----
Chapter 11 – Closure
----
The water receded, leaving the pitch littered with charred wooden beams and corpses. A single harrowing figure stood in the middle, bathed in moonlight, and clad in lavish robes of the blackest of black. But it wasn't Lucius Malfoy.
"Cowards! Where are my faithful Death Eaters? Indolent fools! Do years of service and sacrifice mean nothing to you? Where is the bloodshed I was promised! Do you dare to oppose the Dark Lord Voldemort?" His icy metallic voice rang out over the field. "Shall anyone stand to face me? Or do you surrender? Shall I claim my victory over the Light? Is the wizarding world mine to rule yet?" His shrill cackle rang painful in the cowering ears of all who stood by, watching in awe and terror, but also a slight degree of humor, as his claims were somewhat lofty for someone standing in the middle of a vast ruined nothingness.
Harry and Snape mounted their brooms and cautiously flew down to the pitch.
"Ah, Severus. My faithful servant," Voldemort said with a sarcastic and evil sneer. "I doubted you from the moment you came crawling back on your hands and knees begging for forgiveness. You are as evil, sly, underhanded, deceptive, two-faced, and sinister as you were when you took the Mark. I have trained you well. But your allegiance has failed you. Crucio!" With a cold laugh, Snape crumpled on the ground as excruciating spasms wracked his body.
Harry pointed his wand, a fiercely determined look painted across his prematurely aged visage.
"How dare you! You cruel, horrid…"
"Harry, I dare because I can. And you, a boy no older than sixteen, dare to challenge the Dark Lord Voldemort?"
Harry stood resolute, wand still pointed at his nemesis.
"I dare because it was stated in a prophecy that I must."
"Foolish boy! Such a poor motivation! It is left on your shoulders to save the entire wizarding world, and your only motivation to kill me is a prophecy? Do you scoff at the Lord Voldemort's powers because a charlatan of a seer said you should?"
Voldemort circled Harry, idly twirling his wand with a disturbing air of confidence.
"You did not defeat me at the age of eleven because of your dear mudblood mother, simply avoiding my wrath for another year. You defeated a shadow of my past, but only because of that fleabag old bird of Dumbledore's. You could not face down my right-hand man when you were thirteen. I killed your little friend after the Triwizard Tournament, and you barely escaped with your life on a shot of luck. The only reason I did not kill you at the Ministry of Magic was because that doddering old fool of a wizard Dumbledore came to your defense. And now, you stand face to face with your nemesis. I marked you for the slaughter when you were an infant, and now I plan to uphold my end of the prophecy. And you dare to challenge me again because of a little glass ball."
"No. I dare to challenge you to destroy a wizard who is my equal only because he was foolish enough not to check the prophecy twice before acting. Should have checked the prophecy again. You could be fighting Neville Longbottom of all people…"
"HEY! I resent that!" came from one of the remaining towers, but Harry went on.
"Neville Longbottom, who couldn't do an Impediment Jinx to save his life. Neville Longbottom, who's so scared of his own shadow that he looks behind him every few steps to make sure it's still following at a safe distance. THAT Neville Longbottom. If you hadn't been so foolish as to assume that I was the one in the prophecy, the Dark could have defeated the Light ages ago, and all would be right in your world. But no. You're foolish, Riddle. Very foolish indeed."
While Harry was giving his speech, quite the angry mob had formed on the pitch. Hermione had run down the stairs of one of the spectator towers shortly after Snape had gone down, and was now crouched down to check on him. Ginny, the Weasley twins, Angelina Johnson, Lee Jordan, Tonks, Neville, Mundungus, Lupin, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Sturgis Podmore, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Mad-Eye Moody had all made their way down to the pitch and were now gathered behind, and various other DA and Order members flew above on brooms. The Death Eaters continued to cower wherever they were, more out of fear of their Lord than fear of Dumbledore's forces of the Light.
"Boy, I could take out that entire group of yours with a single spell!"
"I'd like to see you try." They entire group raised their wands and pointed them straight at Voldemort.
"I have no fear for your cohorts! Their powers were not named in the prophecy! Expelliarmus!" He fired the jinx at the group at large and managed to knock a fair few wands loose. The group ran for the moat, those with wands protecting the wandless. Only Snape, Ginny, Fred, George, Neville, Tonks, and Hermione remained at Harry's side, wands clutched firmly at their sides.
"You see how easily I send your little friends running?"
"And where are your little friends? I'm not afraid of you, Tom Marvolo Riddle."
"Do not call me by my filthy muggle father's name! I am Lord Voldemort! You shall fear everything that name stands for!"
The two drew their wands, both unwaveringly staring each other down, poised to duel at any moment.
Harry dropped his wand, raised his hands parallel to his head in resignation, and said in his best mocking deadpan voice, "You're right. You are far more powerful than I will ever be. I fear you and everything you stand for."
"Enjoy your last moments, for I will torment you beyond your wildest fears, then send you to rot with your filthy mudblood mother! CRU—"
But Snape had drawn his wand and tossed it into Harry's waiting hand. Harry raised the ebony weapon and, with all the fury stored up in his veins, screamed the two words the Dark Lord Voldemort had dreaded would come from the young boy.
A flash of green light later, Lord Voldemort lay dead on the ground by Harry Potter's hand, but Severus Snape's wand. Between them, they had overcome the most-feared wizard in history, the prophecy, and the curse of the phoenix-feathered brother-wands.
----
Harry stood in the center of the pitch, clutching his uncle's wand, chest heaving in disbelief, and gazing at the crumpled form before him.
After letting reality sink in for a moment, Ginny ran to her boyfriend and held him in the tightest of hugs, not daring to let go any time soon. Hermione soon joined in, clinging to her best friend for dear life. Almost immediately, the entire DA was on their leader, cheering, screaming, laughing, and patting him on the back. Harry looked down at the two most important women in his life, kissed Ginny on the forehead, then looked at Hermione.
"You think I should have thrown in a 'My name is Harry Potter. You killed my parents. Prepare to die.' Just for good measure?"
Hermione laughed, then tackled him and Ginny to the ground, leaving the Army and the Order to their screaming, laughing, crying group hugs around them. Harry's roommates soon joined in on the Harry-dog pile.
Ron limped over from where he was hiding, still rather sore from the failed Avada Kedavra he had received. He pushed and shoved his way through the celebrating masses and stood over his group of friends who were rolling on the ground and laughing.
"Oi! Save us some room, will ya!" He leapt on top, and was soon enveloped in the rolling, group-hugging, hysterical group of teenagers.
Dumbledore looked around the quidditch stadium from the spectator tower where he had been observing the battle, a deep sense of triumph running through his veins. A grin spread across his face as he raised his wand and levitated the body of the Dark Lord Voldemort up to the tallest goal post in the quidditch field and cast a binding spell. As everyone celebrated below, he repeated the process on the rest of the deceased Death Eaters.
It was a sight to behold: The defeated members of the Dark, all hanging in effigy around the quidditch stadium.
Chapter 11 – Closure
----
The water receded, leaving the pitch littered with charred wooden beams and corpses. A single harrowing figure stood in the middle, bathed in moonlight, and clad in lavish robes of the blackest of black. But it wasn't Lucius Malfoy.
"Cowards! Where are my faithful Death Eaters? Indolent fools! Do years of service and sacrifice mean nothing to you? Where is the bloodshed I was promised! Do you dare to oppose the Dark Lord Voldemort?" His icy metallic voice rang out over the field. "Shall anyone stand to face me? Or do you surrender? Shall I claim my victory over the Light? Is the wizarding world mine to rule yet?" His shrill cackle rang painful in the cowering ears of all who stood by, watching in awe and terror, but also a slight degree of humor, as his claims were somewhat lofty for someone standing in the middle of a vast ruined nothingness.
Harry and Snape mounted their brooms and cautiously flew down to the pitch.
"Ah, Severus. My faithful servant," Voldemort said with a sarcastic and evil sneer. "I doubted you from the moment you came crawling back on your hands and knees begging for forgiveness. You are as evil, sly, underhanded, deceptive, two-faced, and sinister as you were when you took the Mark. I have trained you well. But your allegiance has failed you. Crucio!" With a cold laugh, Snape crumpled on the ground as excruciating spasms wracked his body.
Harry pointed his wand, a fiercely determined look painted across his prematurely aged visage.
"How dare you! You cruel, horrid…"
"Harry, I dare because I can. And you, a boy no older than sixteen, dare to challenge the Dark Lord Voldemort?"
Harry stood resolute, wand still pointed at his nemesis.
"I dare because it was stated in a prophecy that I must."
"Foolish boy! Such a poor motivation! It is left on your shoulders to save the entire wizarding world, and your only motivation to kill me is a prophecy? Do you scoff at the Lord Voldemort's powers because a charlatan of a seer said you should?"
Voldemort circled Harry, idly twirling his wand with a disturbing air of confidence.
"You did not defeat me at the age of eleven because of your dear mudblood mother, simply avoiding my wrath for another year. You defeated a shadow of my past, but only because of that fleabag old bird of Dumbledore's. You could not face down my right-hand man when you were thirteen. I killed your little friend after the Triwizard Tournament, and you barely escaped with your life on a shot of luck. The only reason I did not kill you at the Ministry of Magic was because that doddering old fool of a wizard Dumbledore came to your defense. And now, you stand face to face with your nemesis. I marked you for the slaughter when you were an infant, and now I plan to uphold my end of the prophecy. And you dare to challenge me again because of a little glass ball."
"No. I dare to challenge you to destroy a wizard who is my equal only because he was foolish enough not to check the prophecy twice before acting. Should have checked the prophecy again. You could be fighting Neville Longbottom of all people…"
"HEY! I resent that!" came from one of the remaining towers, but Harry went on.
"Neville Longbottom, who couldn't do an Impediment Jinx to save his life. Neville Longbottom, who's so scared of his own shadow that he looks behind him every few steps to make sure it's still following at a safe distance. THAT Neville Longbottom. If you hadn't been so foolish as to assume that I was the one in the prophecy, the Dark could have defeated the Light ages ago, and all would be right in your world. But no. You're foolish, Riddle. Very foolish indeed."
While Harry was giving his speech, quite the angry mob had formed on the pitch. Hermione had run down the stairs of one of the spectator towers shortly after Snape had gone down, and was now crouched down to check on him. Ginny, the Weasley twins, Angelina Johnson, Lee Jordan, Tonks, Neville, Mundungus, Lupin, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Sturgis Podmore, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Mad-Eye Moody had all made their way down to the pitch and were now gathered behind, and various other DA and Order members flew above on brooms. The Death Eaters continued to cower wherever they were, more out of fear of their Lord than fear of Dumbledore's forces of the Light.
"Boy, I could take out that entire group of yours with a single spell!"
"I'd like to see you try." They entire group raised their wands and pointed them straight at Voldemort.
"I have no fear for your cohorts! Their powers were not named in the prophecy! Expelliarmus!" He fired the jinx at the group at large and managed to knock a fair few wands loose. The group ran for the moat, those with wands protecting the wandless. Only Snape, Ginny, Fred, George, Neville, Tonks, and Hermione remained at Harry's side, wands clutched firmly at their sides.
"You see how easily I send your little friends running?"
"And where are your little friends? I'm not afraid of you, Tom Marvolo Riddle."
"Do not call me by my filthy muggle father's name! I am Lord Voldemort! You shall fear everything that name stands for!"
The two drew their wands, both unwaveringly staring each other down, poised to duel at any moment.
Harry dropped his wand, raised his hands parallel to his head in resignation, and said in his best mocking deadpan voice, "You're right. You are far more powerful than I will ever be. I fear you and everything you stand for."
"Enjoy your last moments, for I will torment you beyond your wildest fears, then send you to rot with your filthy mudblood mother! CRU—"
But Snape had drawn his wand and tossed it into Harry's waiting hand. Harry raised the ebony weapon and, with all the fury stored up in his veins, screamed the two words the Dark Lord Voldemort had dreaded would come from the young boy.
A flash of green light later, Lord Voldemort lay dead on the ground by Harry Potter's hand, but Severus Snape's wand. Between them, they had overcome the most-feared wizard in history, the prophecy, and the curse of the phoenix-feathered brother-wands.
----
Harry stood in the center of the pitch, clutching his uncle's wand, chest heaving in disbelief, and gazing at the crumpled form before him.
After letting reality sink in for a moment, Ginny ran to her boyfriend and held him in the tightest of hugs, not daring to let go any time soon. Hermione soon joined in, clinging to her best friend for dear life. Almost immediately, the entire DA was on their leader, cheering, screaming, laughing, and patting him on the back. Harry looked down at the two most important women in his life, kissed Ginny on the forehead, then looked at Hermione.
"You think I should have thrown in a 'My name is Harry Potter. You killed my parents. Prepare to die.' Just for good measure?"
Hermione laughed, then tackled him and Ginny to the ground, leaving the Army and the Order to their screaming, laughing, crying group hugs around them. Harry's roommates soon joined in on the Harry-dog pile.
Ron limped over from where he was hiding, still rather sore from the failed Avada Kedavra he had received. He pushed and shoved his way through the celebrating masses and stood over his group of friends who were rolling on the ground and laughing.
"Oi! Save us some room, will ya!" He leapt on top, and was soon enveloped in the rolling, group-hugging, hysterical group of teenagers.
Dumbledore looked around the quidditch stadium from the spectator tower where he had been observing the battle, a deep sense of triumph running through his veins. A grin spread across his face as he raised his wand and levitated the body of the Dark Lord Voldemort up to the tallest goal post in the quidditch field and cast a binding spell. As everyone celebrated below, he repeated the process on the rest of the deceased Death Eaters.
It was a sight to behold: The defeated members of the Dark, all hanging in effigy around the quidditch stadium.