Happy Tuesday!
Chapter 41 - The World
We will step out of the shadows and rule.
Voldemort's promise sent a smattering of applause and excited murmuring through the crowd as still more Death Eaters arrived. Each arrival sent Voldemort into a renewed round of speech, the intensity of it bleeding into the magic he turned on her to punctuate his triumphant diatribe against Muggles and Muggleborns.
Laying in a crumpled heap in the middle of the drawing room floor, Hermione retreated into herself. She couldn't lift her head; she could barely open her eyes for the magic that assaulted her. But inside…
Within her, she basked in the freeing power of the magic. It sang along her veins, fortifying them against the pain that Voldemort sought to embroil her in. And she was floating, away from him, away from the drawing room, burrowing into herself, at peace with herself and her magic as it whispered through her body.
Curse after curse lashed into her body, the force of it stealing her breath away. Her magic rioted, dancing along her skin in an attempt to block it out, to counteract it, but she held herself limp, waiting for the slithering sound of the snake or Bellatrix's heels across the floor.
But it never came, and with each passing second, her last shreds of hope began to wither and fade.
Finally, blessedly, the onslaught paused. "Lucius, why don't you do the honors on your boy?" Voldemort suggested, his voice thick with satisfied derision. "Teach him what happens when he chooses to lie with Mudblood filth."
And then, blinding pain. Pain worse than if the curse was racking through her own body; pain that screamed down the Legilimency connection she'd forged with Draco as his own father unleashed a Crucio on him. In vain, she tried to reach for him through their fraying connection; all she was met with was a wall of terror and pain as Draco's shattered cries echoed in the vast room around them.
Nothing worked; she couldn't reach him. As her gaze sought out the man responsible, finding Lucius Malfoy with tears sparkling in his cold eyes, it did nothing to bely the hate that flared in her stomach.
But like a crashing wave, a roiling magic washed over the manor. It was familiar, soothing her aching soul even as tears fell from the corners of her eyes.
For a breath, everything paused, and she could feel the presence of her friend as if she was standing there now. Narcissa.
And then, in a blink, it was gone.
Narcissa Malfoy was gone.
A sob worked it's way free from deep inside her—born of relief or pain, Hermione didn't know. She knew it in the depths of her soul as she felt the familiar magic blanket them and it filled her with anguish even she hadn't suspected. This magic, old and beautiful and powerful, was her last act—a final gift.
The wards of Malfoy Manor had fallen.
Whether Lucius noticed or not, he didn't react, not even a flicker of his brow to warn anyone of the ancestral estate's sudden vulnerability.
Finally, the magic assaulting her died away, eerie calm settling over the room as Voldemort threw his arms wide, head falling back as a sharp, barking laugh spilled from his lips.
"Too long we've hidden in the shadows, trusting our fate to those who stole magic from those who truly deserve to wield it." His impassioned tirade continued, allowing Hermione respite to stretch her weary bones as she rolled to her back.
Overhead, the domed ceiling was covered with murals of witches and wizards, magical flora and fauna opening and closing as it rotated through the seasons. What once must have been beautiful and representative of the magical world now seemed to depict a lie.
Magic was only for those privileged by birth, with the correct lineage, and Voldemort's appropriation of it was laughable.
And she did laugh, a short, hysterical sound spilling from her lips as she turned, rage fueling her hate to a crescendo.
The murmuring of the Death Eaters quieted. Somewhere in the room, Voldemort must have given his followers a signal to quiet themselves. She tried to raise herself to her elbows, but a foot shoved her back to the ground and dug into her spine, grinding her hip against the ground harshly.
Rancid breath filled the air as her captor leaned into her face. "Something funny?" Voldemort's hiss held a cruel amusement, and she laughed again, licking away the blood caked at the corner of her mouth. A hand tipped by sharp fingernails plunged into her hair and wrenched her head upward, forcing a whine out of her throat as she looked the monster in the eyes. "I asked you a question, Mudblood."
Saliva pooled in her mouth, a thousand, venomous words threatening to spill from her tongue, to lash him to shreds, but the only thing that stayed her hand was that she knew Draco was splayed before him, at the Dark Lord's mercy.
"You will answer when the Dark Lord speaks to you, filth," one of the masked Death Eaters called. The heel on her back dug in further, forcing a pained gasp out of her lungs. The rancid breath filled the airspace again, and Bellatrix's lanky hair brushed over her cheek. "Filthy fucking Mudblood, answer the Dark Lord, or I will take my time in carving you into pieces." Black spots danced in front of her vision as she tried desperately to get a breath.
Another curse shot through her limbs, and she delved into her memories to fight the pain, to block it out.
Draco's face lighting up when he'd managed to cast a Patronus the first time. Theo's cautious courting of Luna, the way he searched her out when he needed an explanation. Harry's ridiculous grin when he realized he'd caught the snitch the first time.
All of them wove together around her, the strength of them creating a lifeline that she grasped onto forcibly, refusing to let them go.
More and more came forward, fortifying her a little longer, strengthening her resolve. The longer she held out, the longer Theo and Luna had to destroy the horcrux. There was still a chance that they might have found a way out and were simply waiting for a sign from Draco and Hermione.
Distantly, she was aware of Draco's own broken screaming, the sound growing hoarse from the duration and growing pitch of it. A brief moment of reprieve allowed her to turn her head, to take in Draco's crumpled form, and she snarled, inching across the floor as Voldemort resumed his victory speech.
"When I rule, we'll move our reign beyond the magical world. No Muggles, no Mudblood filth, no more subjugating ourselves to a list of laws that force us to repress our natural dominance!" A cheer answered him, punctuated by raucous laughter.
Her limbs ached. Every last one of them felt as though they'd been forced through a wringer several times over, but she dragged herself forward, hand longing to clasp onto Draco's, to afford him strength that she herself couldn't muster.
Instead, another lashing of magic bolted through her, sending her crashing into the ground with a scream bit off through her gnashing teeth. Blood pooled on her tongue, tangy and metallic, as her teeth slammed together, her outstretched hand clenching in pain. But as Voldemort's magic pushed her to the breaking point, she felt it—a snapping of a thread, a hold breaking loose—and she knew.
Bellatrix.
And then, even more frantically: the snake.
Rolling onto her back, Hermione allowed her magic to ripple outward, a thin, protective film settling over her skin. A barely-there flicker of shock rippled over Voldemort's face before an echoing shriek thundered through the manor.
For just a moment, just a breath, movement halted. All eyes swung to the drawing room doors, even Hermione's stalling in her throat as she waited for the damning confirmation, for the killing blow.
Her magic itched. Ached to be let loose over every last one of them, and Hermione shifted gently, feigning fear in her movements as she crawled backwards and her hand slipped into the holster she'd transfigured in her trousers.
Her hand clasped over the familiar wooden length, magic shimmering up into her palm, and a movement just beyond Voldemort's emaciated frame catching her attention. The figure's distinctive lope stayed her revolt, their smattering of freckles and red hair standing out against a sickly pale pallor.
Ron stood at the edge of the ring of Death Eaters, his eyes round and expression faltering. As the shrieking grew louder, Bellatrix closing in on the room, Ron turned, his eyes locking on hers, a thousand emotions playing across his face. And she knew.
This was her Ron. The Ron she'd grown to know as a child, the one whose hand she'd held when he waited for news of Ginny when she'd been locked away in the Chamber of Secrets. The Ron she'd snuck kisses with when Harry had left them in the tent.
And a part of her heart broke all over again that he'd never truly be that Ron again, but he was here in this moment and was looking at her like the wealth of regret in his eyes was enough to stop a war.
Perhaps maybe it was.
Tilting his head at the cloaked figures around the room, he backed away, fading into the backdrop as she allowed her head to loll, searching the figures.
They dotted the room, slipping between Voldemort's followers. Their robes were shabby and most of them barely reached the floor. Bare feet peeked out from the bottom of some, but as she took in each arrival, pops of Apparition sounding one after the other, Hermione's heart settled, conviction rising within her.
As one, their wands slid out, concealed within the shadows of their counterparts, but the steel in each gaze behind the masks displayed their defiance.
The Order.
Familiar faces that she'd thought long since lost stared back at her, sorrow evident in the way they held themselves. No longer were they marked by the cautious optimism they'd held so long ago.
Now, they were jaded by war, at the end of a rope that they couldn't hold onto much longer.
This was the final stand.
They carefully arranged themselves around the Death Eaters, blocking exits strategically and wands sliding into their grasps.
Rising from the shadows, they materialised around her as the doors flung open and Bellatrix crashed into the room. "My Lord," she cried out, her voice rising into the high pitches of hysteria. "My Lord, the snake is gone."
Fear chased up Hermione's spine, her hand clenching around her wand in response, and she lost all pretenses of calm when Voldemort whirled on her, his snakelike face mottled in anger.
"Where is it?" Voldemort's lip curled as he loomed over her. When she didn't answer, he slashed his wand dangerously, a pillar shattering at the errant bolt of wandfire. "Where is Nagini?" he bellowed again, eyes wild as he advanced on her. Raising his wand, his lip curling back, he snarled, "Avada—"
"The snake is dead." A new voice, one Hermione would know absolutely anywhere.
Voldemort froze, colour draining from grey to a sickly shade of white. A stunned silence fell over the room.
Heart in her throat, Hermione wrenched herself upright, rubble digging painfully into her elbows and opening weeping wounds, but she didn't care. Let her bleed all over the floor. All that mattered was finding the source of that voice.
Frantically scanning the room, her eyes fell on each face in turn until…
Luna was there, blood and grime sprinkled over her skin, and with a heart wrenching smile, Luna stepped aside, the source of the statement stalking forward.
Harry.
"Your horcruxes are gone, Tom. All of them."
Hermione blinked, desperate to clear the tears and be sure that she wasn't imagining something in a haze of post-torture delirium. But it was him, messy hair and emerald eyes, his jaw set and serious. Harry stalked forwards, shocked whispers erupting among them, and her eyes lit on Draco, his expression shocked as Harry advanced.
"Destroyed, thanks to the Order." Harry stopped mere metres from her, and Hermione's breath caught in her throat when his gaze landed on her, a half smile playing on the edge of his lips. "Thanks to a Muggle-born, your precious reign will come to an end."
Only a ripple of magic warned her of the impending explosion of Voldemort's fury, and with a fierce cry, Hermione brought her wand up, countering the curse he threw at her with a slash of her own.
The force of Voldemort's magic rained over her, and her magic expanded outward in a dome, flickering and roiling with the darkness of the curse.
With a roar, Voldemort whirled, a bolt of magic spearing through the space where Harry stood. Lancing through where his chest would have been, the crimson flare drilled into a masked Death Eater behind him, their form falling prone to the floor.
Harry's ethereal form flickered, a victorious smile spreading across his face. He was still here, and a choked sob of relief burst from Hermione's lips. "Neither can live while the other survives, as I'm sure you remember. The curse embedded in Hermione is bound by my blood. It's she who will be your end."
Stepping forward, Luna reached into the depths of her cloaks, removing the mangled diadem from where it dangled by rope from her hip.
Theo followed, a wild smile lighting Hermione's features at the sword of Gryffindor hanging limply from his wounded hand. A slash of his own wand rippled the air in front of him. Hermione's recognised the tell-tale glimmer of the invisibility cloak, and triumph flared in her chest when Nagini's beheaded body appeared suspended before Theo.
"You see, Tom, it was never a matter of who would kill you; it was only ever a matter of when. Your kind—power-hungry, destructive forces like you—never last, and we'll be pleased to see your spirit pass through the veil." Gesturing behind him, the flickering forms of hundreds of other witches and wizards dotted the room.
James, Lily, McGonagall, Seamus… hundreds of magical beings blinked in and out of existence, but it was the last one that made her breath catch in her throat and sent tears spilling over at Draco's broken sob.
"It was a pleasure to defy you, Tom." Narcissa.
The regal woman stalked forward, her wounds gone in death and her clothing the opulent finery she'd preferred in life. "And to bring a little humanity back to this world." Nariccsa nodded to Ron, who was kneeling with a grimace, a sheen of sweat glistening on his face while he cradled the remnants of Slytherin's locket in one hand and the stone in the other, a basilisk fang at his feet. "We will greet you on the other side."
Messages delivered, the spectral forms blinked out of existence, and chaos erupted in the room.
Wandfire sang through the air, the remaining Order members throwing their hoods from their heads and stepping forward, their wands raised in defiance. Neville, Kingsley, and Charlie Weasley rounded on Bellatrix, the wand she'd stolen from the fallen Death Eater flashing angrily before her.
Rising, Hermione tried to take inventory of the room, but spells flashed haphazardly, shouts echoing across the tiled floor and through the vaulted ceiling.
Voldemort stood frozen, staring at the corpse of his beloved snake, his followers fighting to the death around him.
Elder Wand in hand, Hermione stalked forward, cutting down those in her path as she closed in on the Dark Lord. She felt the swish and flick of her wand like a blade, felt her body rolling through combative stances and firing hexes back at those who foolishly thought they could fight back, blazing a trail to the Dark Lord with ripples of black magic coiling around her.
And then Draco was at her side, the dueling around them falling away from her consciousness as Order members and Death Eaters clashed together. At her side, Draco fired spell after spell at those that tried to slow her approach to the Dark Lord, his smile slipping as she advanced.
Canting her head to the side, Hermione smiled at Voldemort. Above her, the repaired chandelier shone brightly, the reminder of Harry's death in this very spot stark in her mind as she allowed her magic to dance along her fingertips. Hermione shifted into a battle stance, allowing the glamor to fall away on the wand.
Any remaining colour in the man's face drained away, his eyes round. For the first time since Hermione had been captured, fear shone true in his snake-like irises.
A/N: Ack I'm sorry it's another cliffhanger. Honestly there's so much that has to happen that the end could all be one giant chapter but I have to break it somewhere and I'm sorry for all the cliffs! Also... Harry was actually dead. I know there were so many theories that he was alive, and though you do get to see him, he is truly dead, so I'm sorry if you were hoping otherwise. Merp. I'll be back next Tuesday with the next installment! In the meantime, thank you for reading, and thank you to my wonderful alpha, LadyKenz347, and beta, tofadeawayagain, for their time.
