DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Harry stared into the darkening sky. The sun had already fell behind the trees, and the shadows were growing. It shouldn't have been a problem, but then, he hadn't expected to find himself in the middle of a forest, with nothing around him but trees taller than he could see.
Where was Voldemort? Where were the Death Eaters? When he'd grabbed the cup, he'd fully expected to find himself on the grass near the graveyard at Little Hangleton. Instead he was lost in some forest, without any clue of where he was supposed to go, if indeed there was anywhere for him to go.
Did Voldemort just want to trick me to leave the castle? He tried to imagine what purpose that might serve as he walked aimlessly up the gentle slope in the land. No, his mind told him, he was the one Voldemort was interested in. For whatever reason, this was where he was supposed to be.
It felt odd, wherever he was. There was something creepy and unsettling about this place, but it wasn't at all because of the trees or sky. Something told him that Voldemort was nearby. There was a certain tense feeling in the air, a feeling as if the trees around him were about to close in on him at any moment.
He kept walking, not really knowing where he was going, but wanting to keep moving. There was no path, and no sign of any break in the trees. The only really discernible feature in the dim light was a gentle sloping of the land to his right. Figuring that the view from higher up couldn't be any worse than what he had now, he turned and started heading up the slope. With any luck, he'd have some idea of where that might be once he reached the top of whatever hill or ridge he was slowly climbing.
He stopped to take a breath when he finally felt the land sloping downward away from him. He was at the top. He stopped to look around. Judging by the treetops around him, he was on the lip of some small valley in the middle of a set of hills. To either side of him, dark shadows continued rising, outlining two hills against the twilight. The dark valley below was completely featureless except for a small clearing.
As he squinted into the dusk, another shape appeared. Nestled in the center of the clearing were the tumbled remains of a pair of towers, one standing slightly taller than the other, both scarred and blacked by fire. It was impossible to be certain, but towers large enough to stand above the trees would probably be attached to a large building. At the very least, it would be someplace for him to try and get his bearings.
As he started climbing down the inner slope of the valley, the ground under his feet was lit up by a flash of green. Acting more out of instinct than actual concern, Harry crouched to the ground and pulled his wand from his pocket. The sight he saw when he looked up made it nearly impossible to swallow.
Hanging over the ruined towers was a luminous green skull with a snake crawling grotesquely from its mouth. For a moment, he felt as if he'd been struck in the chest. Voldemort was there, and even more importantly, Voldemort knew he was here.
Harry finally forced himself to swallow. This was what he'd come for: to end it. He had expected Voldemort to be waiting for him, and now he was. There really wasn't any point in waiting or running now. Harry climbed down the slope slowly, but without hesitation.
The towers disappeared as he reached the valley floor. It was only momentary, however, as it took only a few minutes before Harry had walked into the wide clearing where they stood. Now that he stood before them, it was obvious that his earlier guess was correct. The towers made up the bulk of the broken facade of what looked to be an ancient cathedral.
Most of the stonework that faced him was cracked and charred, but any major damage seemed to be patched with lighter stonework which was obviously newer, yet itself quite old. Stretching behind the stone front was a weather beaten wooden structure that managed to look both sturdy and completely run down at the same time. The whole building was littered with bits of branches and moss and the odd plant that had found some suitable surface to grow on.
Beyond its appearance, there was a certain loathsome feeling emanating from the cathedral that unnerved Harry. The whole forest had a oddly familiar dread that seemed to cling to it, but the cathedral was now a beacon of malice that overshadowed it. Not having any other plan, Harry walked for the main door.
The door was flanked by a pair of stone knights, one holding a set of scales, and the other holding a large axe. Over the door were the worn shapes of hundreds of figurines, long since eroded past any recognition. Harry was surprised to see the door still on its hinges, and wondered for a moment how he would open them.
To his surprise, they opened with a firm tug, wide enough at least for him to slip in. He walked into what seemed to be a small, empty chamber. There were heavy doors to either side of him, which probably led to the ruined towers. In front of him was another set of large wooden doors, though these were ominously clean and smooth. With another tug, the right hand door opened, and Harry slowly walked into the next room.
It was impossible to tell just how large the hall was. The walls were buried in darkness. The only light in the hall came from a large hole in the ceiling over which let in a shaft of sickly green light that illuminated a single table sitting in the center of the hall. Harry walked forward warily, curious about a large object set on the table. As he neared it, he noticed that it was a book, lying on its front cover. He reluctantly turned it over to look at its title.
A Study of Permanent Magical Maladies
Harry's hand jerked back as if he'd been scalded. As he backed away, the room filled with a high-pitched hissing laughter.
"Such a useful book," Voldemort laughed as he stepped from the shadows on Harry's left. "And quite rare. I was quite pleased that Pince was so willing to get it for me." He laughed again as he picked up the book and casually leafed through the pages. "Dumbledore thought he was the only one with spies and all that time he ignored her, a remnant from wiser days, the only one left who understood her ancestry and how important that is."
"But you're only a half-blood," Harry challenged.
Voldemort laughed and held his hand up to the sickly green glow, as if he were admiring it. "It is bizarre how fate works, isn't it?" he replied with sinister smile. "That a witch who could barely predict the coming of the full moon could so clearly see the result of events that had not even been put in motion? Events that would not have been put in motion, had she not seen them. Who could have imagined that two half-bloods would lead the fight between real wizards and those tainted with Muggle blood. And yet, here we are!" he called out to ceiling as he spread his arms wide and basked in the eerie glow of the Dark Mark.
"I admit, I had expected you to bring at least the Weasley boy with you. Bellatrix spent quite some time enchanting those trees to rip apart any companions you might bring. She was quite... disappointed —for a short time." Harry watched silently as another smile pulled at the corners of Voldemort's mouth and a tingle went through Harry's stomach. "You were supposed to be blood-soaked and filled with rage when you opened that door, but it really doesn't matter, does it Potter?"
"Your plans haven't been working very well lately," Harry taunted.
"Well enough," Voldemort snapped. "Your friends proved more resilient than I anticipated. At first, I was afraid it would be something of a problem, but I've discovered that it too has its uses."
Harry heard muffled steps coming toward him quickly, and he stepped to the side as a shape leapt from the shadows toward his feet. It hit the ground hard, letting out a pained shriek. Before he could figure out who it was, a second set of steps echoed through the hall.
"Welcome, Harry," Bellatrix sneered. "We've been waiting so eagerly for you to arrive."
Harry felt his stomach roll as he looked at her. She strode forward and roughly pulled the body from the floor. His heart froze as Bellatrix pulled back the hood on the heavy cloak to reveal a mane of flame red hair.
"I'm sorry," Ginny choked as Bellatrix jerked her head back with one hand. A long dagger flashed in the other, and in a second, the point was pressed into Ginny's chin. Harry recognized the blade immediately. He should have destroyed it long ago.
"She's sorry," Bellatrix mimicked as a drop of blood traveled down the knife. "At least she was considerate enough to bring us a gift. Rastaban and Rodolphus have always been fond of knives. A pity they will not arrive in time to thank you. I suppose a brief nod to your corpses will have to do."
Harry whirled on Voldemort, who was smiling. "Let her go," he demanded. I'm the one you wanted, and I'm here. Let her go."
"You've made such a disappointing pupil. Still clinging to love. Still acting on foolish emotion. Still believing that there is a point to all of it."
"Let—Her—Go!" Harry said as forcefully as he could. He heard a muffled shriek and turned to see Bellatrix slowly pressing the knife into Ginny's chin, letting another crimson trail of blood roll down the knife and over her hand.
"I'll let her go soon enough," Bellatrix sneered. "When the life has drained from her body and she's too weak to curse you for causing all of this."
He jerked his wand from his pocket and took aim at Bellatrix's forehead. "Impedi—"
His voice was cut off with a gurgle as any icy cold hand closed around his throat like a vise.
"Enough!" Voldemort shouted as he turned Harry back to look into his serpentine eyes. "Tell me how it ends, Potter. The Prophecy must have told you that we would face each other. So tell me how it ends. Is this what you imagined? Is this what the crone babbled about?"
Harry could barely breathe, but he forced himself to remain calm and keep staring at Voldemort. He wouldn't give in. He came to fight and fail, not to surrender. If he was lucky, he'd be able to get off a few spells, and maybe even incinerate the book that had been the root of so much of his pain. He just needed a distraction. With all the concentration he had, he focused on the book. It might be enough to simply drop it from the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it slide a fraction of an inch. It just might work.
Suddenly, he heard a scream slice through the air. His eyes strained to see what had happened, but the green light was dimming, and Ginny and Bellatrix weren't were they had been. There was the sound of bodies hitting stone, and the metallic ringing of steel as the knife slid across the floor.
"Ledus!"
A jet of silver sparks shot across Harry's vision. In the flash of light, he saw Ginny diving for the knife as Bellatrix kept her wand on her. The hex was poorly aimed, and Harry caught the glint of the blade as Ginny snatched the knife up off the stone floor.
The grip on his neck tightened until it was suffocating him. He could no longer see where Ginny was, but she had to be close. A second later, he heard the sickening sound of the knife plunging into flesh. In an instant, he was released and sprawling on the ground, gasping for air. Voldemort was still standing over him, with the knife Bill and Charlie gave Harry stuck deeply between his ribs. Ginny was still holding the hilt, with a shocked look on her face.
"Foolish girl!" Voldemort shouted. "You know you cannot kill me." With a single, swift movement, he grabbed her head and threw her to the ground next to Harry. They watched in amazement as Voldemort slowly drew the knife from his side and scowled at it before dropping it to the floor.
"I should have expected this," he said with obvious distaste. "She was a fine witch, Potter. Powerful, clever, independent, in some ways more wise than even the great Dumbledore, and pure of blood. But behold what has become of her! Love has weakened her. Her love of you and her Mudblood friends has bought her a fate she cannot escape now. She could have run. She could have hidden. She even could have saved herself. She would have been very useful to me, but she has cast it all aside for love, and for that, she will die."
"So kill us!" Ginny shouted. "Do it!"
"And risk using my wand against Potters, or invoking more of Dumbledore's magic? No, I do not think I will be attacking either of you."
"You're a coward!" Ginny shouted. Harry's throat still felt tight and raw. He wanted to shout something to let Ginny know that she wasn't alone, but all he could do was cough.
"We will see who is afraid, little Ginevra," Voldemort replied ominously. "I will kill you both, but not until the Dementors are finished with you. You'll both die in the fire, but you'll be empty shells long before then. Be thankful for this," he told Ginny. "Your resourcefulness has earned you a quicker death than anything I had imagined." He turned to Bellatrix. "Call them!"
Bellatrix pointed her wand at the large opening in the ceiling, and shot a fountain of green sparks into the night sky. There was a minute of tense silence before Harry felt the world growing colder. Any hope he had of saving Ginny fled from the sounds of his mother's screams.
As Harry pulled himself to his feet, the first of the Dementors arrived, floating slowly from the shadows. They seemed to appear from everywhere. "Dementors. They're quite obedient if you understand them," Voldemort explained. "This place was once the home of a powerful wizard. The wards still prevent Dementors from approaching—" he paused to smile, "—unless, of course, the master of the cathedral permits it. The original agreement had been for just a single Kiss, but plans often change, and they were not at all upset by the extra work."
Harry's legs shook as cold beads of sweat collected on his forehead. He screamed inside his own mind, but it was little more than a strangled gasp when it reached his mouth. He had to fight. Even if he couldn't win, he couldn't let it end like this.
Ginny was still lying on the ground. Her skin was sickly pale, and she looked to be writhing in pain. Harry tried to concentrate. If he could just summon a Patronus, he might at least allow them to die fighting. His arm quivered as he pointed it at one of the closest Dementors.
"Expecto—"
Suddenly, his wand was gone. Voldemort had simply grabbed it and tossed it to the ground. Before Harry could make any move for it, he felt a hand clutching the back of his neck and holding him where he was.
"No more escapes, Potter," Voldemort hissed. "No more running, no mother to protect you, and no old wizards to rescue you." The Dementors were quite close now. He could hear their slow, rattling breathing all around him. "The girl first. Before they take his soul, I want him to understand the results of all his mistakes."
Bellatrix stepped forward to yank Ginny from the floor. She took Ginny's wand and tossed it on the floor near Harry's, before holding Ginny by the neck just like Voldemort was doing with him.
Harry struggled against Voldemort's icy grip. His hand was much stronger than Harry could have imagined. As the first Dementor reached out to grab Ginny's shoulder, he stopped struggling. This was it. Ginny's eyes had already rolled back into their sockets, and she stood limp in Bellatrix's grasp.
"I love you," he choked out, hoping that Ginny might still hear him. In his mind, he started remembering the last year and how much had changed between them. He remembered how odd he'd felt when he'd seen her on his birthday, and the butterflies in his stomach when they'd kissed on Halloween. At least he had that time with her. At least he hadn't been forced to do it alone.
Something had changed. Harry's eyes snapped open to see a number of Dementors staring at him, not Ginny. Ginny's eyes were open again, and she was struggling against Bellatrix. His view of their struggle was eclipsed a moment later as the Dementors advanced on him quickly.
With one last smile, he understood what had happened. The moment of happiness he felt, the short burst of love he'd felt for Ginny had called to the Dementors. It was too strong for them to ignore. They would take him first. It was small consolation, but it was something. Even at the end, Harry was fighting and ruining Voldemort's plans.
He heard screaming. There was always screaming, only this time he knew it wasn't his mother. It was Ginny. Harry's world darkened as the Dementors surrounded him. His arms groped the darkness instinctively, searching for anything that might protect him. His left arm struck something and Harry forced his eyes open. As the Dementors leaned in, Harry could see Voldemort's crimson eyes laughing at him.
With the last bit of his strength, Harry reached out wrap his hands around Voldemort's throat. It was a pointless attempt, but it was all he had left. He couldn't see anymore. His scar felt as if it were splitting his whole skull open, and the scar on his arm from the graveyard two years ago was blazing hot. He felt a slight lurch as a Dementor's clammy hand clutched his shoulder, then another something hit him. It was Ginny. He could still hear her begging for his life. It didn't matter anymore. This was how it was supposed to end.
Harry felt all happiness and emotion bleeding out of him. It wouldn't be much longer. They would move on to Ginny next. At least he wouldn't have to watch, and Voldemort would have to know that Harry had thwarted him one last time.
He felt weak and numb. The last remnants of anything pleasant left him, leaving only pain and an intense anger. Voldemort was laughing at him. It wasn't enough for him to win. Harry could hear him, gloating in his head.
"This is the only way it was ever going to end, Potter. You knew that the moment you ran in the graveyard. We won't be seeing each other again."
His head was filled with screams as the world spun away from him. Darkness consumed him and he fell into a terrifying nothingness.
Author's Notes:
Well, you got what you asked for: Harry and Ginny, together and fighting Voldemort. Was it everything you hoped it would be? Was it everything you came to expect?
Of course, there is still one last chapter, but everyone should go and copy down my email address now, so it'll be easier to send off your questions and complaints (or praise, if you're like that) once you finish the last chapter on Friday.