DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter (and associated characters, likenesses, concepts, etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc. AOL/Time Warner, Inc., among others. I make no claim, written or implied, upon Harry Potter. No money is being made and no infringement or disrespect to the creators / copyright holders is intended.
Warning: This story will contain slash (i.e. male/male relationships) and mpreg, although neither will be graphic.
A/N: This story was inspired by the many wonderful stories that I have read and enjoyed here at fan fiction and any similarities to existing stories is not intended. This story is AU, meaning that the events that occurred in the OOTP have not been taken into account and am I in no means suggesting the material described in this story should be considered as a direct interpretation of cannon. Also, I am American so I apologize in advance for any Americanisms.
Chapter 30: A Phoenix's Sacrifice
Draco raced towards the crowd of wizards and witches who were standing completely still, as if mesmerized by something. Knowing that only one thing could hold the attention of so many enemies standing side by side, without them trying to incapacitate each other, he ran faster than he had ever run before. Nearing the edge of the battle, Draco quickly resumed his human form and pushed the immobile bodies out of his way as he made his way towards the center.
He hadn't even made his way to the front of the mass when he heard Harry scream. It wasn't a cry of pain, but one of pure unadulterated rage. Before the castle walls had time to rebound Harry's war cry back to the battlefield, Draco heard his lover start to hiss in Parseltongue.
Never before had Draco been so envious of the ability that his mate and sons shared. He would have given all the gold in Gringotts to be able to understand what exactly Harry was hissing. Judging from his tone only, Draco assumed it was some type of curse, but he couldn't tell for sure. Frustrated beyond belief, Draco continued to shove people out of his way in his quest to reach Harry's side.
The pain that tore through his chest at the thought of Voldemort murdering one of his precious children while raising the other to be evil was indescribable. Not even once in all his planning and reviewing the possible outcomes related to this particular inevitable moment had Harry even considered the possibility of separating the twins, and certainly never permanently, but yet here was this piece of filth suggesting just that. Harry felt the sour taste of bile rise in his throat as he thought about Riddle's intention of separating them by death. It was unthinkable; it wasn't going to happen.
This nightmare caused a sharp pain spread deep in his soul. Using that pain to focus on, Harry remembered exactly what he was going to do here tonight. The spell that he had found was risky and had never been successfully performed, but if the notes that Salazar had left in the library in the Founder's Hall were to be believed, this curse could temporarily strip even the most powerful of wizards of their magical ability. The problem was that this spell took a great deal of magic from the caster as well, and if it worked at all, the spell was believed to only last for about ten minutes.
But it was ten minutes that Harry desperately needed. Focusing all his attention inward, Harry tapped into his magical essence. Feeling the overwhelming love and support of his family, friends, and even Hogwarts itself flood through his system, Harry tossed his head back and started to chant.
As fun as it was to wind Harry up, Voldemort knew that he needed to strike now before the young man had time to compose himself. Raising his wand, he gave one final look at the man who was his own flesh and blood before opening his mouth to shout the curse that should have ended this person's existence so very many years ago. Before he had a chance to utter the first word Voldemort watched in fascination as an almost serene expression came over Harry's face. He didn't even have a chance to wonder what his descendent was up to as green eyes met his own and his Grandson started to chant in parseltongue.
"God of the South, Keeper of Fire and Light, take back what is rightfully yours. Goddess of the North, Commander of the Wind and Air, take back what is rightfully yours. God of the West, Protector of Earth, take back what is rightfully yours. Goddess of the East, Guardian of the Seas and Water, take back what is rightfully yours. He is unworthy of your generous gifts, release them now."
Never having heard such a chant before, Voldemort listened as the other man's serpentine words tickled his eardrums. When Harry's chant ended and nothing happened, Voldemort couldn't help but chuckle. "Was that the best you could do, Harry? Surely after all this time, you could have come up with something better than that?"
"I'm feeling slighted. I would have thought that you would have spent more time trying to come up with some pathetic and equally unsuccessful attempt to defeat me." Voldemort sneered at his nemesis. "What a great disappointment you turned out to be."
Harry was unfazed by Riddle's comments. Concentrating harder he raised both his palms up into the air and concentrated on solely summoning the spirit guardians. Turning to face south, he first thought about fire, how he imagined it would feel burning in his hand. "God of the South, Keeper of Fire and Light, take back what is rightfully yours." Feeling a warmth settle over him, Harry didn't even notice the intermittent flashes of lightning that suddenly lit the night sky as he continued on, turning to face in the opposite direction. He thought about wind, the strong destructive sort of wind that often accompanied the spring and summer storms. "Goddess of the North, Commander of Wind and Air, take back what is rightfully yours."
The strong breeze that suddenly appeared gave Harry the encouragement to continue. This time concentrating on earth, the feel of the solid ground under his feet, and the scent of freshly tilled soil, Harry faced west and chanted louder than before so that he could be heard over the now howling wind, "God of the West, Protector of Earth, take back what is rightfully yours."
Shrieks of fear could be heard from the many observes as the ground started to tremble, unleashing its own terrible energy. Not wanting to lose any of his momentum, Harry practically shouted that last remaining part of the chant, as he turned to face east. Focusing all his remaining strength on the last spirit Goddess, he screamed, "Goddess of the East, Guardian of the Seas and Water, take back what is rightfully yours."
The battlefield was almost obscured from view in a wave of heavy wet snow. The four elements that comprised the elemental basis that modern magic had been derived from were all present and ready to reclaim their gift from the one who had been deemed unworthy.
Not taking a moment to pause, least he loose his concentration, Harry shouted over the combined forces of nature, "He is unworthy of your generous gifts, release them now."
Before the wind had a chance to catch Harry's last word, a bright silver ball of light started to form between Harry's still outstretched palms. The beam grew brighter and larger as Harry concentrated on feeding his own energy into the mass. Soon, the light had become so bright that very few could even stand to look directly at it anymore and Harry knew that if he didn't release it soon, he would lose control.
Looking over to where Voldemort stood, encased in a wind tunnel, Harry connected once more with the hideous creature that had participated in the procreation of, and then later caused the destruction of, his mother. Harry felt a tremendous surge of power from the silver ball that he held suspended between his outstretched palms. Feeling the drain on his magical reserves and knowing that he wouldn't be able to hold onto this energy for long, he realized that he would have to act soon before the ball drained his last bit of magic.
"You have been found unworthy," he cautioned, and with those final words, Harry released the silver ball.
Voldemort watched the happenings in complete disbelief. He had never heard of a spell that could summon the founding spirits of magic, let alone, command them to act on the caster's behalf. That spell would have to be researched once this battle was said and done; the thought that he was actually going to lose never once entering his mind.
As Harry started the chant a second time, Voldemort took the opportunity to once more raise his wand; it was time to put an end to Potter's theatrics once and for all. Unfortunately for him, that was when he made a rather unsettling discovery. He couldn't move. His arms failed to respond to his will. Refusing to panic, the Dark Lord tried to turn away from Harry, but as before when he tried to raise his arms, his legs refused to move as well. The chant had, in fact, stilled everything in the vicinity, there wasn't a single sound or movement, at least not that Voldemort could ascertain as his vision and hearing was soon impaired by the roaring wind and blinding snow. That is, everything had stilled with the exception of one thing. Only one thing appeared to be unaffected by the total chaos that surrounded them all. That one thing was none other than Harry Potter.
The sphere, that largely resembled a silver quaffle by this point, was glowing brightly nestled between Harry's outstretched palms. Even the blinding snow wasn't enough to hamper the visibility of the unearthly power that the orb was projecting. Not sure exactly what Harry was intending to do with this new toy; Voldemort was certain that he didn't want to be in the path of that thing when Potter finally decided to release it. For the first time tonight, Voldemort felt the cold fingers of fear deep in his gut. Potter was even more powerful then he had led himself to believe, if this demonstration was anything to judge by. No longer assured of his quick victory, the Dark Lord realized that he needed to rethink his intentions towards this boy – no, man. The basic fact that he might not live to see another day was just starting to give him some pause.
Unable to do anything but breathe, Voldemort watched in horrified silence as Harry released the silver ball of concentrated magical energy towards him.
Unable to so much as bat an eyelash, the Dark Lord could do nothing to prepare himself as the dazzling globe hit him. At first, Voldemort felt nothing but the tingle of magic as the ball was absorbed into his chest. The feeling of powerful magic washing over him took his breath away but wasn't anything like what he had feared it would be. Then the pain hit.
Pain so strong that it managed to do something nothing else had managed in over four decades, it brought the Dark Lord to his knees. Ragged screams pierced the night air, managing to be heard even over the howl of the whipping wind and the cracks of thunder, as Voldemort's body shook from the effects of the curse that Harry had cast upon him.
When the pain had finally started to dissipate, Voldemort managed to raise himself up off the frozen ground. Not as weak as he appeared to be, the Dark Lord raised his wand a final time.
The pain that he had just endured had overridden what little sense he still managed to possess. Thinking only of wanting to share some of the terrible pain that he had just experienced, he cast the first spell that came to his rattled mind, "Crucio!"
Nothing happened.
Harry hadn't even moved when he heard the spell being cast; he had made no move what-so-ever to try to block it, almost like he had expected the spell to fail. But that was impossible, wasn't it? Voldemort's thoughts spun faster than children on the local merry-go-around; his magic had never failed him before, not even once. Furious beyond belief, Voldemort let his righteous anger fill him before shouting the spell that would hopefully end all of this nonsense once and for all. "Avada Kedavra!"
When this spell also failed, Voldemort started to fire off random spells in desperation, hopeful that one of these spells would respond to him. Finally after a few tense moments, when his wand failed to so much as give a slight tremor, Voldemort threw his wand down in disgust.
Standing for the first time in fear before the boy who would surely be his undoing, Voldemort couldn't help but ask, "What have you done? How did you bind my magic so that I can not even feel it anymore? I demand that you release that spell at once."
Harry watched in gleeful disbelief when Voldemort's spells failed. The spell had worked, he had done it. But now, he didn't have much time. The spirit guardians wouldn't be able to contain the vileness that was the Dark Lord for very long. Now all Harry had to do was make sure that the magic had no where to return to once it was free again. And to do that, he had to destroy Voldemort's body and soul. Destroying a body wasn't that difficult, but utterly eradicating a soul was a different matter altogether. There was only one way that Harry was comfortable had a chance of success when dealing with a soul so utterly evil. Even though he knew that it was his best chance, he wasn't even sure that it would work, as it too had never even been attempted before.
Ignoring Voldemort's ludicrous questions, Harry took one last look around before setting the second half of his plan in motion. As he did, his gaze scanned over the many individuals gathered around the perimeter of the circle where he and Voldemort faced off, some he could recognize; many he could not. Harry was glad to see that not many of the faces wore masks, taking that as a sign that the Light had managed to gain the upside in the fight against the Dark Lord's followers.
Almost done with his quick perusal of the witnesses to this final confrontation, his eyes landed on the one that he had been searching for all his life. Draco. Draco was here; he had made it. Deep in his soul, Harry knew that when the final moments came that Draco would be by his side, regardless of any promise he had extracted from the unwilling blond. Just knowing that his soul mate was there for him gave Harry the strength to raise his weary eyes to meet those of his lover for what may be the last time.
Draco had almost reached the center of the mob when Harry raised his voice again and started the chant over again; this time louder and sounding more determined than ever. Sensing that the end was near, the crowd all closed in on the dueling pair who remained unquestionably at the heart of this conflict.
Draco grunted as he was pushed from behind and fell forward into the person in front of him. This wasn't getting him where he needed to be. Before he had a chance to facilitate a plan that would bring him to Harry's side, the sky opened up in a vicious display of lightning. Knowing that he was running out of time, Draco pushed forward with renewed vigor, desperate to reach Harry. He had only managed to stumble over a couple of more people when the gale-force winds started to push back against the crowd, holding them all in place away from the spectacle that had to be taking place deep within the interior of the horde of wizards and witches.
It took most of Draco's focus and might to remain standing against the powerful gales. Many of the people standing around him weren't as lucky as they were either pushed back or were completely blown away. Draco ducked as someone who had been standing in front of him took flight and narrowly missed hitting the blond. Thinking that the wind was a blessing in disguise as it had thinned the host of people between him and Harry considerably, Draco inched his way forward.
Draco had only taken a few more steps when the ground beneath his feet started to shake. People around him, no matter which side they were fighting for, shouted out in fear and started to push back away from what ever was happening between Harry and Voldemort.
'Oh shit,' Draco thought, as he knew that the energy to manipulate the environment this drastically had to be immense. At this point, Draco didn't know which one of the two contenders were even responsible for these not-so-natural displays, but he hoped with all his heart that it was Harry in command of these incredible forces. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw a flash of white, barely discernable over the sheets of blinding snow that had started to pelt the bystanders.
Draco looked again, and sure enough, Dumbledore was just a ways off to his left, also moving slowly toward the pinnacle of the whirlwind of magic. Just behind the Headmaster, Draco could make out more shapes, following in Dumbledore's path. Fairly certain that Severus, Sirius, and Remus were also on their way to the inner circle, Draco focused once more on the task at hand.
Thankfully, the vast majority of the people had edged back away in fear at the elements that had been unleashed on them, making the last leg of Draco's crusade the easiest. In a few moments, Draco found himself on the inner-most rim of the crowd, facing his own worst nightmare. The sight of Voldemort with his wand raised and pointed directly at Harry's heart was an image that Draco could have lived his whole life without seeing.
Seeing that Harry wasn't taking any sort of defensive stance, Draco lunged forward, trying to place himself between the two enemies, willing to do whatever it took to protect his lover. However, Draco's forward progress was stymied. He couldn't move; all he could do was stand there and wait with bated breath with all those gathered there to see what the inevitable outcome of this proclaimed and long-awaited event would be.
It took Draco a while to realize what was going on. Voldemort was casting spells, terrible spells, but nothing was happening. It was as if the Dark Lord had suddenly lost all ability to perform magic. It was almost like he was a squib or worse yet, a Muggle. Draco looked in surprise from where he had been watching Voldemort flounder to where Harry was standing, solid and confident amongst the turmoil. Never had Draco seen a more beautiful sight. This was it; wasn't it? This was the end. Harry had won. Voldemort no longer had any magic, at least not that he could tell. So if this was the end, why couldn't he move? Something still wasn't right; somehow Draco felt with a certainty that hadn't been there before that while the Light would be victorious that day, they weren't out of the woods. Deep down, Draco knew that the sacrifices weren't over yet and that there was a real possibility that they all wouldn't get out of this unscathed.
Warmth filled him as he watched Harry scan the observers, clearly looking for him. Knowing that he had to stand strong in light of what ever outcome the fates had decided, Draco raised his head high and meet Harry's piercing emerald eyes with his own loving gray ones. For a moment, Draco forgot where they were, forgot that they were standing on the edge. The edge of what, Draco wasn't sure; he only knew that after the next few moments, nothing would ever be the same again. Was it an ending or a brand new beginning? Draco wasn't willing to speculate just yet, both wanting and dreading what was to come next.
Draco didn't have long to ponder about the near future, unable to tear his eyes away he watched Harry give him a sad smile before mouthing the words 'Don't be afraid,' and then finally blowing him a kiss. Fighting back the tears that stung his eyes, Draco nodded his understanding and returned a blown kiss of his own back to the only man he would ever love. Unwavering in his belief that that would not be their last kiss, Draco pushed away his fears, determined to be strong, not only for Harry, but also for the twins.
The bystanders couldn't hear the soft pop over nature's continuing splendor of sights and sounds, but within a split second before their disbelieving eyes the image of Harry Potter was replaced with that of a majestic bird. Even the wind didn't mask the gasp that echoed off to Draco's left. Draco raised an eyebrow in appreciation of McGonagall's astonishment; glad that she had seen Harry's accomplishment. To be honest, he hadn't expected the old witch to last this long.
The phoenix was oblivious to the dumbfounded and dazed stares around him as he opened his beak and trilled the familiar phoenix song. Incredibly, the wind, blinding snow, trembling earth and lightning strikes stilled seemingly in response to the phoenix's command.
A feeling of terrible dread settled deep in Draco's stomach as he watched the phoenix take flight, its brilliant plumage flashing a bright scarlet against the stark white backdrop.
All of Harry's research had told him the same thing over and over again, only pure goodness and love could destroy pure evil. Harry knew that he had his faults, sure everyone did; they were only human after all. That thought had led him to rethink his final confrontation with Voldemort. Maybe if Harry didn't try to destroy his soul as a human, but as something so pure that no one had the ability to become before; maybe then he would have a chance to finally put an end to the thing revered by some and feared by all.
Harry had many long discussions with Fawkes about how a phoenix might actually go about destroying Voldemort. The conversations were enlightening, but largely not very helpful. As phoenixes by their very nature were healers, they couldn't use their powerful gifts to destroy, even one so evil such as the Dark Lord.
Wading through all the facts, lead Harry to only one possibility that had a chance of freeing the world of this peril. In an obscure footnote in a tomb found in the Founder's library, Harry found a reference about a time when a wizard who wasn't familiar with phoenixes tried to stop a phoenix from burning. This misguided wizard touched the phoenix after the phoenix had already triggered his burning cycle and, unfortunately, was incinerated instantly. What made this footnote so intriguing was that nothing remained of the foolish wizard, not even his soul.
Fawkes had cautioned him on what all could possibly go wrong. What Harry was planning to do was extremely dangerous and there was a good chance that he could also lose his own soul during the burning as well. It's not like there were any phoenix animagi before him that he could ask for advice; this had most certainly never been attempted before. Steeling his resolve, Harry set about the task before him.
With a last thought about the shock that he was going to cause by disproving yet another one of the wizarding world's magical theories, Harry evolved into his phoenix animagus form.
With a trill that calmed not only himself but his surroundings, he took flight. Somewhere off in the distance he heard the answering cry from his fellow phoenix. While Fawkes could only be involved in the battle in a healing capacity, his support made Harry feel lighter, better. The gorgeous red and gold bird flew high into the night sky before turning once more towards land.
Sensing his foe, Harry the phoenix pulled out of his tight downward spiral. Timing was everything. Harry knew that he had to trigger the burning cycle before he touched Voldemort, if not his phoenix spirit would not allow him to endanger another living creature, no matter how despicable. Not sure how long he would have from the time that the burning cycle was triggered to when the actual burning took place was the main problem.
Voldemort would soon regain his ability to do magic, not that it would change Harry's intentions, but it certainly could make things a whole lot harder. Deciding that there was never going to be a better moment, Harry reached deep down in his soul trying to locate that particular spot that Fawkes had told him would trigger a burn.
Moments before he was upon is prey, Harry found the one glorious section of his soul that was so pure that it was almost painful to experience it for too long. The phoenix song burst from his chest louder than ever before as the burning cycle was triggered.
Sweeping down on his powerful wings, Harry clutched a stunned Voldemort tightly in his taloned feet and swooped up into the night sky. Even with a phoenix's speed, Harry wasn't able to get very far when the burning overtook him. With his last conscious thought, Harry wrapped both his large wings around Voldemort's skeletal frame, encasing the Dark Lord within the phoenix's embrace. An outside observer would later remark that had they not known better, it would appear like the phoenix had been trying to protect the Dark Lord.
It is often whispered that the fierce cry of the phoenix as it burst into hot flames was heard lingering in the halls of Hogwarts long after the ashes had blown away.
To be continued.