Chapter Thirty Four: The Final Battle
"You! Stevens!" Dumbledore called out to the group of first years that was exiting the Great Hall.
"Professor?"
"Get Professor McGonagall down here... hurry, now, boy! And you, Flint! Go for Professor Snape..."
"I am here, Headmaster," Snape came through from the entrance to the dungeons, just as Poppy Pomfrey ran out to the head of the staircase.
"Headmaster! Lights... fire in the village!" she called down.
"Yes, Poppy... I am aware. I regret to inform you that this is it... this is what we have been awaiting. The attack of Voldemort and his followers is at hand... the final battle has come to us. Go and prepare the Hospital Wing... we will no doubt need it before this night is over."
Students began coming into the main hall, some on their way through to the library and other places, others because they had seen light in the sky over Hogsmeade from the various towers.
Pansy Parkinson ran down the stairs. "Harry...?"
"Ah, Miss Parkinson," Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Just the witch I need."
"Professor?" she turned frightened eyes to him.
"Miss Parkinson... I have a very special job for you, and everything... everything... relies on your ability to do this. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"You must go to my office... the password for the gargoyle is 'Tootsie Pops'..."
"Yes, sir?"
"You must place a floo call... you know how to do this?"
"Yes, sir."
"You must ask for "Headquarters"... do you understand that?"
Pansy nodded. "Yes."
"Remus Lupin or Alastor Moody will be there. Give them this message... 'It has begun at Hogwarts'."
"Yes, sir..."
"Now, go, Miss Parkinson... as fast as you can. We are all relying on you!"
And Pansy flew. Harry had never seen the Slytherin girl move so quickly.
"Pray to Merlin we were right about her," Terry Boot muttered.
"We were," Harry said confidently.
"Albus?" Minerva McGonagall pushed her way through the crowd. "What on earth...?"
"It has begun, Minerva. You must go... gather the teachers, have the prefects organize the students. Third year and below in the Chamber under the school..."
"Professor Dumbledore..." a small figure pushed out from behind McGonagall. "I'm sorry to interrupt, sir... but..."
"Mr Stevens?"
"I... I'm only first year, sir... but... but I can do a Patronus... lots of us can do things that... well, they've taught us in DA club..."
"Mr Stevens... that is quite an accomplishment, I assure you. But I am relying on those of you who can to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Do you understand?"
Stevens swallowed, nodded, and stepped back. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."
"No... do not be sorry for your bravery, young man. We will need all of that that is allowed us before this is through. Now go... help the prefects... Minerva... the prefects will be needed. Leave Stevens... and others like him... in no doubt of their duty, and bring the prefects back here... we will need to fight... every last one of us."
McGonagall nodded and swiftly moved away. Harry and the others turned back to Dumbledore.
"The fight is at hand, my children," Dumbledore looked sadly at each of them. "Perhaps... well, it is too late now. You have trained well... now it is time to test what you have learned."
And tested it was. None who were there that night would ever forget what happened... how terrible it was. Nor would they forget the horror that was unleashed. None, least of all those who were the first out through the front doors of the school.
Harry and his group followed Dumbledore, who had his wand in one hand, and the Sword of Gryffindor in the other. Two hundred yards away stood a lone figure, just inside the wards that protected the school.
Outside the wards, which glowed orange in the night against the threat outside, were hundreds of robed figures... masked, robed figures.
Death Eaters.
But the lone figure, glowing with faith, long red hair and tattered white robes billowing in the breeze, raised her arms above her head and chanted... echoing in the darkness, her voice rose high above the noise of the army beyond, and Harry and the others watched as the glow that lit her from within increased, intensifying...
"Back, you fools! Back! Erinye! Erinye! Move! Back!" Another voice screamed, but to no avail. As they realized their mistake, and made to move back, they were hindered by those behind them who had not yet had it sink in that this was a very dangerous place to be. Stumbling over each other in their haste, they were too slow to escape what came.
With a crackle of lightening, and a swift explosion of light, Daisy Evans exited the ward barrier around the school, her body disappearing in the pure white light, and those around her being flattened to the earth by the blast of energy.
They watched, awestruck, as many of the Death Eaters fell under the pressure of the glow that encompassed them, for one brief moment, before disappearing entirely.
I have done what I can, Harry... the rest is up to you.
Harry flinched at the pain, but accepted it gladly. He knew it would be the last time he heard her voice. She had sacraficed herself to hold off Voldemort's forces until they could organize, and he was grateful.
Taking a deep breath, his wand ahead of him, Harry began to walk forward, towards the crowd beyond the barrier... knowing that the wards would hold out the Death Eaters while they were able to, but knowing also, that they would not hold him in.
As he exited the barrier, he had no more time to think. As quickly as the Death Eaters had retreated at the sight of his aunt, they returned upon seeing him.
"It is Potter! Get him! Bring him to the Master!"
Around him, he threw curse after curse, no longer caring what was acceptable to the Ministry and what was not. He was fighting for his life... for the lives of those he loved... for the continuation of the Light. He no longer cared what means he had to employ to accomplish this... he simply knew he had to. He felt the pain as he was hit by minor curses... bloody streamed down his leg as he was caught with the edge of a cutting curse that had been directed at someone behind him.
Brief glimpses of those around him showed Ron, Terry, Hermione... fighting as they had never fought in classes. Hermione had blood dripping down the side of her face... he spared a millisecond to pray that she would be alright.
Colin Creevy rushed forward, past Harry as he turned, taking out a Death Eater as they were about to throw the Death Curse. Colin took out him, and three others as he went, screaming curses one after another, his wand a blur as it moved.
And Ginny. Harry caught sight of her, off to his left, flanked by... the twins? When had they...
It wouldn't matter when the twins had arrived if Harry didn't concentrate. He turned his thoughts back to the crowd around him, and threw curse after curse, fighting his way forward, through, under and over the bodies of Death Eaters as they fell. One by one, he took out those who blocked his path.
Until his path was no longer blocked.
"So, Potter... we meet again," the low, cold voice spoke. "You didn't really think that coming through the wards to us would keep us out, did you? The moment I finish with you, I intend to finish that inept Headmaster... and the wards will fall..."
"I don't think so, Tom," Harry growled.
The use of his first name caused a moment of hatred to show in the Dark Lord's eyes. "You shall pay for every disrespect you have shown... to each of my loyal followers..."
"Like Wormtail?" Harry growled. "Forgive me... he killed my parents... I'm sure you'll understand my... dislike."
"Ah, yes... Wormtail... a useful little rodent... wasn't he?"
Harry hitched an eyebrow and looked at him.
"Unfortunate, the failure of that whole muggle thing in Southhampton..."
Harry burned.
"He was supposed to... play... with the muggle bitch and make her mate watch... I had very much hoped to share those images with the lovely Miss Granger..."
"Unfortunate that it didn't work out the way you had planned, then," Harry growled. "You must be so disappointed."
"Yes, quite," Voldemort's eyes glowed red from under his hood. "Wormtail displeased me for the last time."
Harry suddenly understood, and much to his disgust felt a moment of pity for his father's old friend. Peter Pettigrew, he knew instinctively, hadn't always been evil, only weak.
He was surprised to see Voldemort flinch. Only slightly, but there, all the same. A flinch when...
Harry thought of Hermione, and Mr and Mrs Granger. He remembered the feel of Mrs Granger's arms around him as she had hugged him in greeting at their Easter visit, the comfort that had offered, the love of Hermione's family that he had felt...
And Voldemort flinched again... harder this time.
"Master... please... let me..." the low voice of the Death Eater to Voldemort's left caught Harry's attention.
"Malfoy," he greeted coldly. "You just can't stay out of trouble, can you?"
"Potter... I told you, again and again... you would pay. I told you that there was time... you could have been here... in my place... next to my great Lord..."
"I don't think so, Draco. I never was sidekick material."
Harry watched the grey eyes glow with hatred before Malfoy turned back to Voldemort...
"Please, my Lord... allow me the honor of separating Potter's head from his shoulders..."
Voldemort laughed, a deep, other-worldly laugh that caused shivers to run down Harry's spine. Harry knew that he would never forget that laugh... it made him feel as the Dementors made him feel... sad, and alone...
"Do as you will, my young novitiate... I shall watch, and enjoy the amusement you provide me."
Draco drew his wand, and immediately, Harry found himself duelling yet again, until suddenly, it was over... Draco had fallen, but not by Harry's wand. Harry glanced over, behind him, to find Pansy Parkinson standing, her wand drawn, staring at the body of Draco Malfoy.
Voldemort stiffened. "You are misguided, Miss Parkinson... as your mother told me..."
"My mother...?" Pansy stared at him. "My mother is part of what made him... into that... that wasn't my Draco... that was a monster... someone who came to love causing pain to others so much... so much, that he no longer differentiated between those who loved him and those who didn't... he... he was evil!"
"You say that like it's a bad thing, my dear," Voldemort said quietly.
"You..." Pansy's eyes were wild as she flew at him, her wand raised...
Harry barely had enough time to throw a shield in front of her... the Death Curse didn't hit her with it's full force, but it was still strong enough to drop her to the ground, unconscious.
Harry turned back to Voldemort, wand in hand.
Voldemort, laughing, shook his head.
"You forget, Potter..."
"What do I forget, Tom?"
"That wand cannot be used against me. It cannot kill me."
"This wand?" Harry held it up. "Look closely, Tom..."
And he began to draw on every good feeling he'd ever had... every moment with Ron and Hermione, laughing; the times spent at the Burrow... the times spent on his broom, high above the Quidditch pitch, the time spent talking to Remus, and Sirius... times when he felt completely accepted and loved...
Every single moment he'd spent in Ginny Weasley's arms.
A power the Dark Lord knows not...
And with all of that, all of that feeling surrounding him, every moment of it welling up out of him, he levelled the wand at Voldemort and spoke the one curse he'd sworn never to use...
"Avada kedavra!"
The look on Voldemort's face would have been priceless, if it weren't so frightening. He confidently watched as the green light shot towards him, his own wand raised... the confusion when the green light didn't stop... the rage when realization struck...
Harry panted, watching as smoke rose from the little pile of dust... and then, before collapsing, looked down at the wand in his hand.
Yew. Sixteen inches.
A/N – Well, this is the second to last... next chapter is the final one and a few things get explained... anyone care to tell me before then what, exactly, you think Daisy might be?
CQ
ThundersShadow: The fact that David Evans went to a Squib school, and Petunia mentioned that Grunnings was run by "an old school friend of my dads" means... well, it means that Grunnings was run by a Squib... little did Vernon Dursley realize...
Kazziedal: Well, I hope for Petunia and Dudley's sake, that that is what it means... Petunia definitely wants to stand on her own two feet I think... I suppose we'll have to see where sequels might take us, hmm?
Treck: Now, I KNOW that there is a reason you keep coming and reading... so you can't mind my cliffies THAT much! LOL!
YellowWitchGirl: The only concrit I DON'T take well is the stuff that ISN'T CONCRIT! You know, the stuff where someone spiels off for five paragraphs about how your story sucks because the H/G ship is NEVER going to sail, that any IDIOT can see that it's going to be H/Hr ALL THE WAY... you know, the ones that are generally annoying and anonymous? Yeah – those. I LIKE the type of review you just gave me, because I know what I'm trying to say, what I'm trying to get across to the reader, but if it isn't happening, I prefer to know that... so THANK YOU – and yes, your CONCRIT is most welcome – always.
RinnaMarie: NO! PRESSURE! AAARRRGGH... Okay,I hope now that I lived up to your preconception of what my writing of the final battle would be like. I hope. Please?
Apatel37: Thirtythree in a month? Pshaw... I could have done better if I'd been able to type...
Gerie: Well, thank you!
Ted M Hammett: Come a little way from the Ginny/Dean fiasco, haven't we? I'm glad you're enjoying it!
Padfootlives101: Patience!
Nightwing509: I think a key to Harry's success in defeating Voldemort is in his ability to forgive the past and move on.
Shotgunn: Oh, I think I'll keep my foot in the door. We'll see. Besides, my love, no matter if I wrote thirty five chapters or a hundred, you'd still be telling me it wasn't enough. That's a compliment in itself, you know – thank you for being one of the loyal ones from the beginning.
Lourdes: I do believe that we're going to see more of this in canon... Harry can't help but grow up.
IndiaInk: Am I that predictable? Hmm... better do something about that...
IrishCharms: Every day – except weekends and statutory holidays... and days when I'm feeling like crap... and the odd Monday (see previous reason...). Oh well... soon enough?
MeaghanPotter: No, no... none of that, now. I can't be blamed for your going crazy... I really can't. I have far too much responsibility as it is.
SaintEmo: Well, this one and the Epilogue... and that's it. Until I come out with something else. I'd planned on taking some time for my original stuff... we'll see, though. Maybe a few oneshots?
LilyNicolePotter: I'm so very, very happy to see someone THAT excited over this... thanks for the boost!
BabyBear089: Thanks. I think.
AliceLLongbottom: See, this is why I have amazing reviewers – to tell me honestly when I stick my foot in it. But Nymph's still holds.
Weselan: Grumble? GRUMBLE? Wow... I really have to work more on pleasing my "regulars", don't I?
Shellsboy24: Then it's a good thing you don't have to wait, isn't it?
BrittShrick: Yes, I was kind of hoping Petunia would hang around, as well.. it just didn't write itself that way.
Rdprice29: Yes... that's PRECISELY what I'm going for, actually. Gotta keep 'em coming back, you know!
CharminglyHolly: Breathe, my dear.
Kordolin: You're always so patient!
GiGiFanfic: I'm actually beginning to wonder if he isn't immortal, myself.
AlliBaby: Thank you, and you're right – it's quite hard to find good H/G stories... some have a great plot, but are badly written, and some are written beautifully, but have an over-used plot... I'm glad you're liking mine!
Weboflies: God? Hmmm... I like that... Yes, yes, I think I do!
Bobmin356: More?
Harry/Ginnymatchmaker: Patience, my dear... patience! This is the second to last chapter... the next chapter is the last. For this fic, anyhow.
Lizliterarius: "what kind of horrible evil cliffie-creation monster bit you last week?" LOL! This made me laugh... out loud... thanks, I needed that!
Starnat: You know it!
LarnaMandrea: There's my old blood-lusting reviewer. I'd wondered where she went. You know, I DID write the "Harry dies" story for you... are you never satisfied? LOL! I think it's part of Harry's personality to "not get it" sometimes. He had so little attention paid to him as a child, he never expects people to have insight into his thoughts and feelings.
CQ
