The Dying of the Light
Part 6: Harry
A/N: I apologize for this. Originally this story was meant to be only one part, Moony's story, but halfway through Moony, I realized I needed to do Sirius' story. That was fine, until I started wandering about the final battle when they die, so I started writing that, making it a 3-parter. Well, it didn't seem to fair to leave out Ron and Hermione, and some folks pointed out the lack of Wormtail in the story, so I added them to it, making this thing a 6 part story. Mercy.
Then I started looking at the order of events in the battle and realized that I should post them in the order that they died. Which was a pain, since I had the ending, but not the middle, and I had to write the middle, before I could post the ending, which I already had written, but couldn't post yet! Good grief.
Thank you for reading this story, sorry it got so mixed up. Everything belongs to JK Rowling, many thanks, except for the lines from the poem, which belong to Dylan Thomas.
Fight, Fight against the dying of the light
Do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas
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"You do realize we're not going to survive this, right?" Sirius cast a dark look around at them. They all nodded in response to his half joking comment. Harry looked up, meeting their eyes. They were tired and hurt, their eyes were dark pools of grief and pain, but the light still burned in them. He stood slowly, wearily, favoring his bad leg. They watched him calmly, waiting patiently for him to lead them to their deaths. He didn't know what to say to them, what he had ever done to deserve their trust or their lives.
There was nothing he could say that they had not already said to each other. He turned to face the sunset, aware of his friends lining up beside him, ready to face the dying of the light.
They walked without speaking, they had already said all that needed to be said. Hermione and Ron were holding hands; their faces were resolute. Harry sensed Sirius looking at him. He turned his head and met his silvery eyes. Harry recognized the look in his eyes. Often Sirius had commented that it wasn't right, that they should be playing Quidditch instead of fighting for the survival of the wizarding world. Harry agreed with him totally, he would definitely rather be flying after the Snitch, than shouting curses at dark wizards. He would rather be laughing with his friends than watching them die around him. He would rather be doing anything than what he was currently doing. But he had no choice, really, not a choice that would let him live with himself at any rate.
Harry grinned at Sirius, feeling the beginnings of the lunacy that allowed him to do this, to get through the horror with his soul in tact. Sirius grinned back, his silvery eyes filling with the crazed fury of a crusader.
Voldemort and the last of his DeathEaters were waiting for them. Harry could see Voldemort standing back from the battle, willing to wait for Harry to battle his way to him, exhausted and hopefully hurt, before the Dark Lord would have to commit himself to this last battle.
For a moment time seemed to hesitate, as if giving them one last chance to back out, to change their minds. No one moved for a long time, staring into the eyes of their opponents, the ones they meant to kill. The Light was out numbered, which was not unusual. The five were facing twice their number, not counting Voldemort. They had little hope of winning, no hope of surviving, but they did not back down, they weren't capable of turning their backs on all the ones they had lost in this war.
Some unseen flag signaled the beginning of the battle, causing a DeathEater to point his wand at Hermione and shoot black light at her, which she dodged easily, returning fire. Some instinct told Harry where his friends were, how they were doing, when they needed help, bringing them to his aid when he needed it. They had melded into an intimidating fighting force, the weakness of one compensated by the strength of another. DeathEaters fell around them, while they sustained only minor wounds and burns. Ron and Hermione were fighting side by side nearby, Ron kicking one DeathEater in the side when he began to struggle to his feet. Sirius was laughing like a maniac, setting fire to the robes of the DeathEater next to him before clubbing him over the head with his clenched hands. Moony was snarling at his opponent, the wolf in him coming to the fore at the scent of blood.
A deflected curse sizzled across the top of Harry's shoulder, dropping him to one knee with a hiss of pain. The DeathEater laughed with triumph, coming to stand over him. Harry looked up at him, making his eyes wide and fearful. The DeathEater smirked at him, then howled with pain when Hermione slammed a branch into his kidneys from behind. He squirmed in the dirt from a moment before Hermione took pity on him and Stunned him.
Even though Harry wasn't looking at him, he still felt the shock of Moony's death like a physical blow. He spun around, crying out with wordless horror to see Moony crumple to the ground. Sirius leapt over his body and tackled the DeathEater to the ground, beating him bloody with his bare hands until Ron pulled him off the body. Harry was close enough to identity the half-conscious man. Wormtail. Sirius met Harry's eyes. Those silvery orbs were lucid and clear. He calmly raised his wand and killed the man who had destroyed his world.
They continued to fight, the DeathEaters falling around them. Moony's death had taken away some of their spirit, but none of their determination. Ron was the next to fall, cursed from behind. Hermione screamed in pain and rage, taking the last two DeathEaters with her.
Now there was only Voldemort, standing on the hill, calmly watching the slaughter. Sirius made his way towards Harry, favoring his left side. Harry saw movement in the bodies behind Sirius, but didn't realize what it meant until the DeathEater stood, cursing Sirius with the last of his strength. Harry sprinted to his godfather's side, but he was already dead. Harry lowered him to the blood soaked ground and rose. For a moment he just looked at his friends, lying on the ground. They looked so calm, so relaxed in death. Looking at them, Harry felt no fear of death. He would be joining his friends; there was nothing to fear in that.
He walked across the carnage, to where the Dark Lord stood on the hill.
Harry was tired, his brain felt numb, like his heart. His leg throbbed painfully with every step and he couldn't feel the right side of his body. He glanced down to make sure he still clutched his wand. Blood was soaked into his robes and irrationally he berated himself for causing Mrs. Weasley so much work, getting his robes all bloody like that. The mad spirit was thrumming full force in his veins, jangling his nerves, and setting his tongue on fire.
"So Harry Potter, it comes down to this."
"You always knew it would."
"You will show me proper respect, boy."
"Respect? For you? You must be joking. You are nothing. A pitiful puppetmaster without any puppets." Harry waved a hand over the field, the wind causing the robes to blow, mimicking life.
"You are alone as well, boy."
Harry grinned coldly into that snaky face. "Yes, but you see, Tom...May I call you Tom? You see, Tom, unlike you, I am strong enough to stand on my own." Harry didn't know why he was taunting Voldemort like this; the words just appeared unbidden from his tongue. Perhaps this was his way of paying his respects to all those that had died for this moment, making sure the Dark Lord knew how he was going to be defeated, through their courage and sacrifice and strength.
"I am stronger when I stand with friends, but without them, I am unbeatable, because I fight for them. Not for myself, not for power, not for a master, but for them. Can you understand that, Tom? No, I don't think so." Harry pulled a sad face at the Dark Lord, feigning pity for the monstrous creature he had become.
"I know you can't understand this, Tom, but I just want you to know, even though you can't understand it, why you are going to die. I want you to understand why the Light will always defeat the Dark, Tom."
Voldemort snarled, hissing like a deranged snake and struck. Harry coolly raised his wand and waited. Voldemort raised his wand, swinging it forward to point at Harry, who raised his hand, then aimed his own wand at Voldemort. They both released the curse at the same time, the glittering light streaking cold and bright towards its intended targets, striking with mortal force.
Harry gasped as the curse hit him, buckling under its strength, the world going gray and soft around him. Harry fought off the effects long enough to see the Dark Lord shriek in agony, then collapse into a ball of shadows that writhed and twisted. The white light Harry had sent enveloped the ball, intruded into the ball, calmed the ball, until finally the ball exploded, sending glittering sparks shooting over the field. Even dying, Harry had to grin, relieved. Voldemort was really dead this time.
"What did you hit him with, Harry?" Ginny asked softly, pulling him to his feet with a gentle smile. Harry gaped at her. It had been so long since he had seen her; she had fallen early in the war. Harry glanced around when a familiar voice called his name. Ron stood there with Hermione, beaming at him. They glanced over their shoulders and Harry followed their glance. Remus and Sirius stood next to a young couple who looked strangely familiar. For a moment Harry couldn't speak, overcome by everything.
He looked at the gentle girl standing beside him, at Ron and Hermione, Remus and Sirius, his parents. "With Light," he said simply, joining them. "With light."