Author's Note:
I truly am sorry that this has taken me so incredibly long to update. But as it is, here have come to the final chapter at last! I have decided against splitting this into three chapters, so one extremely long chapter it remains.
Read at your own risk.
THE LAST BATTLE
Kill Ron…
Kill Ron...
How the hell was she going to get out of it this time? She had no wand to conjure up a weasel. Nobody else to command her to believe the weasel was named Ron.
Kill Ron…
Her body shook as she edged only the slightest amount closer to him.
Kill Ron…
Viktor said only to kill him. He didn't say when. I don't have to do it now...I can do it in an hour, or a day, or a hundred years—I could kill Viktor first—
But the curse wasn't that stupid.
The desire to obey was so strong that she couldn't stop herself from inching forward. Just like how her legs behaved when Malfoy had commanded her to go up to her room but Ron wanted to talk to her on the stairs.
Her eyes pleaded with Ron's earnest ones to stop her.
"You're not going to kill me, Hermione. It's okay, Just breathe," Ron whispered to her in a deep, even voice. He was still kneeling in front of her as she stood, shivering.
At once, like a sigh of relief, her limbs stopped shaking.
"Kill Viktor."
Like lightning, she turned to obey Ron, slashing into Viktor's skin, aiming for his throat—
"Stop!"
Viktor raised the two wands in his hands, one at Ron, and one at Hermione. But at Hermione, all he said was "Lower the knife, Her-mione."
She lowered it.
"Stab yourself."
She turned the knife on herself, trying with all her might to disobey, but the knife was brought away from her body, ready to plunge into her stomach—
"Don't do it!" Ron shouted.
The knife hovered in the air.
Viktor just smirked. "Throw the knife at your boyfriend."
Hermione brought it back in an arc, trying to slow this madness, giving Ron enough time to intervene—
"Bring me the knife, Hermione," said Ron.
Something wasn't right. Confused, she walked towards him. Viktor let her, and instead, he...laughed.
"I could tell you not to listen to him, but this game is...entertaining. Let's see how far ve can take her, shall ve, Veasley?"
Ron reddened and swore at Viktor.
"Don't obey him, Hermione!" Ron shouted. "Obey only me, don't do anything he says—"
"You clumsy, insolent fool," Viktor snarled. "I made her! You think that matters not? It vas my blade that injected her, and my orders she is made to carry out. Her-mione, kill him!"
Shaking, her steps brought her closer to Ron, daring to go as slow as she possibly could, but something...something...something was wrong…
"Please stop," Ron said, quietly but evenly. She loved how he said 'please' even though she was forced to obey anyway. The look in his eyes was worried at Krum's insinuations that his commands trumped Ron's, but when Ron spoke to her, his voice was kind and even. "The only person you can hurt tonight is Krum. You don't have to do anything he says."
But she had to, didn't he understand? The will to obey Viktor was driving her mad, far more than when she was forced to obey Ron or others.
Kill Ron, kill Viktor, kill Ron, kill Viktor…
Commands repeated in her head, and it was pulsing in pain, and her body kept shaking, and she didn't know why—
She turned to Viktor. To kill him? To obey him? To be ordered?
"You vill not hurt me, little bitch," he said. "You can't even tell me 'No'…in fact...I think it's time ve up the ante a little. There is a reason vhy nobody lasted long under this curse, you know. They say it can drive people mad….drive them to their deaths..."
He walked closer, both wands out, eyes wicked as he stared at her.
"Cut yourself, Her-mione."
"No—" Ron struggled behind her, and she stopped.
"Again." Viktor stated, and Ron's next cry came too late to stop her from digging the blade into her hand.
"Now...cut yourself again...vithout hurting yourself, Her-mione." The contempt in Krum's voice would have killed Hermione on the spot, had it been a spell.
Confusion tore through her. How could she follow through? To cut herself was to hurt herself. She didn't have a wand or magic at all to numb the area first. How could she possibly obey…?
But she wasn't the brightest witch at Hogwarts for nothing. She raised the blade to her hair, slicing off a lock by her face. Brown strands fluttered to the floor.
The admiration in Viktor's eyes was not consoling.
"Kill Ron vithout killing him," he said next.
Then Hermione understood what he was doing.
He was breaking her.
Her body started shaking. Her eyes couldn't focus. The command repeated itself in her head. Again, again, again. She couldn't obey him. Something was wrong with her. He gave her a command and she couldn't obey him. Something was wrong!
Her head flushed wildly hot, and she was aware of the ceiling and the floor coming together and crashing—just as blackness surrendered her vision—and the command drilled itself into her core, commanding her, commanding her, commanding her to obey—
—she had to obey, she had to obey, she had to obey—
—commanding her, commanding her, commanding her, commanding her—
I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey. I have to obey—
Sirius Black was in his element.
Not that he loved the blood and gore that battle brought (the nasty-smelling stuff his canine senses abhorred). But really, when you got into the heat of things, adrenaline pumping…(especially after being cooped up and forced to be in hiding for...well...years, really…)
This was all really rather fun.
His back was to his lovely Letha's and hers was to him as they took on their old battle stances from the first war. They worked in tandem, firing curses left and right, covering each other's backs, using each other to propel them towards the enemy, even fighting each other's opponents to keep switching things up and disarm them.
Merlin's balls, he'd missed this.
And when that slimy little rat tried slipping away from the fray…
Well.
He licked his chops as a dog would at a juicy mutton.
Things just got a hell of a lot better.
Ron watched it all in shocked horror.
Hermione had collapsed to the floor, eyes rolled to the back of her head, her body jerking and twitching—
Still on his knees, Ron wrestled with his invisible binds, struggling to go to her. To stop her from hurting herself—
Viktor watched it all, and laughed.
"Angorio Cruor…" he said. "It spreads like Fiendfyre, seeking both those of non-magical blood and those of very faint traces like Muggleborns and Squibs. It compels them to obey vhen a command is given. This curse is, incidentally, vhat made Muggles turn on vizards centuries ago."
He looked at Ron, who was watching Hermione in stunned terror and didn't even bother to yell at the bastard.
"What's happening to her?" Ron asked, alarmed.
"A rather nasty...side-effect of the curse, if you vill. The more people tell her vhat to do...the more commands she is given...the more commands she cannot fulfill...it drives her insane. Turns her crazy. The vill to obey is so strong that if she can't do a command...her body shuts down and turns on itself. Attacks itself. Her mind cannot comprehend disobedience. It is now driving her mad. She's already been in her own personal hell for a veek now because others kept forcing her to obey. Countless others...the more people commanding her, the more the Curse kills her. It is killing her now. She has mere minutes. And it is all thanks to you, Veasley. So tell me...just how many people have commanded her to obey in the past veek?"
Horrified, Ron stared at the seizing girl on the stone floor as he thought about the dozens of times she was inadvertently told to do something by classmates, teachers, friends, Harry...him...
And then Ron did what he never before thought possible.
Instead of hurling useless words and curses and insults at the slimy bastard…
Ron pleaded with him.
"Please, please, just stop hurting her," he whispered, anguished. "You can take her pain away—you can heal her. You can take the Curse off! Her life is in your hands. She loved you!"
"WRONG!" Viktor raised his voice for the first time since Ron had ever known him. "She loved you. The entire time I vas vith her, she vas pining after you, looking after you, only caring for you. She only used me to get to you. This selfish little bint deserves everything I've ever done to her!"
His statements slammed into Ron like the Hogwarts Express. Reeling, Ron could only blink.
She'd been...she'd been…
What?
She loved...me? She was pining after...me? Looking after...me? Only caring…
For me?
The elation at this, the exclamations of jubilance, the dances and the cheers and the extraordinary happiness at his arch-enemy's words—
They all halted.
Taking care of Hermione was the most important thing right now.
Ron wouldn't stop—he couldn't stop—until Krum helped her.
"V-Viktor...please...I'm sorry she didn't love you...please just forgive her...show mercy...you already won. Voldemort has the gifts and their power, he already took her magic, you already tortured her, please just fix her and leave her alone!"
Nothing gave on the Death Eater's face as Hermione slowly stopped seizing, her body growing more still...twitching...
"Please," Ron tried again, broken, "...Please, please just fix her—I'll do anything—"
There was an explosion that rocked them where they stood. Shouts in the hall beyond them. Ron was torn between hope and despair. They could be Aurors…or Death Eaters.
But Krum wasn't waiting to find out.
He strode over and picked up the now limp Hermione bridal-style, and the terror whining in Ron's ears increased. Krum couldn't take her with—he couldn't take her with—
"Krum, no! No! Don't—"
Krum hit Ron with a silencer as he strode out of the room, to a door in the back with stairs that led down to the dungeons. Ron struggled to move out of his position, his knees still painfully stuck to the floor when Krum slashed him. He had to find a way out of this—he had to—
And what was more—when Krum leaned over to pick up Hermione, Ron had seen the diamonds of the Ravenclaw diadem flash in the light.
Krum had the Founders' Gifts.
The key to stopping Voldemort.
Another explosion, and an unsteadied Ron fell forward, though his knees still stayed magically stuck to the floor. The blast also made his cloak fluttered closer to him from where it was lying abandoned on the floor that he gave to Hermione.
And then he saw it.
A Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes product tumbled slightly out of an inner pocket, and Ron's eyes widened. Peruvian Darkness Powder that he bought at his brothers' shop ages ago. Could it help…?
Good Godric, if I could only find a way out of this binding spell…
And then the heavens listened.
Godric Gryffindor's sword, said to only obey true Gryffindors at their moments of need, materialized right in front of him. Aghast, Ron seized it, uttering a string of gratitude to Godric Gryffindor for making the blessed thing. It cut through the fabric at his knees with no trouble, and the rest of the spell gave way to the magical blade.
Ron ran forward to his cloak, and grabbed the Peruvian powder, before dashing to the door where Krum had taken Hermione. Heart pumping, he barely registered the booms and shakings around him as the ruined castle became even more ruined.
His eye was single to the target in front of him—the back of Viktor Krum as he took a step down the stairs—Ron was twenty feet away—fifteen—ten—but Ron wouldn't make it in time before Krum disappeared from view—there was no way Ron was letting Hermione out of his sight again, even for a second—damn that bastard—
"OH NO YOU DON'T!" he roared.
Krum stopped, foot hovering over the edge of the dark stone stairs.
Ron threw the powder.
Darkness.
Blackness.
Chaos.
Crashes and bangs that sounded close at first, then grew farther away.
And then light.
A bright light was emanting from the Sword of Gryffindor, and Ron stared at it, amazed. 'The sword takes in that which makes it stronger'...he'd only heard Hermione say it a million times while they researched the Founders' Gifts. So that must be why the blade was glowing like a bloody nightlight even in the wake of the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, where light spells failed against it.
This sword is bloody brilliant.
Still admiring, he held it aloft.
Krum and Hermione were no longer in front of him. Ron held it high, rushing forwards, down the stairs, where he saw in the distance a horrible scene was now laid at the bottom of hundreds of steps.
Ron's heart stopped at the bloody sight.
Luna Lovegood had chosen a Thestral as her noble steed. She sat atop him and galloped through the warground, firing spells wherever she saw it was needed. Mostly to stop the more evil creatures from hurting the nicer ones. House-elves were running and popping everywhere, in and out of the battle, in and out as they saved the good guys, bringing them to safety-even grabbing a Death Eater and poping him to the edge of a cliff. Quite a few strangled cries could be heard as they fell into the raging North Sea around them.
She really loved the North Sea. It was pretty here. Maybe she would come back when this was all over.
Not when it was covered in Death Eaters and evil things...she shuddered. No. To study it. When it was calm and peaceful. And with the last of the Quintapeds finally falling down, perhaps...perhaps….
Perhaps she could live here. With the Thestrals. And restore the Crumple-Horned Snorkack to its rightful hunting grounds in the northern isles.
She shot a spell at a Death Eater, locking his legs together till he fell down before Percy Weasley.
But first she had to help rid the land of the evil.
The great wizard Merlin would be most pleased that his tomb on this island could rest easily once again.
Hermione swam back into consciousness from the deepest, blackest depths. She was being carried. And Ron's voice…
Ron.
Her heart fluttered at the mention of his name. Ron...
Ron's voice came at her from far away, startling her out of the depths of her mind just as it was starting to doze off again. But Ron wasn't holding her.
Her cheek was pressed up against the Ravenclaw diadem, sticking out of a man's robe.
His face finally came into focus. Viktor.
She tried to get out of his arms, realizing with horror and disgust just how out of it she had been. His grip on her body tightened, however, and he was taking her away from Ron, who was running towards them, too far away, a look of unadulterated fury on his face. And then Ron threw something.
Darkness surrounded them both and, all too belatedly, Hermione realized they'd been standing on the edge of the stairs.
They fell.
Stairs and body parts swirled around her as her vision blackened.
When she finally opened her eyes and the world stopped falling out around her, she was staring right into Viktor's eyes.
His full weight was on top of hers.
He was blocking her from moving.
Pinning her down.
His hands were tightly gripping her hair.
"Her...mione…" he said, breathing ragged.
She could taste copper.
Something metallic and sticky.
It dripped out of his mouth and down her face.
Shaking, she realized it was blood.
And it was all over him.
"You'll alvays...be...the most beautiful...of all…" he gasped out.
And so it was that Viktor Krum lowered his head to kiss her.
His lips were soft and soundless, reminding her very much of the drops of blood falling on her now, and she stiffened in his arms.
He could feel her rejecting him, turning her head and trying to scream, igniting this sudden burst of hatred within her.
And all at once, his lips opened up, his tongue forced itself into her mouth, their bodies kept touching, her skin was on fire...
And Hermione Jean Granger was very afraid.
Ginny blocked yet another Killing Curse, and aimed her wand at her dad's attacker.
Rodolphus Lestrange went down.
Startled, Dad looked around to see what had happened, but was soon locked in another battle with yet another Death Eater, helping poor Bill out, and Ginny looked wildly around to see how more she could be of help.
Silently slipping around the edges of battle in Harry's Invisibility Cloak was amazing, to say the least. She already took out a dozen Death Eaters, and had split Voldemort's attention numerous times, though her spells never could reach him.
The Order members were fighting the Death Eaters with a fury beyond which she'd never seen. Dumbledore's death had been sudden and shocking, and really had only stoked the fire beneath them all.
Sirius and Letha were battling Wormtail, Severus Snape was still acting as double-agent, firing frequent misses at the Order and secretly slaying his fellow Death Eaters when nobody but Ginny could see. Lupin and Jones were fighting Greyback and numerous werewolves, McGonagall had taken on around four different Death Eaters, as had Flitwick. Hagrid had even taken on an entire Quintaped by himself. As for Grawp and Goldie and Norberta and the house-elves...they were their own force to be reckoned with.
Harry, however…
Harry needed the help more than anyone. He wasn't losing, per se...but he wasn't exactly winning either. His battle was long and drawn out, and Harry seemed to be hiding more often than not. Almost like…
Like he was biding his time.
More than anything, Ginny wanted to go towards him, to talk to him in between spells, but knew it would be deadly and detrimental. There was no way he could lose against Voldemort.
And so she went back to sneaking behind Voldmort, trying to move stones into his path to make him stumble when she could...making the ground beneath him fall when she couldn't…
And saving the lives around her in between.
Ron saw the blood around both of the bodies—but whose was it—
He heard her muffled screams and ran down the stairs as fast as he could. He almost fell down the steps himself, trying to get to her in time. Was she—did damn Krum—
And then he got to the bottom of the dungeon staircase, where they both lay in a puddle of deep red blood.
The stench of it was thick in the air, and his heart just about came out in bile at the thought of it being Hermione's—
Her sobbing reached his ears, and he saw the full extent of the situation.
Dumbledore's wand—nigh unbreakable, made almost of steel—was lodged straight into Krum's neck, its point sticking out of the other side, running through the entire length of his neck—its fifteen inches completely smeared in blood.
Aghast, Ron could only stare.
That was not a normal wand.
No normal wand could do that.
It would snap right in half, let alone slicing through muscle and sinew without splintering.
Only a really special wand could slize through a man's neck, killing him. Only one wand in the history of...ever...could do that.
His jaw dropped as he realized the extent of the wand in front of him.
It was the Elder Wand.
Myths, legends, stories, rumors jumbled around his mind.
But then Hermione let out a muffled sob, and realization snapped him back from his thoughts of power.
A quaking, terrified Hermione was trapped under the body, and when Ron rolled Krum off his girl, they both saw he was very bloody and very, very dead.
Relief flooded Ron and he collapsed beside her, drawing the shivering girl into his arms.
Krum's blood was seeping into her white dress, her hair, even around her mouth, and all Ron could think of to do was wipe at it with his sleeves and put his own mouth on hers to get that bastard's taste and smell off her as she sobbed.
"It's all right...it's all right...I've got you, Hermione…" he whispered into her thick curls.
No bloody dictionary could ever come up with the words to describe how he felt when he saw that bloody bastard carrying her away. Merlin, was he glad the effing git was dead…
How long they stayed that way, her sobbing into his shirt, he had no clue. He didn't want to disturb her, but time really was of the essence…
"Thank you, Ron...thank you…" she cried. "If you hadn't...if you…"
"You can stop thanking me now," he said with a rueful grin. "Merlin, Hermione, you brought me back from the dead. It's the least I could do, saving you from that evil git."
"No, but really, thank you, Ron!" she said, still sniffling. "For everything! I couldn't have—you're just—you're magnificent!"
"Hermione—" he drew back, looking at her red-streaked, tear-stained face, her hair a bloody mess. "The curse! I told you not to thank me, and you did it anyway! Is it broken? Say 'yes'."
But all she did was give him a brilliant, teary smile. It was enough.
The Angorian Curse was gone.
He drew her in close again, holding her tight against him as she gave a relieved, giddy laugh.
"The curse—what happened—is it because Krum is dead and it was his knife? You were having a seizure and then...Merlin, I thought you were dead..."
"I think I almost was," she whispered. "But I woke up before we fell down the stairs. Ron, I think it was...I think it was Ravenclaw's diadem!"
"You think it healed you? Because you were touching it?"
"Perhaps? And now that Viktor is d-dead…"
"You're free," he whispered, more relieved than he'd felt in his life. He leaned in and kissed her again, gathering her in his arms, relishing in the feel of her, how alive she was, how uncursed she now was...
"Ron, that powder you threw at him was...was...magnificent! The way you fought him, it was...was...wow…"
"I still lost," he said darkly. "With the Elder Wand and everything. I thought it was supposed to be unbeatable."
"Not...not necessarily," she hesitated. "Otherwise Dumbledore would never have been able to defeat Grindelwald. It is exceptionally powerful...but it isn't undefeatable. It transfers loyalty instantly and without hesitation if it is removed from its owner's hand by force. It's loyalty went to Viktor because it saw he was more powerful. Strange that...that it actually killed him...in the end..."
"Not powerful anymore, is he?" Ron said snidely, looking over at the bloody corpse.
Not wanting to break apart from her, he knew he had to.
Walking over to Krum, he warned Hermione not to watch him, and waited till her head was turned before he forcibly pulled Dumbledore's wand out from Krum's neck. Almost instantly, the Elder Wand cleaned itself of blood as the red stains just disappeared. Hungrily, he stared its power, feeling it pulsing through his fingers.
It knew he was its master.
He had defeated Krum.
He had defeated Dumbledore.
He had defeated death.
The Elder Wand now belonged to him.
"Hermione...we really do need to go…" he finally whispered.
Almost immediately, she drew up, hands shakily brushing her curls out of her eyes. "R-r-right...right...Harry and...y-yes, that…" she said, speechless for once. "Ron, I...I don't think I can walk...you should take them...you should leave me and go...Harry needs you…"
"Harry needs both of us," Ron said with a smile. "And I reckon this should make you feel right as rain."
He pulled out the Ravenclaw diadem from the bastard's robes and gingerly put it on her head.
They waited, breaths held.
At first, nothing happened.
"I don't…" she started to say. Then, "Whoa!"
And there in the middle of the hallway, amidst a corpse and pools of blood, looking very much the worse for wear, Hermione started glowing.
Ron backed up in awe, her aura getting brighter and brighter. Color returned to her cheeks, her eyes livened up, she was breathing normally again…
"I can feel its power," she breathed. "Ron, it...it's magnificent…"
He was almost afraid to touch her, as brightly as she was glowing. The air around them was swirling around, entrapping them in its own cyclone, but there was no fear as he looked upon his Hermione. Only love and adoration.
She stood up, looking very much rejuvenated, and the glowing died down, the diadem having done its work. The billowing breeze slowed to a halt and their loud breaths echoed in the quietened room.
"Well, then…" Ron's voice echoed around them, the grin on his face bigger than he'd ever felt it. "You've got your magic again...you've got the Ravenclaw gift...I've got the sword and a wand...oh, you should grab his wand, Hermione...we've got the other two gifts right here. Now. Let's go save the world."
He walked over to the corpse and gripped the other two Founders' Gifts tight in his hands, pulling them out of the dead body.
"Ow, damn."
"What is it?"
"Nothing, just a bit of blood. The necklace nicked me, is all. Let's go."
Founders' Gifts in hand, Ron walked back over and picked up the Sword of Gryffindor where he'd set it on the steps.
Blood met steel.
His sword. His birthright. Centuries of his ancestors' magic flowed into him all at once.
And Ron, the Heir of Gryffindor, became ensconced in fire.
Harry sent another stunner, then let go of his shield at the same time that Voldemort cast yet another curse, and rolled to the pillar nearest him.
Green curse streaks flew past him, smashing into stone. More followed suit, closer to his head. Harry deflected them, using the spells dear old Moony taught the D.A.
I have to do this. I have to end this.
Harry took a deep breath to give him more courage, and stood up.
"You really don't get it, do you?" Harry said, finally stepping out into full view of Voldemort and the Death Eaters that had come to watch. A shimmering red shield was around him. Protecting him.
He hoped.
"You're not the 'best', you're not a lord, you're not even pureblood. And what's even more," Harry finished, laughing. "You don't even have the power of the Founders' Gifts. You're nothing but a slithering liar."
His words stilled Voldemort's hand, poised in its next strike. "What?" hissed the Slytherin. "Do you need me to demonstrate?"
"By all means, please go ahead," Harry said in mock joviality. "You wouldn't do much, I can guarantee. As thick as you are, you really have no effing clue, do you? Shall I enlighten you?"
Harry might have taken it a step too far.
The glint in Voldemort's eyes was dangerous indeed, and the only reason the evil Git Lord didn't curse him on the spot was because he truly was interested in what Harry had to say.
Harry continued. "You've known ever since the ritual that it didn't work, haven't you? Right flumoxed as to why, aren't you? You did everything right. Down to the last hiccup. When things didn't go according to plan—after all, there was no luminous Dark Lord, no beaming brightly brigand—all you could do was stall for time. So you picked a fight with Dumbledore and did what anyone in your disgusting boots could do and sent your little beasties to do the job for you," Harry said.
The fury on Voldemort's face said it all.
But Harry wasn't finished. "You spilled Gryffindor's blood on your damned portal. You spilled Hufflepuff's blood. You spilled Ravenclaw's blood. But you didn't spill Slytherin's because it wasn't yours to spill. You know why? Because you're not the Heir of Slytherin anymore."
Voldemort's eye slits narrowed. This was news to him, apparently.
Harry watched the cogs in the white bald head turn. "You're getting there, aren't you? Remembering your first ritual that went according to plan? Yeah...that one...that's right...where you got that body in the first place...you took the bones of your dead father...you took the flesh of your servant...and you took my blood. Slytherin's 'royal' blood doesn't flow through your veins anymore...mine does."
"Impossible," Voldemort hissed.
"The only reason the portal started up was because Draco was there. He's the real Heir of Slytherin. Not you!"
"Liar!" Voldemort said, then brought up his wand and sent out a jet of pure hatred that slashed straight through Harry's measly shield. Harry barely threw his wand up in time.
Red met green and a river of energy sizzled in the air, locking them in this monumental combat.
Draco Malfoy didn't know what to do. How he got in this position. How he was going to get out of it.
He threw another curse at Goyle and Crabbe, and dodged their retaliations yet again. How did he get here? Fighting against his two...former...friends? He didn't even know when he lost Luna or the other Weasleys and Order...people. The ones he used to hate but now was afraid to be away from.
Death Eaters were vicious against their enemies. But against their own kind who turned against them…
They all wanted him dead.
Crabbe and Goyle just happened to find him first.
"Greg, just give it up!" he shouted from hiding behind a dead Quintaped's corpse. "I don't want to hurt you, all right? I just want to talk!"
His use of his classmate's first name (that he never really did use, even when they were friends) seemed to do the trick. There was a halt in their ceasefire.
Cautious, he stuck his head out, and looked.
It was a mistake.
A hex knocked him backward, and he flew in the air, head over feet. He landed, flat on his back, completely winded. Not winded enough, however, s the moment they came into view, Malfoy was hexing and jinxing his way back onto his feet.
"You filthy blood traitor!" Crabbe snarled, in between shouting Unforgivable Curses that Draco was thankfully able to avoid. "You should be hanged for this! I would never turn my back on my people!"
His words cut into Draco far deeper than he would ever have admitted.
"I wasn't the one who switched loyalties. Voldemort was! He was never on our side, or he wouldn't have killed my parents. He's only loyal to himself," he told them, dodging another spell. "You can come with me, you know. Just stop fighting—"
He threw another non-verbal curse in their direction, when a huge roar of pain met his ears. His head snapped around, to where Goyle was holding a horribly bloodied stump of an arm. His hand had been severed from Draco's cutting curse, a mutilated limb now decaying on the forest floor.
Appalled, Draco just stared.
Crabbe wasn't so kind.
Draco was thrown backwards for the umpteenth time that night. His stolen wand disappeared in the woods.
And then he saw something he'd never seen before.
Hermione Granger walked toward the three of them…
And saved him.
Crabbe raised a Killing Curse Draco's way, but Granger non-verbally cast him down before he'd even began the first syllable.
She looked...different. Odd...and different.
Granger summoned Draco's wand back, and gave it to him.
Startled, Draco stared. Granger has magic again?
At once, Draco held his wand up, ready to defend himself—
Granger just chided him with her eyes. "You really think we want to attack you? We need you, you git. You're the chosen Heir of Slytherin. You can help us defeat Voldemort. I just need your blood first."
"My blood?" he asked. "No."
Befre he even finished the word, however, Granger raised her wand and slashed his cheek. "Hey!"
"Serves you right for being a git and trying to lock me in my tower. Viktor still got to me, thank you. And made all of this come about. But you can make it right by taking in Slytherin's power.
She held something for him in her hand.
It was Slytherin's Locket.
Meghan's concentration never broke during the battle.
Spells flew around her, though she was sheltered and protected in her little shielded alcove that her Dadfoot and Mama Letha had hastily erected and guarded for her. She knew she and Neville were protected. So she had no reason to fear. No reason to break her concentration in summoning Neville's spirit back to his body.
His spirit had not been far from his body, really.
It had been protected. Safe. Just...in hiding…
And now that Ron Weasley had come back to her, bringing back Hufflepuff's goblet, Neville's spirit was ready to be put back in.
And thanks to her, Neville's body and magic was more than willing to accept it.
Watching the swirly, milky substance pour from the goblet and into Neville's mouth was...fascinating.
Fascinating but kinda gross.
"Did it work?" Weasley whispered, after countless seconds had gone by and Neville still hadn't moved.
A quick glare from Meghan sufficed.
"Oh, Neville, wake up...please wake up…" Meghan whispered, gripping the prone boy's hand. Weasley stood behind her awkwardly, unsure of what to do.
It worked.
His eyelids opened, and then he sat up, and at once Meghan squealed and threw her arms around him, knocking him back down again.
"Nev!" Weasley breathed.
"Are you all right?" Meghan asked, worried.
"I...uh...yeah…" Neville said, confused. "What happened?"
"You almost died. Nothing we couldn't fix. I did die, you know. Doesn't keep very well," Ron explained rather hastily. "But we have more important things to do. Come with us, Nev. We're going to go save the world."
Neville gulped. "Save...the world?"
"Yep. But first, we need to prick your finger. And give you back what is rightfully yours."
Harry couldn't do this anymore.
His every will was spent, every fiber of his being burnt out by this constant battle, completely exhausted by the effort contained in holding up his wand.
And then he heard a voice in his head.
A miraculous, infinitely preternatural voice.
It was Dumbledore.
Harry.
You're alive!
I am a Phoenix Animagus, Harry. I have gone through rebirth.
The jubilation Harry felt at these words was beyond expression.
Dumbledore's voice chortled inside of him. Yes, Harry, I can tell. Now. Listen to what I am about to tell you. Then follow my steps exactly.
A glimpse of light could be seen just past Voldemort's face, and Harry relished the warmth, letting it fill him up as it began to cast the darkness away.
The sun was rising.
Dumbledore was alive.
And Merlin abroad, did he have some news for Harry.
"Give up, Harry Potter," said Voldemort. "You cannot win. Let me end you and I will deal with your friends sparingly."
Harry had to admit, it was a rather tempting offer.
But Dumbledore's story in his mind was beautiful beyond anything he'd ever heard before.
And then he heard his friends in his mind too—saw them out of the corner of his eye—and knew it was time. The jet stream between them in its rosy and veridian hues was crackling from the force of the two brother wands locked in their battle.
"You know why you can never win?" Harry asked.
Behind Voldemort's right side, he saw Ron give the goblet of Hufflepuff to Neville and Neville cut his finger on it. His body started glowing and the ground began to rumble.
"It's because you've never known love," Harry continued.
Behind Voldemort's left side, he saw Hermione give the locket of Slytherin to Draco, who took it with blood on his hand. Draco began to glow and of a sudden, the seas rose up to meet them, crashing with great force just feet from them.
"And since you've never known love, you could never understand that the power that Merlin was guarding, that he in turn gave to the Founders to guard, was a child," Harry stated.
But he mustn't get too cocky now. Far too much was at stake.
"It wasn't a weapon," Harry continued, scoffing. "It wasn't a great spell, not even a special magic. It was Merlin's son. He loved his son so much, loved his grandchildren, his great-grandchildren, all of his bloodline so much that he knew he would never stop protecting them. He made the gifts to protect the bloodline. All he did was ask the Founders to take care of his son after he died. And his heirs went down the line until...I was born."
Voldemort's entire being seized up.
"I am what your precious gifts are guarding. What you've been wasting your time to find. They will not work against me. Which means that you...cannot...touch...me..." Harry said. "I'll even prove it to you."
And with a force greater than he'd ever before achieved in his life, Harry brought his wand up.
Voldemort's killing curse struck Harry full in his head.
Right where his scar was.
And Harry was blown backwards.
Blinking, he stared up at the pink, orange and gold streaks from the rising sun as they were smeared across the sky by an unseen painter's brush.
There were screams around him.
And as he got up, they only intensified.
He faced Voldemort with a peaceful look on his face as Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Draco came to stand by him. The Founders' Gifts flush against their skin were glowing brightly.
The astonishment on the ugly, white face before him was almost laughable.
Almost.
"And what's more…" Harry continued as Ginny walked up behind him and gave him the Invisibility Cloak. Ron, next to him, held up the Elder Wand. Hermione, on his other side, raised the Resurrection Stone high in the air.
Voldemort saw them all and for the very first time…
Harry saw fear in his eyes.
"...is that we did all of this right from under your nose," Harry stated matter-of-factly. "We have the Deathly Hallows...not you. We have the Founders' Gifts...not you. We have the Founders' power...not you. And all your little Horcruxes running about...they're all gone. Including the one you never knew about, hiding away in my head. You killed that one, actually, just now. Thanks for that. And now all that's left...is little...old...you."
For possibly the first time in his life, Voldemort was at a loss for words. Speechless. Stunned into submission.
Now was a pretty good time to act.
Harry brought his wand up.
"Expelliarmus!" He shouted.
Voldemort's wand soared in an arc to him, and Harry deftly caught it with his wandless hand, bringing both brother wands down to point at the Dark Lord.
Then as one, each of them used their newfound powers against their foe.
With the force of the Deathly Hallows and the Founders' Gifts combined—
Voldemort roared as his body began to disentegrate.
His skin peeled right off his body as he sunk to his knees from the force of the hurricane winds that Hermione was whipping around him with Ravenclaw's power.
His blood seemed to boil and seep out of every pore as Draco commanded the water in Voldemort's blood to do his bidding with Slytherin's power.
His flesh was on fire, the red-hot licking flames burning and melting every muscle and sinew from the Ron's might of Gryffindor's power.
His bones crumbled away into dust from Neville's forceful fist, and Harry could see he was making the earth shake ferociously, unsettling the cliff face Voldemort was standing on from Hufflepuff's power.
And then the Heir of Merlin concentrated his own magic.
A bright light streamed out of both of Harry's wands.
It shattered any remnant of the man that once stood before them—
—scattering the darkness—
—banishing any soul that could have remained.
And it was then that Tom Riddle, the former Lord Voldemort, gave up the ghost.
The ground was black where he had stood.
As if it had been struck by lightning.
Or like a bomb had gone off inside him…
Detonating from within.
Ashes and wisps of what once were now fluttering in the wind.
Harry stared in utter disbelief.
He couldn't believe it.
They had won.
The sun was shining brightly on them as they took stock of everything that had happened.
Exhausted, tired, sleepy, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked over to the edge of the cliff. Rather avoiding the charcoaled place of Voldemort's untimely demise, they went to the far edge of the portal and sat on the portal's stone steps, looking out over the east, where the sun was hovering just above the horizon, the ocean glimmering in reddish hues as it welcomed the brightly beaming light.
The hell that had been Halloween was finally over with.
Harry's face turned upwards, soaking in the sun's rays, a peace settling in his soul that he had never before known.
"I can't believe he's finally gone," Ron said, arm around Hermione, a tired half-grin on his features.
Hermione snuggled into the crook of his arm, almost purring her pleasure at being with her man, both of them alive and well. "Mmm," she murmured in agreement, for once finding no need for words.
Harry grinned at both of them. They looked so content sitting there, and he knew he would never tire of seeing them together, seeing them happy. Not when they both lost so much.
A pang hit his heart at the thought of what they all lost. Freedom had its own price to pay, and theirs came at the cost of several lives.
Grawp had died. That alone was enough to dash his spirits all over again. And it wasn't just him. Moody's body was discovered underneath a pile of rubble. Elphias Doge. Penelope Clearwater, girlfriend to Percy, who'd come to join in their fight. Countless other Aurors that Harry had vaguely heard about, but didn't know the names of. Draco's parents. Hermione's parents. And...
Hermione sat up a bit and looked at him. "How is Dumbledore?" she asked tentatively.
With a start, he realized his connection with her was still open...and she had just heard everything he'd been broadcasting. They both had.
"They took him back to Hogwarts. To the hospital wing," he answered. His own connection with Dumbledore was open and he was sending as much strength and magic as he could in the hopes that it would help. "Madam Pomfrey has her work cut out for her, but they are sending their best healers over as well."
"Why not send him to Mungo's, then?" Ron asked.
"Hogwarts' magic," said Harry simply. "His magic is so tied into the castle's that we knew it would be the best place for him by far. It will take some time...but he's strong. And powerful. I have a sneaking suspicion that he's not going anywhere."
"A Phoenix Animagus then…" Ron snorted. "That's just bloody brilliant. Figures, really. Trust the old man to one-up everyone yet again."
They sat comfortably again, content to just...be.
"What happened anyway?" said Harry. "In the castle ruins? You came back looking right bloody, Hermione, I thought…"
"It wasn't my blood," she said quietly. "We...I...the Elder Wand, rather...killed Viktor."
Harry was taken aback by this pronouncement. "You...what?"
She and Ron went into the whole story, going into the parts Harry missed about the ritual and Krum's capture of them as well. When they finished, he was completely staggered.
Merlin abroad, did they go through hell and back last night.
"Harry?" Hermione said. "There is one thing I don't understand…."
"Yeah?"
"If Voldemort had your blood, that would have made him Merlin's Heir too, wouldn't it? How come the gifts worked on him?"
A grin split across his face. "Oh, come on, Hermione...brightest out of our year, and all that rot…"
Ron started cracking up. "Even I know this one, Hermione…."
She scoffed at their laughter at her expense. "Oh, come on, you both don't have to be so rude…"
"No, Hermione. We do. Really...we do. You really need to be taken down a peg or two or you get all...justified, and holier-than-thou, you know."
"Fine then. Be that way, you miserable, wretched human beings."
Harry took pity on her. "Three words, Hermione," he stated. "The. Triquetra. Effect."
She thought about it for a second. Then— "Ohhhhh. But that makes perfect sense!"
Ron grinned at her.
"But what was Merlin's Gift? He had to have had one, if he followed the same rule for himself as he placed for the Founders," said Hermione.
"It was the Hat. The old...wretched...cynical...Sorting Hat," Harry stated. "Merlin had given his own hat to the Founders when they took over Hogwarts, and Gryffindor of course kept it for his own. Figures, eh…"
Harry stared out over the roaring ocean, listening to the waves crash below them. Draco had calmed them down once more after his powers materialized. Even now, Harry's school enemy-turned-friend was down with the others, rounding up the last of the Death Eaters. Because of the anti-apparition wards, none of them had been able to escape. Draco was proving very effective at dealing with the baddies, and for good reason. He knew how they thought, he knew who they were, who their family was, what they specialed in, the dark deeds they had done… proving himself to be very resourceful.
"Who knew, eh?" said Ron, smiling as he joined Harry's gaze at Draco Malfoy. "Slimy git turned out to be a good guy after all."
"Well, I don't know about 'good'..." Hermione said, nose twitching in mischief. Harry laughed at them for switching lines. "But, yeah...I could get used to him hanging about. Maybe go for drinks at the Three Broomsticks..."
"No. Definitely not. That's where I draw the line." Ron said in disgust. "Hanging out with a Slytherin? Never…"
They chuckled.
"How come he decided to help us out anyway, Harry?" Ron asked. "What changed his mind?"
With a start, Harry realized they didn't even know what happened to Draco's parents. He told them everything, starting with his conversation with the Slytherin at the start of the evening. Had it really been only hours ago? It seemed more like a lifetime, so much happened after that.
When he got to Lucius and Narcissa's deaths, Hermione darkened, no doubt thinking of her own parents' deaths.
Ron saw this, and his face showed that of pity and sorrow. Then he spoke up, surprising both his friends. "There must be something we can do for him. He won't have anywhere to go...no friends to speak of now that he's putting away all of the Slytherins' parents…"
"I wouldn't mind him staying with us over breaks," Harry mused. He found he quite liked the blond's company now they weren't always snarling at each other. "You two'll prolly be snogging so much I won't be able to get a word in edgewise anyhow."
Ron laughed, but Hermione slugged him. "Hey! Not fair, really, considering what I saw you and Ginny doing just now."
It was Harry's turn to chuckle while Ron bristled. "Just what the hell you doing with my sister then, eh?"
"You know, though, Draco might have his own company if he does stay with us. I noticed Luna looking over at him several times now. Think there's something there?" mused Hermione.
"Hermione, you'd find sunshines and daisies out of a dementor's piss," Ron said with a smile. "So we calling him Draco now then? Draco. Dray-co. Sounds weirder than Malfoy, if you ask me…"
"Actually I heard him tell Meghan Freeman he might like to change his last name now. To Black, since that's his mother's maiden name. Doesn't want all the horrible connotations that come with his father's last name. Especially now that everyone on Voldemort's side hates that name as well as everyone on Dumbledore's side," Hermione stated, back to her info-gathering self.
They sunk back into silence.
Hermione wiped her face as they stared out at the sunrise, trying to hide the gesture with her hair, but the both of them saw it, and the both of them hugged her.
"You all right?" said Harry quietly.
"I just...miss them," Hermione sniffled, overcome with the ability now that nothing else was going on, to just grieve. For the loss of her parents. For the loss of the memory she didn't know she had. For the loss of time lost with them. For the loss of her home.
Ron held her closer to him as she cried, and they all wondered what was going to happen to Hermione now. Where was she going to live? How would she plan the funerals? What would they tell the other Muggles...
Harry thought vaguely they really should be heading back to the others. But he found he didn't want to go. Going back meant facing the truth about what happened to Charlie, and he found he really didn't have the heart to just yet…
"You thinking about Charlie?" Hermione asked him quietly, so low that Ron couldn't hear. Harry nodded dully.
"Harry...I was thinking…I don't want Ron to know yet...I'd rather not get his hopes up...but you know how the sword takes in that which makes it stronger?"
He nodded again.
"Well, couldn't it...I mean, couldn't it...couldn't it have George's soul in it?"
Harry's head slowly came up. "The sword killed the dementor. I didn't even know dementors could be killed. It struck the dementor right after it sucked George's soul. The blade could very well have not just George in it...but all the souls that dementor sucked! Hermione...what if we can get him out!"
Excited, Hermione rambled on. "It is possible! I've read about other witches and wizards doing it too. Well, not this. And not on this large of a scale. But they have successfully pulled the ghost of a spell out of a goblin-wrought metal, and this wouldn't be any different, really…"
"And we could get Meghan to help! She'd be great at being able to put it back in his body, and if we did it right as soon as we get back, it won't be too late!"
"What're you two yabbering on about?" Ron groaned, peeking one eye open from his perch leaning on his rock precariously.
"Nothing," Harry and Hermione said in unison.
"Speaking of Meghan, you think she and Neville were hitting it off?" mused Harry, changing the conversation. He had rather a fondness for that little firecracker. Neville could use a bit of that in his life, really.
And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Meghan's healing abilities were probably what helped Neville's body stay alive while he was soulless. It had been fairly obvious that Meghan had powers that surpassed all others. When he remembered how she'd been able to assess and help Moony back at the Shrieking Shack—or, the Marauders' Den, as Moony was renaming it—his mind flashed with familiarity.
"That's because she's an heir too, you know," said Hermione, reading his mind again.
Harry started. "Was I broadcasting again?"
She smiled. "Actually...no. I think I can read minds now. You know...the Triquetra Effect. My power with the diadem is air, and now the power I alone possess must be telepathy. I was actually...erm...reading Meghan's mind as well just now."
Harry's and Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Hermione Granger? Delighting in something that's not even a little morally wrong?" Ron asked.
"But I had a great excuse!" Hermione exclaimed in defense as they both chuckled. "No, really, Harry you won't believe it when I tell you this, but...but Meghan Freeman is Sirius' daughter!"
Ron's laughter was cut short. Harry knew this, of course, but Ron's mouth was left hanging open at this. Meghan Freeman's father was…
"Seriously?"
"Seriously," said a deep voice behind them. "Or...you know, as Sirius as I can be when I'm...well...me."
Harry turned. A huge hug engulfed him.
"You did it, Harry!" Sirius breathed in his ear. Letha hugged him tightly as well. "I always knew you could. You're a great wizard, Harry. Just like your father…"
As if on cue, Remus and Hestia Jones strolled up the pathway.
"Thought we'd find you three here," Hestia said. Her eyes turned to Sirius and quirked her head. "Not where I thought I'd find you here, however. Don't Marauders usually delight in the monstrous mayhem taking place below us? Or is it just that you don't like to be stuck with cleanup?" The last was said with a twinkle in her eyes.
Ron stood up to offer her his place on a rock. Hestia shook her head, "I have something I need to tell you lot, actually. And I'd much rather stay standing for this."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione shared quizzical looks. Sirius and Lupin had no idea what this was about too, and Aletha was rather confused as well.
Hestia took a deep breath, then shakily let it out. "I'm just...going to go for it. Ever since the beginning of the last war that had Voldemort at the helm, I've been in hiding. When I was eleven, my family was attacked. I had to leave them...permanently. I changed my name, went to Hogwarts, told everyone I was someone that I wasn't. All so Voldemort wouldn't find me."
Lupin's brow lines were etched into his forehead. "But Hestia...I don't understand…"
"I'm from the Ravenclaw Line, Remus," Hestia said, sinking down to his level. "Dumbledore knew that nobody could ever find out. He took great lengths to make sure that nobody would. Not even you. Before Hermione activated the diadem...it was mine. I'm the one who hid it in the Hogwarts carrel, Hermione. I convinced...your mum. I knew you needed to be the next Heir, so I gladly gave up my own responsibilites. I could see the future, see. Or rather...hear it...if that makes sense..."
"I...don't...understand," Hermione muttered. "If you're from the Ravenclaw line, then that would make you my...my…"
"Your sister," Hestia said, smiling through her tears. "I am, Hermione."
Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth. "Everyone told me you died when I was a baby," she gasped through her fingers. "I can't believe...I can't believe it's really you…"
Hestia engulfed Hermione in a hug and laughed. "It is. My real name...is Gertrude. Gertrude Granger. But everyone used to call me—"
"Danger!" Hermione whispered.
Harry and Ron watched it all with bemused looks on their faces. Sirius and Remus were likewise befuddled, not really realizing the significance but enjoying the reunion anyway.
"But, girl, your hair—"
"Oh this? It's just a glamour charm, Letha. Merlin, am I glad to be rid of it…" Hestia/Danger pulled out her wand and turned her long black curls into light brown ones. The freckles on her face faded away, the nose changed slightly, the color of her eyes turned, and they were almost looking at a completely different person.
Remus stood up, staring at Hestia's...Danger's...eyes as if seeing them for the first time. Then he grabbed her around the waist and kissed her fervently.
Everyone awwed and clapped. Ecstatic that the man he thought of almost like a dad was finally happy and found his number one choice, Harry just beamed at the people around him.
The Weasleys came over to relish in the excitement, and Ginny plopped herself on Harry's lap comfortably. Neville, Luna, Meghan were all there, looking really quite content, and even Draco meandered over, uncomfortably and trying not to stick out like a sore thumb.
Hermione's happiness at finding out her professor was actually her sister was vibrant. They all chatted and laughed and planned together, and he found he really liked his newfound family. Apparently, they were already planning holidays and get-togethers. Winter break was going to be spent at the Marauders' Den, where Moony and Padfoot were planning on living. But Letha was going to move in with them, since she and Sirius were still technically married, and it didn't look like it would be long before Danger did as well. The better to teach, she stated, but everyone could see she absolutely adored Remus.
And all too soon, it was time to go.
Hagrid took off on Norberta, who lead Goldeneye, Buckbeak, and the Thestrals off back towards the mainland. The house-elves popped off back to Hogwarts, too few of them leaving than who came.
The Aurors and DMLE's disapparated after taking down the wards. The last of the Death Eaters were shipped off to Azkaban, and the corpses of the monstrous Quintapeds were piled high and transfigured into small, dead spiders to dispose of easier.
Then Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Neville walked up the steps to the portal. The remaining members of the Order followed, and watched as the students slit their palms with their wands, dropping the blood of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Merlin onto the stone.
And as the stones started turning and reenacting their journey there, Harry looked around at them all. His family. His friends.
He knew that he was going back to where it all started, where he felt the most at peace, and where he could now settle down with Voldemort finally dead.
Home.
The End
