Indarae
Parings: Light Luna/Harry nearing the end, but that's not my ship, at all.
Rating: Pg-13, as always, for disturbing imagery and war.
Distribution: Schnoogle, Twisting the Hellmouth, ff.net, or simply email to ask.
Summary: (Severitus' Challenge) The death of Albus Dumbledore leaves a mountain of questions for the Light. Along with Luna, Ginny, Ron, and the unlikely help of a Slytherin, Harry learns that answers often bring hearbreak as the final conflict approaches.
A/N: Here's the final chapter. I'm also posting the epilogue today.
Chapter Twelve — Journey's End
December 19, 1997
They reached the library soon after, and Madame Pince sent only a cursory glare as they hurried to the section where Luna swore the books would be. The woman was sending significant glares at the clock as soon as Harry sat down with a small stack of books, but he ignored her in favour of reading. Time was certainly against them, this time.
"Harry, please," Luna whispered, "tell me what you're thinking. Then I can help..."
"I need..." He winced. "Look, I need information about the most powerful blood portals, and how they compare to Apparation. For instance, would an anti-Apparation charm prevent the portals...?"
Luna gasped softly and finished his sentence. "... because today, the wards are weaker, and if a portal can cut through with the increased strength of the full moon... oh, Harry, we should go tell the Headmistress right away -"
"No," Harry hissed, "I need to know for certain. Then we need to go and get everyone, so we're all in one place, if I'm right. Or, we need to get the first and second-years in hiding — I'm thinking ahead, I don't even know if I'm right..."
While Harry babbled to himself, Luna sorted through the stack of books and took two. She scanned through the table of contents of one, flipped open the pages, and handed it to Harry. "Here, try this one. I'll take another."
He skimmed as quickly as possible, grateful to have something to keep his mind off the task he might soon be required to perform. As he read, he patted the brooch in his pocket, to make sure it was still there. "This is useless," he muttered. "It just says portals were abandoned for their Dark qualities..."
"I have it," Luna said simply, waving around a book. "And you're right. Anti-Apparation wards are tailored to that specific spell. With enough blood spilt, none of these wards would be enough to stop something like that."
"Voldemort has nothing against spilling blood," Harry muttered. Then, all of a sudden, the books on the table lifted into the air. "Hey! What's -?"
Madame Pince appeared at their table. "Go on, out. Out, out, out. You heard what the Headmistress was saying — I've a meeting, and you've a dormitory." Without another word, she levitated the books into their correct slots and ushered Harry and Luna out into the corridor. "Can I trust you to return promptly to your dormitories, or must I miss part of the meeting to ensure your safe arrival?"
Luna smiled. "Oh, we'll be fine, Madame Pince. I'm with Harry, after all."
"Yes, quite." She locked the doors and swept away.
"Come on," Harry said, "we need to get Blaise and the others. We should have at least some time... isn't midnight the most powerful time, since the moon will be highest in the sky?"
Luna nodded. "Most powerful, yes, but the whole night is a danger..."
"All the professors are in the same place, right now. Voldemort will know that, if he's bugged the Great Hall. He'll not be mad enough to attack the staff of Hogwarts in one place..." Harry let Luna take his arm again, and they headed toward the dormitories at a brisk clip. "So he'll portal in. We don't know where, and he knows the school as well as the rest of us... he's usually after me, so a safe place to bet would be Gryffindor Tower, right? He'd know from listening in that we're all in the Tower."
"We can take everyone to another dormitory, maybe. Or the library, or anywhere else, for that matter... but the Great Hall might be another good place. It's so large that he can't possibly miss, and the book said that it's an imprecise spell..."
Harry tapped the brooches in his pocket. "Imprecise... then the Great Hall seems to be a more likely target... we should have enough time to -"
A piercing scream rang down the corridors and cut him off. Harry and Luna stopped abruptly and turned back the way they came. "Oh, God -" Harry started.
"Not mad enough...? Harry, what if he means to kill all the professors first...?" Luna squeezed his arm, pulled out her wand and, without another word, started dashing down the hall toward the Great Hall.
Cursing softly, Harry followed. He took out his wand as well and, due to his longer stride, had an easy time catching up with her. The Gryffindor Tower was forgotten for the moment — should the professors fail, the students would have little hope of surviving, one way or another. His breath was in his ears, heavy, and his heart beat wildly in his fear. They thundered around the corner and Harry could see flashes of green and red coming from the half-open door of the Great Hall, a mockery of the cheerful Christmas celebrations of only four days earlier. Harry made to charge forward into the fray, but Luna yanked him aside. "Wait," she whispered. "Look first."
And so, together, they peered around the corner. Harry pulled the brooch from his pocket and tried to make ready for whatever came.
Holding his breath, brooch in one hand and Luna's wrist in the other, Harry took in the chaos that was the Great Hall. It was worse than he'd imagined: Voldemort was backed by half a dozen Death Eaters, and the professors were barricading themselves behind the tipped over Ravenclaw table near the center of the room. Motionless, Professor Sprout lay between the door and Voldemort, close enough that Harry could see a long stream of blood running from the back of her head.
He heard someone whimper softly; it could have been himself. His mind returned him to the night he crept around the school for help, only to find Draco Malfoy's life staining the floor. This was it, then — one way or another, he'd be next on the floor. He just had to take Voldemort with him. Harry hefted the ruddy brooch in his hand and took a half step forward.
"No," Luna whispered, dragging him back. "Not yet — we have to warn the others, before -"
Ruddy brooch. Wrong brooch. But the other was still in his pocket, ready to be used. He simply had to switch the two, rush the room... "You go. Get Blaise to show the rest of you where to hide. He led the Slytherins last time." Harry moved toward the door again.
Luna clung to his arm tightly. "I'm not leaving," she hissed, "this is my fight, too! I told you that! I'm serious!" And the whimsy was gone again. She looked more like the picture of her mother than Harry had thought possible — she was lovely and determined. To some extent, he felt grateful, felt flattered that someone would care enough to stand by his side.
But the flattery faded quickly once he realized what her sacrifice would be. "You can do more by going and warning people. I have to do this, Luna. I have to. It's my destiny."
"Bloody destiny," Luna snarled. "This isn't your destiny! You make your own destiny!"
"Shh!" Harry clamped his hand over her mouth, listening for a moment to the shouts of curses flying in the Great Hall. He could pick out Voldemort's voice shouting Killing Curses, and McGonagall's desperate Stunning Spells and, now and again, his father shouting something advanced or verging on the Dark. "Then I'm making my destiny. I can kill him. Don't you get that? I can end this now. All it'll cost is my life."
Luna sucked in a breath, dragging his hand away. "Then it's my life, too," she whispered. She fell silent, and Harry finally took a moment to look into her eyes.
There was fear. Fear, and love. He'd seen the fear before: the moment Sirius fell to his death through the Veil, his eyes were full of fear and confusion. In Draco Malfoy's sightless eyes, there had been fear; fear and resignation. After the attack in early December, Hermione's eyes always held the fear of death. (Hermione, he'd never see Hermione again, would Ron apologize for what Harry had to do?) Ron's were full of fear of loss, of desperation.
For a moment, Harry wondered what fear his own eyes held. Were they reflections of Sirius' confusion? Malfoy's resignation? Hermione's fear, or Ron's desperation? Or were they a reflection of his fate? This was it. This is where the past years had led: the magic, the friends, the loss. All of it brought him here, to overcome the very monster trying to kill his father in the next room. He was wasting time; he had to go, but he couldn't let Luna lose her life in the battle. He just couldn't, not when her eyes were full of compassion and love.
"It's my life, too," she repeated softly. When Harry didn't respond, she pulled from his grasp and raised her wand, rounding Harry to charge into the Great Hall.
Harry caught her before she made it and pulled her away. "I can't let you," he hissed, "I can't -"
"Harry, please, let me help," she begged.
A flash of light illuminated the darkened corridor around them and was followed by a loud cracking from within the hall. Arms still restraining Luna, Harry ducked to the side to glance into the room. What met his gaze reminded him of his task. The Ravenclaw table was split in two by some curse, and Death Eaters were attacking the professors who dove for other cover. Flitwick had joined the motionless Sprout on the floor, and Harry's blood froze as he watched the event happening in slow motion.
His father dove for other cover.
Voldemort noticed, and raised his wand.
Severus Snape was too far to make it behind the Gryffindor table in time.
The Dark Lord roared out a curse, and the flash of light filled the room.
He didn't fall though. The curse struck Harry's father directly, but it was only after a moment that the curse registered in Harry's mind; and the curse was perhaps worse than simple death might have been. It was the curse which Harry himself had used, once, to the disgust of his father. "Crucio!"
While the other professors fought for their lives, Harry's father's pain was screamed out for all the world to hear. Slowly, the man crumpled to his knees, body curling to protect his already crippled arm. Harry took a step forward, only then remembering that Luna was trapped in his arms.
"Harry," she whispered, "you need my help."
And he realized he did. Turning them both so that the sounds of Snape's screams were the only things connecting them to the battle within, Harry felt the weight of the red brooch in his hand. "I need your help," he whispered. She relaxed, and Harry leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. While she wasn't paying attention, he flicked open the pin of the brooch and slipped it onto her robe shoulder. "Bring Aurors," he whispered, "bring them as soon as you can. I'm sorry."
"What?" Luna tried to grab a tight hold on Harry's arm, but he was already pulling away.
He ran his finger over the brooch and whispered, "Start," just had Luna had instructed him on Christmas Day. Before the illegal portkey could draw him in, as well, he took a large step back and watched as Luna, eyes now filled with betrayal, popped out of existence to where ever her father lay in hiding.
This was it, then. He fished the other brooch from his pocket and locked the pin into position. His father's screams were overwhelming. Harry raised his wand and charged around the corner.
At first, no one seemed to notice him. Voldemort was close to the door, just past the prone bodies of Flitwick and Sprout. The other Death Eaters were arrayed in the back of the room, chasing down the staff who tried to escape through the back exit. At Voldemort's feet was the object of his attention, paces away and screaming his pain.
It seemed almost to be too easy, until a Death Eater noticed his presence and shrieked warning. Harry turned his wand and yelled, "Stupefy!" watching the man fall to the ground.
"You're right on time," Voldemort snarled, dropping the curse on Harry's father.
Harry didn't stop his forward momentum, not even when Snape threw out his good arm and begged him to get away.
"Come the turning of the year, the boy will live no more. Only black can save his life, and only blood can change for right. But the Boy Who Lived — the hero cannot be saved."
With Trellawney's words in his mind, Harry threw himself forward.
Voldemort looked surprised, as though he expected Harry to take a stand and make a verbal challenge. When it became apparent that Harry's simple plan was to attack him physically, Voldemort turned his wand on the Gryffindor and started the dread curse. "AV-"
It was slow motion again. Harry was sprinting forward, yelling his own response. "VITUE -"
His father was screaming in agony, now, not from the pain of Cruciatus but from the desperation to save his flesh and blood. He reached for Harry and, in his mad rush, Harry tripped over him. Harry started to go down, flailing for purchase.
Voldemort's wand followed him. "-ADA KEDA-"
"-RE TU!" Harry caught the Dark Lord's sleeve, and went tumbling into him. The tip of Voldemort's wand was pressed to his forehead, at the center of the scar the wand had created. Poetic justice, then, that they would die locked in combat, when it should have happened years before.
Harry stabbed the brooch into Voldemort's body — hip, stomach, chest, he wasn't sure what was closest — at the same moment as the spell was completed. "-VRA!" Except the Killing Curse faded into a wail of agony, and as the flash of green filled all of Harry's existence, he could see Voldemort crumpling, too.
Did the villain still have a soul? Was this last gesture enough? He could only hope, as he would never know. He wondered if this was what Sirius felt as he fell through the Veil: breath did not come, and green was overtaking his vision. Green, then white, hot pain, and then black. As the room tilted and faded, he could hear his father sobbing — and then it was gone.