May 2, 2015
Voldemort's voice reverberated across the grounds, through the castle, across the lake that writhed like the ocean. Alexa realized he was speaking to them, to the residents of Hogsmeade and all those still fighting in the castle, who could hear him as clearly as if he stood beside them, his breath on the back of their necks, a deathblow away. Beside her Draco looked like he was going to be sick, and she clamped her hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.
"You have fought," said the high, cold voice, "valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet, you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.
"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."
Alexa swallowed, watching as black cloaks poured from the castle, like so many tiny ants in the darkness. She watched as the surviving giants turned and followed, as the remaining acromantula scurried away.
"Let's get to the Great Hall," Alexa said, she pulled out her coin from her pocket, and sure enough the message was already there, Great Hall, bring fallen. "We'll need to gather whoever we find along the way."
Seamus looked like he might be sick, and Luna and Ernie, both white faced in the night, were waiting for them as they reached the stone steps to the entrance hall. Alexa levitated Lavender Brown's body in the air. The girl let out a weak moan. She was alive, thank the gods.
"It's okay girl," Alexa said, her voice a forced calm, "It's our turn to take care of you." The doors to the Great Hall were open, and the House tables were gone and the room was crowded. The survivors stood in groups, their arms around each other's necks. The injured were being treated upon the raised platform by Madam Pomfrey and a group of helpers. Firenze was amongst the injured; his flank poured blood and he shook where he lay, unable to stand. The dead lay in a row on one side of the Hall. She could see Fred Weasley, almost concealed by his family. Lupin and a woman with a shock of pink hair lay next to each other. Jones, Sullivan, so many others. She looked away and handed off Lavender to Pomphrey, who immediately began muttering spells under her breath.
"What's he doing here?" a voice demanded. She saw a great turning and a great waving of wands all directed at Draco, who's wand clattered to his feet as he raised his hands. Only the D.A. kept their weapons down, eyes turning to Alexa.
"He's left Voldemort," she declared, appearing in front of the blond boy, "He's giving us information."
"I don't believe that-" somebody from the crowd shouted.
"Hey!" Neville pushed his way through the mob, standing by Alexa's side, "If he's here to help us then are you really going to turn him away? Look what they've done to us!" he pointed at the rows of bodies lying on the ground, "We need every person we can get. If Alexa believes him, so do I." There was a great muttering, but the mob dispersed. Neville turned to look at her.
"You look like shit," she commented. He rolled his eyes and pulled her into a tight hug.
"So do you," he replied.
"Alexa!" a voice yelled, Neville stepped back just in time to dodge Theo throwing his arms around her and pulling her against his chest. Blaise latched on not a second behind, and she was squished between the two like a very affectionate sandwich. She felt tears pushing in her eyes, and quickly wiped them away, not before Blaise noticed.
"Are you alright?" Theo asked, releasing her and catching her shoulders, examining her face. He had a gash from one end of his forehead to the other end of his jaw and it looked like half his hair had been burned off. Blaise's face was, by some miracle, untouched, but there were wide bloodstains across his ribs and back, and what looked like a nasty burn molting his neck.
"I'm fine," she said, "You should have someone look at that cut."
"It's nothing-"
"Liar," Blaise said. She had never seen him look quite so serious. His face was grim, and hard.
"There are people who are hurt worse," Theo rolled his eyes. The two began to bicker and she looked out into the Great Hall. Any emotions she might have about the line of bodies lying in front of her were tucked away nice and tight. She tried not to see their faces.
"We're going out to help bring in the bodies," Neville said quietly. Oliver, the former Gryffindor quidditch player, nodded at his side.
"I'll help," Alexa said. There was a general murmuring of agreement from the boys around her, and they trudged out to the grounds. Now that her adrenaline had died out she could feel death hanging heavily in the air, a kind of sickening cloud that made her vaguely nauseous. They paired off, Blaise and Theo together, Oliver and Neville together, and Alexa and Draco as well. The others wandered off into the dark, and Alexa squared her shoulders.
"Anthony is this way," she said quietly, "Follow me." She led Draco farther out onto the grounds. He was silent, following a few paces behind her, jumping at the slightest of sounds.
"How are you holding up?" she asked.
"I am collecting the dead of the people I started tonight off with trying to kill," his voice was tight, and his face pinched. "I'm doing okay."
"I think you are," she said, glancing over her shoulder at him, "I think you're doing remarkably well given the circumstances."
He gave a hoarse laugh, "I'm glad you think so. I don't feel real. I…" he trailed off shaking his head, "I left everything I have ever been or was ever prepared to be-" his voice took on a hysteric note, and she grabbed his shoulder.
"Hey," she said, "Look at me." His wide eyes met hers, and she could feel him tremble under her grip, "You are here. The only thing that's real is what's happening right now in this exact moment. You can't change the past. But you can move forward, and that's what we're doing." Her tone was firm, and her gaze steady, and he nodded, although he still seemed unsteady.
She turned and continued on, Draco in step at her side. It didn't take long to reach Anthony. He was lying, eyes wide, the color washed from his face, blue lips parted. It was a clean death, and for that she was grateful. Careful not to disturb him, Alexa knelt by his side, reaching out to carefully close his eyes.
"It was during the beginning," she said, "Before they even got into the castle. We were the first line of defence."
"I'm sorry," Draco said, voice tight, "Did you see…?"
"I felt it. I can block most of them, but I felt him go."
Draco looked positively alarmed, but he didn't comment.
"There's another over that way, I think he was with Lupin," she pointed several yards away. Drawing her wand, she placed Anthony in a full body bind, and levitated him above the ground. She didn't think she could stand the sight of his limbs and head lolling about when she brought him to the Great Hall.
"I don't recognize them," Draco said, reappearing at her side with a body of his own levitated. She was grateful he had also bound it.
"I don't either, it must have been with the Order." They trudged back to the castle. It was eerily quiet. It seemed like the entirety of the world was gathered in the Great Hall, with nothing but cold empty space around it. Every now and then she'd catch sight of somebody roaming the grounds or picking through the rubble, looking for allies, friends, and loved ones. Draco trailed her, flinching back whenever others approached. She could hardly blame him.
"Lex," a voice called as she was leaving the Great Hall once more. She turned, to see Neville walking towards her, Ginny at his side. The fire in her eyes was out, and she was limping, but her face was set with her usual determination.
"We need to meet with Kingsley, we need a new plan," he looked more tired than she had ever seen him. She supposed she didn't look much better. She glanced at Draco, and Ginny spoke.
"I'll stay with him," she said, "c'mon Malfoy." She looped her arm through his and pulled him away to somewhere Alexa didn't see.
"Do you need anything healed?" Neville asked, as they made their way over to where Kingsley was seated on the floor, McGonagall by his side.
"No," she said, "I'm good." Her shoulder still worked and her other wounds were only surface leve.. She followed him, sitting heavily next to him on the stone floor.
"We've taken heavy losses," was the first thing out of Kingsley's mouth, "We can't keep taking hits like this."
"Can we isolate to one area of the castle?" Alexa asked, "We can't block them out again, but we can limit where they can come from."
"There isn't any part of the castle that isn't damaged beyond that," McGonagall sighed.
There was a sudden, piercing scream from the end of the hall, and collectively the living jumped from their mourning, wands raised.
"Wait!" Alexa hollered, pushing her way to the front of the crowd, "Wait, they're mine!" Her skeleton soldiers had found their way to the Hall.
"When the hell did you get skeletons?" Blaise demanded, eyes wide.
"I pulled them from the Underworld," she called out to the still suspicious hall, "They're fighting for us." The skeletons chattered, teeth clicking together as if to assure the gathering that they meant no harm. Alexa wasn't sure what had seized her when that happened. She couldn't remember what she had even said when she plunged her sword into the earth. But she knew she'd paid for them with the souls in the dementors.
"Patrol the grounds," she said, "Kill anyone who comes through."
The seeming leader of the group nodded, and together the skeletons left, ever dutiful.
Neville gave a low whistle as she returned to his side, "That was exciting."
"Too exciting. Everybody is ready to snap in here," Alexa said, looking around.
"Our best shot is to remain here," Kingsley said, "Has anyone seen Harry recently?"
They looked around, and a heavy weight settled into Alexa's stomach. She had a bad feeling.
"I saw him about thirty minutes ago," Neville said, his brows furrowing together. "He said he had to do something, I couldn't stop him from going alone." He turned to Alexa, eyes wide and afraid, "Can you find him?" he asked.
She exhaled and closed her eyes. She was not overly familiar with his life force, but she had a terrible suspicion as to where he would be. She reached her mind out across the grounds, out into the forest and…
"That's so strange," she whispered, "I found him, he's in the forest, but he's not alone. He's with four...not ghosts, but not people either. I've never felt anything like it before but he's headed towards Voldemort."
"No!" Neville and McGonagall breathed in unison, not daring to raise their voices lest they cause a panic.
"He's there where they are, close enough to speak to him. He's…" she fell silent for a moment, and then her eyes flew open, "He's dead." She pressed a hand over her mouth, and tears began to roll down McGonagall's cheeks. She closed her eyes once more, begging for another explanation. There was a full minute of silence and then her eyes snapped open once more.
"He's back. I don't know how he did it, he was dead, but now he's back. There's something different, he feels...healthier. And he is definitely not dead."
"But how?" McGonagall demanded, hands clenched tightly.
"I don't know," Alexa was baffled, "I've never seen anything like it. He was gone, clearly and completely gone, and he came back. I can't explain it." She closed her eyes a third time.
"They're headed this way, like some kind of funeral procession. They probably think it's over now."
"Well they've got another thing coming," Neville spat, a ferocity lighting up his eyes.
Alexa was about to respond when a high cold voice filled the air for the third time that night.
"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. "The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anybody who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."
Wails filled the hall, and Kingsley's pressed his wand to his neck, but Neville caught his arm.
"If Voldemort is coming, then we need them convinced Harry's dead. It's got to be part of his plan," he explained quickly. Kingsley hesitated, looking at the crowd of sobbing people, but nodded.
"You're right," he said, shaking his head.
"They're outside waiting for us," Alexa said, drawing her sword.
She strode across the Hall, sword in one hand, wand in the other, others following her until eventually the whole collection of battle worn wizards was with her.
"No!"
"Harry!"
The shrieks were terrible, the sobs were worse, and the screaming was enough to break her heart. The Death Eaters stood in a line in front of them, Voldemort in all his bald glory at their center. To the right stood Hagrid, weeping still, a very small looking Harry Potter clutched in his arms. All around her, students and order members alike were screaming abuse at their foes. She clenched her sword tight in her hand, silent as the grave, there was one more fight left.
"SILENCE!" cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and silence was forced upon them all. Alexa hated silencing spells more than anything. "It's over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"
Hagrid gave Voldemort a glare that could have set him aflame, but lowered their Chosen One gently onto the grass anyways.
"You see?" said Voldemort, and he strode next to Harry, "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"
"He beat you!" yelled Ron, and the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more.
"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," said Voldemort, and there was relish in his voice for the lie, "killed while trying to save himself—"
"Liar!" Alexa screamed, sword raised.
He turned to look at her, a sneer on his lips. She didn't flinch.
"I remember you, little demigod," he said, "your kind has no place here."
And that's when Neville lost his mind and charged Voldemort.
"No!" Alexa hissed, lurching forward as Neville was quickly struck down. Theo, who had seemed to materialize beside her, grabbed her shoulder to keep her back.
"And who is this?" he said in his soft snake's hiss. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"
Bellatrix gave a delighted laugh. "It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"
"Ah, yes, I remember," said Voldemort, looking down at Neville, who was struggling back to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, standing in the no-man's-land between the survivors and the Death Eaters. "But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?" Voldemort asked Neville, who stood facing him, his empty hands curled into fists.
"So what if I am?" said Neville loudly.
"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."
"I'll join you when hell freezes over," said Neville. "Dumbledore's Army!" he shouted, and there was an answering cheer from the crowd, whom Voldemort's Silencing Charms seemed unable to hold.
"Very well," said Voldemort, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose from the silkiness of his voice, a quiet promise of danger more pronounced than the most powerful curse. "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head," he said quietly, "be it."
Voldemort waved his wand. Seconds later, out of one of the castle's shattered windows, something that looked like a misshapen bird flew through the half light and landed in Voldemort's hand. He shook the mildewed object by its pointed end and it dangled, empty and ragged: the Sorting Hat.
"There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School," said Voldemort. "There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom?" He pointed his wand at Neville, who grew rigid and still, then forced the hat onto Neville's head, so that it slipped down to cover his eyes. There were movements from the watching crowd in front of the castle, and as one, the Death Eaters raised their wands, holding the fighters of Hogwarts at bay. Alexa snarled, pushing forward, trying to get through, but with the crowd pressing against her from behind and the spell from in front of her there was nowhere to go.
"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," said Voldemort, and with a flick of his wand, he caused the Sorting Hat to burst into flames. Screams split the dawn, and Neville was aflame, rooted to the spot, unable to move, and Alexa passed into the shadows, leaping forward and out of Theo's grasp but then-
There was a sudden, ground shaking roar from the boundary of the school, like hundreds of people screaming war cries. At the same time, the smaller giant from earlier appeared with a mighty roar of "HAGGER!' The only answer to his cry were those of the giants, who rushed towards him like so many angry rinosauri. Next came the great pounding of hooves and the familiar twangs of bows, and arrows were suddenly falling amongst the Death Eaters, who broke ranks, shouting their surprise. For the briefest second Alexa had the ludicrous thought camp Jupiter had come to their aid, but of course that was absurd-it was the centaurs.
In one swift, fluid motion, Neville broke free of the Body-Bind Curse upon; the flaming hat fell off him and he drew from its depths something silver, a sword with a glittering, rubied handle— The slash of the gleaming blade could not be heard over the roar of the oncoming crowd or the sounds of the clashing giants or of the stampeding centaurs, and yet it seemed to draw every eye. With a single stroke Neville sliced off the great snake's head, which spun high into the air, gleaming in the light flooding from the entrance hall, and Voldemort's mouth was open in a scream of fury that nobody could hear, and the snake's body thudded to the ground at his feet—
"HARRY!" Hagrid shouted. "HARRY—WHERE'S HARRY?"
Chaos reigned. The charging centaurs were scattering the Death Eaters, everyone was fleeing the giants' stamping feet, and nearer and nearer thundered the reinforcements that had come from who knew where; Alexa saw great winged creatures soaring around the heads of Voldemort's giants, thestrals and a hippogriff scratching and biting at their eyes while the smaller giant punched and pummeled them, and now the wizards, defenders of Hogwarts and Death Eaters alike, were being forced back into the castle. She shot jinxes and hexes and curses at any Death Eater she could see, and their fallen bodies were swept away in the crowd, trampled and never to be seen again.
And now there were more, even more people storming up the front steps, and Alexa saw a Weasley overtaking Horace Slughorn, who was still wearing his emerald green pajamas. They seemed to have returned at the head of what looked like the families and friends of every Hogwarts student who had remained to fight, along with the shopkeepers and homeowners of Hogsmeade. Three centaurs burst into the hall with a great clatter of hooves, and the door that led to the kitchens was blasted off its hinges.
She swung her sword, stabbing it deep into the knee of a Death Eater as she went by, but quickly raised her blade above her head so as not to impale the tide of house elves who swarmed into the hall. The house-elves of Hogwarts swarmed into the entrance hall, screaming and waving carving knives and cleavers, and at their head, a particularly gnarled one led the charge, a heavy silver locket bouncing on his bare chest.
"Fight! Fight! Fight for my Master, defender of the house-elves! Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!" came his bull-frog voice, audible even over the clatter and screams of battle. They were hacking and stabbing at the ankles and shins of Death Eaters, their tiny faces alive with malice, and everywhere Alexa looked Death Eaters were folding under sheer weight of numbers, overcome by spells, dragging arrows from wounds, stabbed in the leg by elves, or else simply attempting to escape, but swallowed by the oncoming horde.
She locked eyes with an unmasked Death Eater, and recognized him immediately. He was the one who had been on the train to collect the muggle borns, all those months ago.
"Hey!" she yelled, flinging a cutting hex at him. He blocked it and she advanced, still yelling. "You know who got the muggle borns off the train?" He shot a curse she didn't recognize at him, and she spun into the shadows to avoid it, stepping out behind him, her sword at his throat.
"Bitch!" he hissed. Then he was on the floor.
Voldemort was in the center of the battle, and he was striking and smiting all within reach. The Great Hall became more and more crowded as everyone who could walk forced their way inside. Alexa lunged with her sword as another Death Eater charged her, and she impaled him through the belly, her sword popping out his back. She wrenched the blade from him, charging at no clear individual opponent, just a sea of Death Eaters around her.
Around her, Yaxley was slammed to the floor by George and Lee Jordan, saw Dolohov fall with a scream at Flitwick's hands, she saw Walden Macnair thrown across the room by Hagrid, hit the stone wall opposite, and slid unconscious to the ground. She saw Ron and Neville bringing down Fenrir Greyback, Aberforth Stunning Rookwood, Arthur and Percy flooring Thicknesse, and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy running through the crowd, not even attempting to fight, screaming for their son, who was on the opposite side of the room from them, next to her her, dueling a masked man with determination the likes of which she had never seen from him. She kept swinging her sword, kept screaming spells. The tide pulled her away from Draco and when she looked back Draco wrenched his arm free of his mother's grip and leveled his wand on his father.
Voldemort was now dueling McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley all at once, and there was cold hatred in his face as they wove and ducked around him, unable to finish him— Bellatrix was still fighting too, fifty yards away from Voldemort, and like her master she dueled three at once: Hermione, Ginny, and Luna, all battling their hardest, but Bellatrix was equal to them, and Alexa turned to run toward them as a killing curse missed Ginny by barely a hair.
"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!" Mrs. Weasley screamed as she threw off her cloak as she ran, freeing her arms. Bellatrix spun on the spot, roaring with laughter at the sight of her new challenger. "OUT OF MY WAY!" shouted Mrs. Weasley to the three girls, and with a swipe of her wand she began to duel. Alexa watched with terror and elation as Molly Weasley's wand slashed and twisted, and Bellatrix Lestrange's smile faltered and became a snarl. Jets of light flew from both wands, the floor around the witches' feet became hot and cracked; both women were fighting to kill. Dimly she was aware of Draco and Narcissa, having found her again, watching with bated breath as their Aunt and sister fought the Weasley matriarch.
"No!" Mrs. Weasley cried as a few students ran forward, trying to come to her aid. "Get back! Get back! She is mine!" Hundreds of people now lined the walls, watching the two fights, Voldemort and his three opponents, and Bellatrix and Molly.
"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" taunted Bellatrix, as mad as her master, capering as Molly's curses danced around her. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"
"You—will—never—touch—our—children—again!" screamed Mrs. Weasley.
Bellatrix laughed, the same exhilarated laugh filled with a madness she doubted even Bacchus could muster, and suddenly Alexa knew what was going to happen before it did. Molly's curse soared beneath Bellatrix's outstretched arm and hit her squarely in the chest, directly over her heart. Bellatrix's gloating smile froze, her eyes began to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed.
McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slughorn were blasted backward, flailing and writhing through the air, as Voldemort's fury at the fall of his last, best lieutenant exploded with the force of a bomb.
Voldemort raised his wand and directed it at Molly Weasley.
"Protego!" roared someone, and the Shield Charm expanded in the middle of the Hall, and Voldemort stared around for the source as Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak.
The yell of shock, the cheers, the screams on every side of "Harry!" "HE'S ALIVE!" were stifled at once. The crowd was afraid, and silence fell abruptly and completely as Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and began, at the same moment, to circle each other.
"I don't want anyone else to try to help." Harry said loudly, and in the total silence his voice carried like a trumpet call. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."
Voldemort hissed. "Potter doesn't mean that," he said, his red eyes wide. "That isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"
"Nobody," said Harry simply. "There are no more Horcruxes. It's just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good. . . ." Alexa didn't know what that meant, but she saw the fear in Voldemort's eyes for the briefest moment before it was extinguished.
"One of us?" jeered Voldemort, and his whole body was taut and his red eyes stared, a snake that was about to strike. "You think it will be you, do you, the boy who has survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"
"Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me?" asked Harry. They were still moving sideways, both of them, in that perfect circle, maintaining the same distance from each other. "Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn't defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again?"
"Accidents!" screamed Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and the watching crowd was coiled, ready to spring at a moment's notice. Very few times during the night had Alexa been genuinely afraid, but now, watching them circle each other, there was an ice clawing at her throat threatening to consume her. Draco's hand was clamped on her shoulder, for as much his comfort as hers, she guessed, but it was something that dragged her back to reality.
"Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and sniveled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!"
"You won't be killing anyone else tonight," said Harry as they circled, and stared into each other's eyes, green into red. "You won't be able to kill any of them ever again. Don't you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people—"
"But you did not!"
"—I meant to, and that's what did it. I've done what my mother did. They're protected from you. Haven't you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can't torture them. You can't touch them. You don't learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?"
"You dare—"
"Yes, I dare," said Harry. "I know things you don't know, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things that you don't. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?"
Voldemort did not speak, but prowled in a circle, contemplating the man in front of him. He was temporarily mesmerized and at bay, held back by the faintest possibility that Harry might indeed know a final secret. . . .
Is it love again?" said Voldemort, his snake's face jeering. "Dumbledore's favorite solution, love, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling from the tower and breaking like an old waxwork? Love, which did not prevent me stamping out your Mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter—and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse. So what will stop you from dying now when I strike?"
"Just one thing," said Harry, and still they circled each other, wrapped in each other, held apart by nothing but the last secret.
"If it is not love that will save you this time," said Voldemort, "you must believe that you have magic that I do not, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?"
"I believe both," said Harry, and she saw shock flit across the snakelike face, though it was instantly dispelled; Voldemort began to laugh, and the sound was more frightening than his screams; humorless and insane, it echoed around the silent Hall.
"You think you know more magic than I do?" he said. "Than I, than Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?"
"Oh, he dreamed of it," said Harry, "but he knew more than you, knew enough not to do what you've done."
"You mean he was weak!" screamed Voldemort. "Too weak to dare, too weak to take what might have been his, what will be mine!"
"No, he was cleverer than you," said Harry, "a better wizard, a better man."
"I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!"
"You thought you did," said Harry, "but you were wrong." For the first time, the watching crowd stirred as the hundreds of people around the walls drew breath as one.
"Dumbledore is dead!" Voldemort hurled the words at Harry as though they would cause him unendurable pain. "His body decays in the marble tomb in the grounds of this castle. I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return!"
"Yes, Dumbledore's dead," said Harry calmly, "but you didn't have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant."
"What childish dream is this?" said Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and his red eyes did not waver from Harry's.
"Severus Snape wasn't yours," said Harry. "Snape was Dumbledore's from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can't understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?"
Voldemort did not answer. They continued to circle each other, like wolves about to tear each other apart.
"Snape's Patronus was a doe," said Harry,"the same as my mother's, because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from the time when they were children. You should have realized," he said as he saw Voldemort's nostrils flare, "he asked you to spare her life, didn't he?"
"He desired her, that was all," sneered Voldemort, "but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him—"
"Of course he told you that," said Harry, "but he was Dumbledore's spy from the moment you threatened her, and he's been working against you ever since! Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him!"
"It matters not!" shrieked Voldemort, who had followed every word with rapt attention, but now let out a cackle of mad laughter. "It matters not whether Snape was mine or Dumbledore's, or what petty obstacles they tried to put in my path! I crushed them as I crushed your mother, Snape's supposed great love! Oh, but it all makes sense, Potter, and in ways that you do not understand!
"Dumbledore was trying to keep the Elder Wand from me! He intended that Snape should be the true master of the wand! But I got there ahead of you, little boy—I reached the wand before you could get your hands on it, I understood the truth before you caught up, I killed Severus Snape hours ago, and the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny is truly mine! Dumbledore's last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!"
"Yeah, it did," said Harry. "You're right. But before you try to kill me, I'd advise you to think about what you've done. . . . Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle. . . ." Alexa was taken aback. Surely Voldemort was beyond saving? Surely he would die tonight?
"What is this?" Voldemort seemed as shocked as they did.
"It's your one last chance," said Harry, "it's all you've got left. . . . I've seen what you'll be otherwise. . . . Be a man . . . try . . . Try for some remorse. . . ."
"You dare—?" said Voldemort again.
Yes, I dare," said Harry, "because Dumbledore's last plan hasn't backfired on me at all. It's backfired on you, Riddle. That wand still isn't working properly for you because you murdered the wrong person. Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore."
"He killed—"
Aren't you listening? Snape never beat Dumbledore! Dumbledore's death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die undefeated, the wand's last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand's power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!"
"But then, Potter, Dumbledore as good as gave me the wand!" Voldemort's voice shook with malicious pleasure. "I stole the wand from its last master's tomb! I removed it against its last master's wishes! It's power is mine!"
"You still don't get it, Riddle, do you? Possessing the wand isn't enough! Holding it, using it, doesn't make it really yours. Didn't you listen to Ollivander? The wand chooses the wizard. . . . The Elder Wand recognized a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realizing exactly what he had done, or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance. . . . " Voldemort's chest rose and fell rapidly, "The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."
Next to her Draco took a step back, eyes going wide. Across the room, Lucius's looked at his son, his eyes wide in horror and fear at his son's fate. Alexa stepped in front of him, her sword glinting in her hand and her eyes on Voldemort.
Blank shock showed in Voldemort's face for a moment, but then it was gone.
"But what does it matter?" he said softly. "Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: We duel on skill alone . . . and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy. . . ."
"But you're too late," said Harry. "You've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him." Harry twitched the hawthorn wand, and he felt the eyes of everyone in the Hall upon it. Draco's relief was palpable.
"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" whispered Harry. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was disarmed? Because if it does . . . I am the true master of the Elder Wand."
A red-gold glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time, so that they were suddenly a flaming blur. Alexa heard the high voice shriek as they both raised their wands, aiming blindly:
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
The bang was like a cannon blast, and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead center of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided. Voldemort's green jet met Harry's, and the Elder Wand flew high, dark against the sunrise, spinning across the enchanted ceiling like the head of Nagini, spinning through the air toward the master it would not kill, who had come to take full possession of it at last. And Harry, with the unerring skill of a Seeker, caught the wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. He hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hands, staring down at his enemy's shell.
One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspended, and then the tumult broke around Harry as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air. Alexa cheered along with them, throwing her arms around Draco, who was beaming, screaming as well as anyone else. The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as the crowd thundered toward Harry, and the first to reach him were Ron and Hermione, and it was their arms that were wrapped around him, their incomprehensible shouts that deafened him. Then Ginny, Neville, and Luna were there, and then all the Weasleys and Hagrid, and Kingsley and McGonagall and Flitwick and Sprout, and no one could not hear a word that anyone was shouting, nor tell whose hands were seizing whom, hundreds of them, celebrating their survival and victory together.
Alexa and Neville found each other, they sorted through their Army, they mourned with them, they helped distribute food. They spread the news that the Imperiused up and down the country had come back to themselves, that Death Eaters were fleeing or else being captured, that the innocent of Azkaban were being released at that very moment, and that Kingsley Shacklebolt had been named temporary Minister of Magic.
Alexa herself helped move Voldemort's body and laid it in a chamber off the Hall, away from the bodies of Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Colin Creevey, and the dozens of others who had died fighting him. They went to the hospital wings, each covered in a clean white sheet. McGonagall had replaced the House tables, but nobody was sitting according to House anymore: All were jumbled together, teachers and pupils, ghosts and parents, centaurs and house-elves, and Firenze lay recovering in a corner, and the small giant whose name was Grawp peered in through a smashed window, and people were throwing food into his laughing mouth.
She sat at the Hufflepuff table, Neville and his Gran on one side, Blaise and Theo on the other. Across from them was Draco Malfoy, his mother at his side. Alexa had spoken for Draco, and Harry had spoken for Narcissa. But nobody was paying them any attention at the moment.
Neville was telling his gran about their exploits during the year. Every now and then Seamus would chime in from his Gran's other side, Dean's hand held firmly in his. Alexa gave her own sly contributions, and Blaise and Theo scolded her from time to time.
The war was over. They could move on, and they would do it together.
