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Not Myself by Saerry Snape

Chapter 180 – Thy Battle Comith

"They're coming."

Harry turned, the Elven long sword Sheen had given him naked in his hand. The scimitar Tylwys had given him hung at his right hip – as the scabbard for the long sword hung on his left – and the sheathed presence of the Elven blade Maylayne Ardwith had given his ancestor loomed on his back. From his neck dangled the basilisk medallion Ginny had given him before his third year and the Elven rune for loyalty that had been the gift from Marlan. He was armed and armored, showing his heritage and gifts that had been given him by those he trusted.

"They're coming," repeated Niamh, her eyes opaque. She sat slumped against the wall of the parapet where Harry had placed her after she had stumbled into their planning room, her face pale and sweating. That was where she had been for the past hour and still nothing could dislodge her mind from whatever force held her. Not even the upcoming battled

"He's coming?" whispered Neville in a frightened tone from behind Harry.

"Voldemort," confirmed the dark-haired wizard. "And his Death Eaters."

"Along with whatever army he has managed to gather," said Mika as he came up beside Harry. He rubbed his hands over his arms and growled, "Damn, I'm getting chills!"

Harry's brow wrinkled about his scar and he hissed, "He's getting closer."

"Yeah," said Mika. "I sort of feel…a pull…in that direction. But I don't want to go. And – surprisingly – neither does the wolf."

Harry gave him a searching look but Mika's eyes were staring off into the distance. He knew that the human and the wolf parts of the boy – no, young man – standing beside him often did not get along. But apparently the wolf didn't even want a part in the Dark Lord's schemes.

"My scar's burning," whispered Harry, barely noting Ginny and Hermione as they joined them. "And I…I can feel him. He's proud. He thinks he's won."

"Does he really?" sneered Draco as he came up on Harry's other side.

Harry's thin lips pulled back from his teeth in a feral grin and his eyes glittered menacingly.

"He's counting the eggs in the chicken house before they've even been laid."

"Well, don't you miscount yours," said Hermione sternly.

"I won't, Mione," swore Harry. "Where's Ron?"

"Downstairs in the Hall showing the professors our attack plans," replied Ginny. "I bet the twin's will never taunt him about his chess-playing again after this."

"If we make it out of this," said Neville softly.

"We will," said Draco. "We've got our mighty Elven warrior here to defend us."

"Don't rely on one person to turn a pitched battle, Draco," said Harry. "That was the first rule I learned from the War Masters."

"What was the second?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Never outmarch your baggage."

"Oh."

They all fell silent for a moment until Niamh whimpered and twitched. Harry turned towards her and knelt down, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.

Her head arched towards him and she hissed, "He comes. He comes and many will fall. So many…" She broke into sobs then and Harry drew back, then stopped. Instead he leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead before he rose to his feet. He turned towards Draco and sheathed the long sword he held in his hand. After that, he began to untie the thongs that held it to his belt.

Hermione frowned and asked, "What are you doing?"

"What needs to be done," replied Harry. He turned, sword in hand, and held it out towards Draco. "I trust you know how to use this."

"Please," said Draco. "I learned from the best."

"Good. I'm giving you one job, Draco. Protect Ni."

"And keep out of the battle?"

Harry frowned and repeated, "Protect Ni."

Draco looked at the sheathed sword he held then up at Harry. Curiosity burned in his gray eyes.

"Why me, Harry?"

"Blatantly, you're the only one I trust for the job."

"She won't like it too much."

"I could care less. I want her safe and you're the person for the job."

"Alright, sir Elf. I'll protect her."

Harry scowled and turned away from the blonde to look across the grounds. "Don't call me that," he grumbled.

"What? Sir Elf?"

"I'm not an Elf."

"Your not a full-blooded wizard, either."

"I don't know what I am," sighed Harry. "But I do know that if you don't protect her, I'll come back from the dead or seek you in the afterlife and haunt you for the rest of your days."

"I believe it. And I'll do my best."

Harry smirked and closed his eyes. His chin fell to his chest as he whispered, "In the words of a brave Elven warrior, don't do your best. Do your worst."

"Bloodshed and all?"

"Yep."

"Cheers then," said Draco, grinning as he tied the long sword onto his belt.

"Here they come!" shouted Neville. He leaned over the side of the parapet and pointed towards the edge of the woods. A line of darkly robed figure had appeared there and at their head strode a confident man with the eyes of a serpent.

"Voldemort," spat Harry, his eyes flooding black.

Dodge. Weave. Duck. Parry. THRUST! Turn. Parry. THRUST!

Harry jerked his scimitar out of the side of a Death Eater and reflected a hex back on another with its bloodied blade. He hurled a throwing dagger at the back of a Death Eater that was about to hex an unsuspecting Auror, causing the cloaked figure to crumple. The Auror – one of the many Rebecca and Tonks had managed to wrangle into their plans – shot a grin at the young wizard before he plunged back into battle.

Harry strode forward two feet then sensed something swooping down at his unprotected back. Spinning, he brought up the scimitar to block, both hands on the hilt…

The Elven blade shattered under the force of the sword that struck it but succeeded in deflecting it. Harry watched the shards of the gift Tylwys had given him fall to the grass then looked up into the eyes of his attacker.

"Well, well," said Voldemort, scarlet eyes burning. "So we meet at last on the field of battle, young Potter. Or should I say Snape?"

"Pick whichever you want," snarled Harry. "I'll answer to neither at your bidding!" He ripped his ancestors sword from its bindings on his back and the blade burst into argent green fire. The cat's eye in the hilt blinked and began to glow as though it sensed the battle being waged about it and wished to be used. The blade itself hummed and the sword Ardwynhén sang out its lust for battle.

"You could be so much more if you joined me," purred Voldemort. "You could even have that pretty girl of yours without having to worry about her safety."

"You ought to know I'd never join you. Not after all you've done to me. And not after all you've done to my family!"

"Oh, why yes. Your wolfen friend. He is your kin, is he not? As well is the young Malfoy. You stole him from me. I thought I'd take something of yours in return but, alas, the white-haired brat resisted."

"Are we going to fight or talk?" snarled Harry, holding Ardwynhén loosely in his hand as he dropped into a fighting stance.

Voldemort shook his head and tutted.

"Ah, the young. So eager to die."

"I'm not eager to die," growled Harry. "Just eager to kill you."

Voldemort grinned and said, "My, my, you'd make a fearsome Dark Wizard. Didn't the Gauntlet I sent you do the trick?"

Harry sneered and reached up with his free hand to roll up his right sleeve. The Elven runes that lay upon the flesh of his arm seemed to burn with a dark green light as they were revealed.

"Here's the trick the Gauntlet did. It nearly killed my friend. So I took it. Turns out that me doing that destroyed everything Dark about the Gauntlet." Harry grinned ferally and added, "And it's allied itself with me now. Your plan failed."

"This one will not," snarled Voldemort.

And without further warning, he attacked.

"Hmm, protect a man's lady love. Such a job only would be given to a Malfoy."

"Uh!"

Draco turned from where he stood looking down at the battle being waged below him and looked at Niamh. He had moved her over to sit near the door that led off the parapet and the gray tabby cat that she'd given Severus had appeared, curling up in her lap.

Mrs. Norris, to his surprise, had also appeared as well. The cat sat at Niamh's side, her red eyes glittering with something that he could not discern. Perhaps it was sympathy.

"O'Feir?" whispered Draco as he slowly approach her.

Niamh's head jerked back and forth and her right hand clenched in the gray tabby's fur. The cat – simply named Cat – looked up and blinked its yellow eyes.

"Mrow?"

Draco knelt down beside her and gently touched the dark-haired girl's shoulder.

"O'Feir?" he said again. Then he frowned and said, "Niamh?"

The dark-haired girl jerked and her head turned towards him. Her blue eyes, opaque and milky white now, stared blankly at him and made him draw back.

"It's happening," she whispered. "Its…its…no! No! HARRY!"

Niamh jerked again and a shrill scream ripped itself from her throat. Her back arched and her body convulsed even as Draco tried to hold her down.

And from the battlefield below them, came a cry of agony.

Fire! White-hot fire that pierced his chest!

Harry gasped and his fingers scrabbled at the grass around him. Grass that was slowly being stained with his own blood.

He'd fought Voldemort blow for blow, trick for trick, until Lucius Malfoy had appeared and hurled a curse at his unprotected back. Harry had fallen and Voldemort had picked up Ardwynhén, seemingly unmindful of the sword burning his hand.

As Harry lay on the ground, unarmed and twitching from Lucius' curse, Voldemort had struck him.

With his own sword.

Harry gasped for breath and lifted his head. Ardwynhén's blade pierced his chest and pinned him securely to the ground. He could feel his heart laboring to keep him alive but it couldn't do it. His life was bleeding out onto the Hogwarts grass.

He was dying.

"Goodnight, sweet prince."

Harry sneered and coughed. He was aware of his own blood on his lips and he bared his teeth at Voldemort, who towered above him.

"Don't…quote…poetry…to…me," snarled Harry in a hoarse voice.

Voldemort just smirked and settled back to watch the Boy-Who-Lived die.

Harry coughed up more blood and his chest heaved as he fought to breath. Already he felt the cold chill of Death creeping up on him. It was funny how it felt just like a Dementor's touch…

NO!

Jar… thought Harry weakly. Tell Ni…I…tell her…

Harry's eyes flew wide, green as emeralds and without a trace of the black of the Tethdaìr within them. His mouth gaped as his heart labored one last time. Then died…

No! shouted Jardin, diving from the air and landing on the young man's chest. It will not be this way! NO!

Voldemort started towards the bird with murder in his eyes but a wall of fire stopped him. Jardin, his golden eyes reflecting the flames he'd summoned, turned towards his bond. He looked at the lifeless face and thought of Niamh.

Then he made his choice.

Life for life, blood for blood, flesh for flesh, soul for soul. These I offer, I, Jardin, last of the Altair Ravens. My life for that of my lifebond, Harold Jamison Snape. This I give, freely and without remorse. So mote it be!

Lightning flashed from a cloudless sky and struck. It hit the exact spot where Harry lay and a scream of intense agony seemed to fly in upon the wind. A wind, fierce and cold, blew unrelentingly across the battlefield for a few moments that stretched into minutes.

Then…it was all gone.

Voldemort looked up and saw the fire that had blocked his path gone. But beyond where it had been, Harry sat up slowly, wincingly. Ardwynhén lay on the ground beside him with his own blood on it and next it laid the still form of a dark bird.

Jardin had given his life for that of the wizard he'd been bound to six years before.

Harry, confused beyond belief, stared at the battle still being waged around him. Then he saw Jardin's lifeless body and a gaping chasm of grief opened up in his soul.

"No," he whispered, reaching out towards the valiant bird's body. He searched his mind, vainly reaching for the connection, that line that had connected the raven to him. But he couldn't find it. Only darkness remained to taunt him.

Jardin was gone.

Harry let out a soft keening noise, brushing his fingers against Jardin's feathers. He then looked up and his face hardened as he saw Voldemort standing there glaring at him.

"You," spat Harry, rising unsteadily to his feet. "You…did this."

"The bird made his own choice," said Voldemort calmly. "Not much good it did. You can't fight me anymore."

As though to prove this point, he strode forward and shoved Harry backwards. His hand touched the place where Ardwynhén had pierced the young man's chest and forced him to cry out. Harry fell to the ground, one hand clapping down over the jagged scar that lay just above his heart. Jardin's sacrifice had healed him but only to the point where he was just alive.

In his current state, he couldn't have fought the weakest wizard and won.

Voldemort smirked and picked up Ardwynhén, slowly moving towards the unmoving Harry.

"Helpless again. And this time there is no one to save you!"

Ardwynhén lifted high and Harry stared defiantly up into the face of Death. He watched the glittering blade as it fell…

…and was intercepted.

A dark shape had thrown itself it front of the descending blade and Ardwynhén was now buried in its chest. Voldemort's eyes widened in shock and he hissed, "Fool!"

Severus Snape, pain in his dark eyes but triumph on his lips, laughed and said, "Less a fool than I used to be." Then he collapsed at the feet of his son, who scrambled forward.

"Da!"

Harry ripped Ardwynhén from his father's chest and tried to use the man's cloak to staunch the flow of blood. He cradled the man in his arms and shook with wild tremors.

"Da…"

Severus smiled up at his son then coughed, bringing up blood. He slowly reached up and patted the young man's pale cheek.

"You were a blessing…to a man who had nothing left…in the world," gasped Severus. "I…I am proud…to…have called you…son."

Harry's eyes prickled and he felt the cold trickle of tears pouring down his cheeks.

"Dad…"

"I…love you," mumbled Severus, his hand falling to his side. "Remember that…"

The dark clad chest heaved then fell still and Harry sobbed, "Dad!" He clutched the man in his arms close and cried into the dark hair.

In the Great Hall of Hogwarts, Dumbledore looked up as the green hourglass that had marked the points for Slytherin House shattered, sending younger students scattering from where they'd huddled beneath it. The green sand fell to the floor in a glittering cascade and he bowed his head, knowing what had happened.

Further away upon the Elven plane, Sheen Ardwith ran through her castle. She burst into the library and fell to her knees in front of the wall that marked the line of the Elven Royalty. Sobbing, she collapsed against the wall and the name that had faded away. From the doorway, her lover Amadeus bowed his head and shed his own tears.

And on the Hogwarts grounds, Severus Snape – spy, Auror, Death Eater, and father – lay dead within his son's arms.

Author's Note

PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!!!