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Chapter Thirty-Six—Our Life Is Eaten

"All right," Percy says the minute Harry walks into the room. "I knew what you were going to do with the Dementors, but I'm still puzzled why you did that first, before you did the part of your plan that involves the Elder Wand."

Harry sighs and flings himself back on the couch. He was out this morning with Hermione, who has come out of hiding for a while, working on how to unravel the last of the Invisibility Cloak and, with it, unravel the bonds of the house-elves. "To make sure that the Ministry can't panic when it feels what the Wand is going to do and unleash the Dementors on us."

Percy stares at him. "You think they would do that. On their own people."

"They haven't exactly made many moral decisions since the war," Harry murmurs, closing his eyes. Now and then he feels a pulse in the center of his chest that attempts to tug him in the direction of either the Invisibility Cloak or the Wand. He's felt it since the Resurrection Stone was destroyed. They want him, as the Master of Death. Well, they can go hang. "Maybe they wouldn't do it. But I'm not taking the chance."

"Are they even going to be coherent enough in the wake of the spell you cast to make that decision?"

"Maybe not. Not taking the chance."

Percy sits down on the chair across from him, or at least he does by the sound. Harry isn't exactly going to open his eyes right now and check. "You're doing this because you want to escape being Master of Death, right?"

"That's definitely one of the reasons. Not the only one."

"But you don't know, even if everything goes perfectly right, that people won't be prejudiced against Muggleborns again in a hundred years."

Harry snorts and grants Percy the honor of one open eye. "Yes, I do. That's the whole point. Now, if some other kind of prejudice arises, like Muggleborns getting into power and deciding to reverse things on pure-bloods, I can't do anything about that, but at a certain point, I'm allowed to stop caring. What happens in a hundred years isn't my problem. I'll be dead by then."

"With wizard lifespans—"

Harry laughs. "It's cute that you think I'm going to die a natural death, Percy."

Percy stops talking, and his face is absolutely blank now. Harry watches him, snuggled on his side against the back of the couch and thinking about tugging down the thick blanket on the back of it for a quick nap. But he wants to see what else Percy comes up with first. He's sort of entertaining.

"Please tell me that's not a suicide threat."

"Of course not, Perce—"

"Don't call me that!"

"It's called realistic assessment. Some of the chances that I've taken while we organized the rebellion and started eliminating the Sun Chamber could have killed me. I know that. It was chance they didn't. Chance and me being a bit more powerful than my enemies. I won't be nearly as involved in politics when this spell is done, but on the other hand, I also know that I won't keep away from people who need my help. Sooner or later, I'll lose against those odds."

Percy goes on staring at him. Harry curls up and goes to sleep. It turns out that he doesn't need the blanket after all. His own self-satisfaction is enough to keep him warm.

"It's done."

Harry stands up and hugs Hermione as she stumbles out of the fireplace. Ron is right behind him, his face radiant. Hermione leans into him and yawns. "I feel like I could sleep for a year."

"I felt that way this afternoon," Harry tells her cheerfully, and watches with a little bit of wistfulness as Ron coaxes Hermione to sit at the table and drink tea. He does wish he could have someone like that.

But then again, then he would have to risk having someone arguing with him, and involved in his plans, and thinking they could influence him because they were sleeping with him, and all the rest of it. No. Better to keep such things to his best friends and sworn allies.

Ron shoves a plate of scones in front of Hermione, along with so many varieties of cream and butter and honey and marmalade that Harry blinks a little. He didn't know those existed. He shoots Ron a glance for holding out on him, but Ron is sitting in the chair next to Hermione's, his whole attention concentrated on her. Harry gives up on getting any glances from him right now, and sits down across the table from her.

"It worked exactly the way we thought it would," Hermione says, when she has managed to eat a scone with a tottering mound of cream and butter on top without letting anything fall. "The Cloak started to unravel when I was forcing it to conceal the bonds that the house-elves had to their families. And then when I started to sever those bonds, the Cloak was cut, too."

"I still don't really understand how you got that to work, though," Ron interjects. "I mean, the Cloak always covered physical stuff. How could you make it hide bonds or anything magical?"

Hermione looks at Harry. Harry smiles back. "Your theory was correct. The Deathly Hallows were meant to be all-powerful. So they'll strain to do anything their Master asks them to do, even if it destroys them."

"The Resurrection Stone is gone, then." Hermione's eyes are sharp.

Harry nods. "And when I reversed it and made it take the Dementors back with the souls, I—fainted or something. I was in the same place that I told you about seeing after Voldemort struck me with the Killing Curse. But this time, I saw Death. It seemed really puzzled when I said that I didn't want ultimate power. Plus, it implied that the other Hallows would be easy to destroy with one of them gone."

Ron leans forwards. "Does that mean the Elder Wand is in danger?"

Harry thinks about it as he steals and munches on one of Hermione's scones. "I don't think so. No one but a few people knows what we're going to do, and you're the only ones who know the Wand's actual location. So unless someone's offering you a great deal of money and you're planning to betray me…"

"Please," Hermione sniffs. "As if we would betray you for money. It would have to be at least a mansion in London and apologies by all pure-bloods who have ever insulted a Muggleborn."

Harry laughs. "And soon we won't have to worry about that."

"Yes. Soon." Hermione swallows a little. "Harry, when are you going to start this plan?"

"As soon as I gain my strength back from destroying the Resurrection Stone and the Dementors."

Ron closes his eyes. "Can you—is there any way that I can warn my family? I mean, not that I think they'll be affected by the spell to anywhere near the extent that the other pure-bloods are. But they might be, a little. And if they're incoherent in front of other people, there are enemies of theirs who wouldn't forget that and would try to use it against them later."

Harry flaps his hand. "If you think you can warn them to go home and stay private without betraying what we're up to, then go ahead and say anything you want. I just don't think they'll listen."

"At least Percy and Bill and Fleur and their kids and George are going to be safe."

Harry nods. "And you know that I would have told your parents if I thought I could, Ron. Even Ginny. But there's just too much personal history and loyalty to the Ministry and the memory of Dumbledore there. Dumbledore would have disapproved of what I was doing, so Molly would. You know that."

"Dumbledore never wanted to force people to change their minds. He always wanted to give them the choice."

"I know, Hermione. And sometimes that was really admirable. And sometimes he should have done something, like when he knew that Snape was going to be forced into an impossible position because Draco had been assigned to kill him. But he was too caught up in other concerns."

"After this, you don't have to worry about things like that," Hermione observes quietly, her hand tightening for a moment on the marmalade knife.

"No," Harry says, and hugs her one more time before he steps back. There are a few things he has to go talk to Neville about, even if he doesn't have his full magical strength back and thus can't trigger the Elder Wand's spell yet.

"I got the last one this morning."

Harry grins as he leans out the window to admire the keystone of the door at Neville's house, which has been absorbing the magical signatures of members of the Sun Chamber who passed underneath it. "Really? I was almost thinking we'd have to go ahead with what we had. It was Burke, wasn't it?"

Neville nods. "And I didn't even have to owl him. He came here because he thinks that someone is planning a coup in the Sun Chamber, and that's the reason the sun went out the other day." Neville leans back with his hands behind his head. They're in the sunlit drawing room of Longbottom Manor, and Hannah is listening while she writes down notes for a class she's taking at one of the Muggle universities. "He wanted to recruit me to his side for a counter-coup."

Harry snorts. "Of course they can't believe that someone would want to get rid of the Sun Chamber altogether."

"No one believes that, though. They think they're special, but so does everyone else in the wizarding world."

Harry nods. "Are you ready then, Neville? Do you want to trigger the keystone today, or do you want to wait until the Elder Wand starts its wildfire?"

Neville hesitates. Then he says, "I'd rather wait until the wildfire, if you don't mind. I know that this is just a small thing next to what you have planned, but—I still worry that someone would notice and figure it out, and then they might come after me and Hannah. Our wards are strong, but not that strong."

"And there's always the chance that we might be incapacitated," Hannah says quietly, sitting back and giving up the pretense that she's taking notes anymore. "I don't think that I harbor any prejudices towards magical creatures or Muggleborns, but I still remember my mum and dad telling me stories about sneaky goblins and horrible werewolves. I'd hate to find myself on the floor because I had them and didn't know it."

Harry nods. "That's perfectly fine. I just wanted to make sure that you didn't want to go ahead—"

"Someone's at the wards."

From the way Neville says it, Harry knows this isn't any ordinary visitor. The Longbottom wards hold a special, subtle magic that lets the owner of the manor know if they should be wary of people who brush against them. Harry sits up. "Who?"

Neville has his eyes shut, his mind ranging out through the wards. He snaps his eyes open a second later with a small hiss. "Susan."

Harry blinks. "You have her magical signature in the keystone, right? She can't do anything to convince you to take down the wards?"

"No, of course she can't. And yes, I have her signature. But it worries me that she's here at all, Harry. Is it a coincidence that she showed up when you were visiting? I don't think so." Neville's nostrils are flaring. The look on his face reminds Harry of the way he looked when he killed Nagini. "I'd prefer it if I didn't have to hurt her."

"Don't hurt her." Hannah is standing up now, looking back and forth between them as if they've gone mad. "I know her. She was my best friend in school! You can't hurt her."

"But if she's here to stop me, we may have to." Harry says. He ignores the wounded look in Hannah's eyes. He always knew that he would probably end up hurting some of his friends and allies as well. And he isn't about to sacrifice a future free of prejudice against Muggleborns because Hannah wishes Susan can be left unscathed.

He turns to Neville. "Is she alone?"

Neville nods. The line of his neck is so tense that it looks painful. "But the wards wouldn't be reacting this way if she came in peace."

"Let her in." Harry has his wand in hand, and he moves so that he's sitting down in the chair next to the fireplace. If something goes wrong, then he can do the vital thing, the thing that will render any move Susan tries to make moot. "I don't think we can find out for sure what she wants if we keep her waiting out there."

"Don't hurt her," Hannah mutters, but she's watching Harry more than Neville. Harry grins, which doesn't seem to reassure her.

Neville makes a complicated gesture with his hands and then steps back and sighs. "The wards have parted to let her in. But only her. If anyone's following her under an Invisibility Cloak or the like, they're going to get a nasty surprise."

Harry only nods. He focuses on the feel of Susan's magic as she walks up the stairs. She doesn't feel hostile to him, either, but like Neville said, she's keyed up about something. The magic wouldn't tremble and bite at the air around her like that if she was calm.

Susan steps into the drawing room, sucks in her breath as if she's going to speak to Hannah or Neville, and then lets it go again when she spots Harry. Harry is sure that he's interpreting the expression on her face correctly. She didn't know he was here.

"Well, good," Susan says, after a moment of what looks like reeling shock on her part. "I—I know that you have good intentions, Harry, but I can't let you destroy yourself like this."

"Oh?" Harry shifts, ready to rise, ready to duel.

Susan nods. "You're—a lot better than I thought you were. That means that you couldn't possibly have killed Kingsley."

"Harry."

It's Neville's voice, distant, and somehow Harry can hear it through the pounding haze of red and white in his eyes. But only barely. He's on his feet and across the room with his wand pressed into Susan's throat.

He doesn't remember doing that. And Susan isn't looking at him as if she's afraid. She's studying him with pity shining in her eyes.

"What did you do?" Harry snarls at her, while his ears ring and his vision crackles and breaks into crazed sparks.

"I told the Ministry and the members of the Sun Chamber who remain that you didn't kill Kingsley, that it must have been an elaborate illusion. There are spells that could make it look like you killed him, and you're powerful enough to cast them. And they listened to me. They're still going to be wary about it, but they want to talk with you."

"Do you understand that you might have destroyed everything?"

"I was doing the right thing. It's not fair for them to think of you as a Dark Lord when you really aren't. And I don't even know what you're doing trying to make them think you are, Harry. You can get a lot more allies by being reasonable."

Harry turns around and meets Neville's eyes. Neville's mouth is a thin line. Hannah is staring back and forth between Harry and Susan as if she's not sure which of them she wants to protect more.

"There are other people coming towards the wards," Neville says quietly.

Harry straightens. Those might be members of the Sun Chamber or ordinary people from the Ministry. It doesn't matter. The minute they start thinking of him as something other than a blood-soaked maniac, then they might figure out what he really wants.

"It's going to have to be now," he says. "Can you tell the others, Neville? And Hannah?" The spells to contact the other members of the rebellion will be stronger with two people casting them.

"You can't do it now, Harry! You aren't recovered enough from destroying the Dementors. You aren't strong enough."

"You destroyed the Dementors?" Susan looks as if she's going to faint.

"If I die in doing this, it's going to be a small sacrifice. I always knew that I wasn't going to die a natural death, Neville."

"I don't want you to—"

Harry looks at Neville, and Neville shuts up. For a second, a pulse throbs in a vein on his forehead, and then he nods. "Hannah and I will alert the others, Harry. Are you going to use my Floo? Can you actually reach the place the Elder Wand is stored from there?"

"No," Harry says. "I'm going to have to Apparate." He starts to gather up his strength. Honestly, this is one reason he wanted to wait. He managed to hide the Elder Wand in the right place months ago when he was still welcome in the Ministry, just strolling into the department and leaving it there. Now he'll have to tear through the protections that keep someone from Apparating in.

What a bore.

"You can't—you can't Apparate from here." Susan sounds a little stunned. "Neville has wards that will stop you."

A gesture from Neville, and he drops the wards. "I'll alert Ron and Hermione, too," he says. "Maybe they can get to you in time. Good luck, Harry."

Harry takes the time to nod at Hannah and glare at Susan, who still looks as though she didn't know what she did. And honestly, if they could wait a bit, if they could soothe the people coming to Neville's door, maybe it wouldn't be catastrophic. There's the possibility that they might not figure out what Harry's doing even if they believe Susan and they've decided that he's not evil.

But there's also the chance that they will. Harry obviously isn't as good an actor as he thinks he is, if both Percy and Susan have figured him out in short order.

Harry leaps into the air and disappears. The air around him tightens and shakes, and he rips through the wards with vicious strokes of his magic. They try to repair themselves as fast as he slices them, but Harry is stronger and more vicious and more frantic. He rolls onto the floor and then opens his eyes.

He's in the Department of Mysteries, kneeling before the Veil. And in front of him, standing with the Elder Wand in its hand, is the cloaked figure that Harry last met in the world between the worlds when he destroyed the Resurrection Stone.

"Tell me why I should allow you to destroy the last of my Hallows," says Death.