what he cast with the wand Harry now held, but when Harry looked more intently over Hermione's shoulder, he could see magic swelling at the base and tip of the wand, as if caught by a filter, that fed back into the headmaster with a slight taint.

They made it to the top of the tower where Hermione set Harry down. As he regained his feet, he turned to see what his second wife was staring at and felt a knot of cold form in his stomach.

Black eyes looked out from the face of Barty Crouch Jr., who had an arm around Luna's throat and the tip of a wand to her temple. Nearby on the ground, Tori sat with her knees to her chin, arms wrapped around her legs and tears streaming down her face. All their trunks and belongings were there, amid the Dark Lord's feet.

Harry's other friends spread out, unsure who it was they were looking at.

Dumbledore, though, knew. "Hello, Tom," Dumbledore said. "Somehow I suspected I would be seeing you soon."

"Albus, you look tired," Voldemort said, matching the headmaster's seemingly casual tone. "Tired and old."

"Indeed, I'm not as young as I used to be, though I see that in fact you are as young as you used to be." Dumbledore turned to Harry. "Really a good job with his necromancy, Harry."

"Er, thank you?"

"Enough talk, Dumbledore. You know what I want."

"A lemon drop, perhaps?"

Voldemort laughed without humour. "Always with the jokes. I will kill every child on this tower if you don't give me Potter and the wand. And if you don't decide soon, then Griffin and Malfoy will do the job for me."

"No doubt they will," Dumbledore said tiredly. "I will give you my wand, Tom … if you let everyone else go."

"Do you think me a fool?"

"Of course I do, Tom," Dumbledore said with a chortle. "But in this, I assure you, my offer is sincere. My wand in return for all these children."

"Potter too!"

"I cannot speak for him."

"I'll stay," Harry said without hesitation. "I know what your promises are worth, Voldemort." Those students who didn't realize who it was they were looking at gasped and stared in terror at the most powerful Dark Lord in Centuries. Harry, though, spat his words. "Let them all go, right now. No conditions, no bombs, no lies, and I'll stay with the headmaster."

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione hissed.

Harry looked at her and smiled. "Saving the ones I love. It's what I do."

"We'll stay!" Neville said.

"And will Hannah stay too, Neville?" Harry asked pointedly.

Neville paled and looked to the girl he and Susan held up, and the blood that was now soaking the leg of her trousers from her side. "All of you; go," Harry continued. "This is just old, unfinished business. Please, I can't do this if all of you are here."

He turned and walked to within a foot of where Voldemort held Luna. "You understand, right?' he asked his first wife.

"I do," Luna whispered, tears in her eyes.

Harry turned to Voldemort and raised his chin. "You have me. I'll give you all you want, but let them go now."

Voldemort threw Luna roughly toward Tori before grabbing at Harry. He remembered his first encounter with Voldemort in the Chamber of Secrets, or Cedric in the graveyard, and knew there was no way this monster would keep his word. In the chamber, he was an eleven year-old boy who barely knew how to use a wand. Now he was fifteen, stronger and fitter than he ever dreamed possible because of training and determination. Magically, he knew he was no match against this wizard. In terms of straight physical combat, he suspected he would lose as well. Even so, the days of his just giving up were long, long gone.

Harry caught the hand reaching for him, spun into the radius of Voldemort's arm and slammed his elbow as hard as he could into Voldemort's groin. "Now, Professor!" Harry screamed as he ducked.

Dumbledore did not hesitate; Harry had no idea what spell it was that Dumbledore used; only that as Harry dove and rolled away, a ball of red-tinged white struck Voldemort in his chest. Voldemort's all-black eyes widened in alarm and rage before the fire blasted him from the top of the tower. Harry rushed to the edge of the crenulations to see him fall, but at the last minute the man turned to a black mist that quickly fled into the night.

Dumbledore raised both hands and suddenly the walls of the castle itself took on a brilliant glow as the castle wards shimmered outward, chasing the mist of Voldemort's semi-apparition form. Seconds later, Harry heard a lod pop. He looked up to the headmaster and saw the ancient wizard gazing down with a bemused expression at his completely shattered wand.

"It never did suit me," he said softly. A moment later, while Harry was still looking at him, green killing magic struck the old man in the back.

It happened so fast Harry did not immediately register why the headmaster flew through the air the way he did; or why he flipped over the crenulations to fall right after Voldemort. Harry; still on the edge of the tower, looked down and caught a brief glimpse of the ancient wizard's face; Dumbledore was smiling as he fell, even though the magic had already been ripped away from his body. He looked perfectly at peace as he fell, already dead, to the rocks below.

Reality came roaring back as Harry became aware of voices shouting. He handled Dumbledore's wand, feeling the sympathetic power within it, just as a rough hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face an old, sneering witch in a Hit Witch's robe.

Harry did not bother incanting the spell; he did not bother with spoken magic at all. He was a Gryffindor—his element was fire, and it was fire he unleashed. The witch did not even have time to scream as fire roared from the tip of his new wand. It did not blow her back away from him; it blew through her chest before her body could gain any motion. As she collapsed, he saw other Hit Witches on the top of the tower staring at him while covering his friends.

He screamed and slashed his wand, unleashing the white hot fire. The more experienced witches cast flame-freezing charms, but the magical fuel of his flame burned through the charms as if they were not cast at all. More than a dozen witches burned, either falling from the tower after Dumbledore or running back down the stairs in agony before Harry's flame.

He didn't realize he was crying when he unleashed the flame.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted. "We have to go, now!"

Harry, though, stared down at the first witch he killed. "How many kills does that make?" he whispered.

Suddenly Luna was there, her magic pushing into his until they were one, her eyes locking with his. "We have to go," she said softly.

Her soft words penetrated where Hermione's screams couldn't. "Right, who can fly?"

"I'll carry Ginny," Ron said. "Where are we going?"

"Hogs Head," Harry decided immediately, shaking off his shock. "They have a Floo. We can get to a safe house from there. Neville, will you need help with Hannah?"

"I'll take care of her," Susan said. "I'm the stronger flyer!"

"I'll take Justine," Seamus volunteered.

"Then let's go."

They gathered their brooms and shrunken trunks; Harry motioned for Tori, who did not have a broom, and she climbed on behind him, clinging to him tightly. Her arms hurt his chest wounds, but he ground his teeth and ignored the pain. In seconds, they left the still burning astronomy tower behind.

As they approached the village, Harry began to second guess their approach. The centre of the town was awash with light and both Hit Witches and Aurors patrolled the streets. He started to suggest they keep going on to the nearest Muggle city when he saw a sharp white light from the shadowy edge of the town.

"No help for it," Harry whispered.

With waving hands he motioned the others to follow and they flew toward the light. He couldn't help but sigh in relief when he saw the gruff, angry form of Aberforth Dumbledore standing in the blackened alley behind the Hogshead.

His first words were: "How did Brian die?"

Harry stopped short and stared in surprise.

"Brian?"

"My brother, Albus, how did he die?"

"How did you…?"

Luna, having already landed, stepped up beside Harry and said, "He died at peace with his choices," she said. "Hit Witches used the killing curse, so he felt no pain when he fell from the tower."

"He was smiling," Harry said, astounded to say it. "When he was falling; his magic was gone already, but he was smiling."

The gruff old wizard stared so hard Harry could feel the man's magic against his; see the veins of power within him. He was nearly as ancient as his brother and quite possibly as powerful, despite his choice to live more simply. "Good," he finally said. "You're a sorry-looking lot. Come on, then."

Hobbled and injured as they were, it took some work to get into the Hogshead from the steep stairs in the back. They emerged into an empty taproom and a strangely cheering fire. "Minister declared curfew and I spiked the drinks of those horrid old cows of mine," the old wizard said. "You have a place to go?"

It was not a question; Harry realized the headmaster's brother was as involved as the headmaster himself was. "I do. Do you know if Sybil got out?"

"Aye, she and the werewolf got out an hour ago. The dark covens have been suspicious of the lass for years. Go on, now. I can't have you caught here."

Harry stood beside the fire; watching as Luna led Tori into the billowing green flame. For those who had never been, he told them the destination: "The Nest." Only when all were through did he start to go himself.

"Brian had something to give you," Aberforth said, making him pause.

Harry nodded and absently felt at the wand in his pocket. "He did."

Aberforth nodded. "Good. You're in his will—no living kids, you see. Neither of us ... it's probably for the best. We're all sorts of bolloxed-up in the head, you see. Go on, now, lad."

Harry threw the powder and stepped into the Floo. The sudden transition to twisting magic and thousands of voices immediately assaulted his eyes and ears, like hammers pounding on his head. He felt his magic responding more powerfully than before and realized it was going to be a painful decanting from the flame.

Indeed, he shot out like a cannonball, a shout of alarm on his lips. Before he slammed into the opposite wall of Grimmauld Place's sitting room, though, a web of gentle magic caught him and slowed him down.

He came down to the floor in a pile, only to be virtually tackled by Tori, who was howling in tears, and Hermione who was trying to quiet Tori as she clung onto Harry. He looked up and saw Remus Lupin looking down at him with a sad face. "Is Sybil…?"

"I'm here," he heard his mentor call from somewhere out of his sight. "Most of the Order made it out."

"Who's hurt?" a deep, male voice said.

"Hannah!" "Angie!" "All of us."

The last was Hermione, but she was looking primarily at the large, bleeding gash on Harry's chest. With the adrenalin and intent of his magic passing, he was feeling suddenly light-headed and in great pain.

"Yeah," he whispered. "We're all hurt."

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Author's Note: Very special thanks as always to Teufel1987, JR and Miles for beta reading. If there are any major faux-pas, they are entirely of my own doing.