A/N: Brace yourselves, ladies and germs, it's BATTLE time! Mum and I have been overwhelmed by the reactions to the past few chapters. We got several more cranked out this weekend, and are very close to being done with this tale. I'm going to miss these update weekends and hearing feedback from all of you. BUT…it's not quite over, so read on and enjoy!

Chapter Forty-Eight: Amare Et Bellum

"Potter." Harry broke away from Sirius and turned to face Snape. The Potions Master reached inside his robe and pulled out an amulet, which he slipped around Harry's neck. "It ought to provide at least some protection."

"Thanks," Harry said, keeping a wary eye on the advancing Death Eater lines. He couldn't see Voldemort yet, but he was definitely there…somewhere. Snape was still looking at him, with a peculiar expression on his face, when they both noticed Sirius, Hermione, and the Weasleys standing in a circle around them, holding hands. "What're you…"

The group came closer to him, and Ron patted his arm. "Just trying to add to it a bit." They heard shouts from the front of the group, and the first curse lights began to flash. "Looks like this is it, mate," he said quietly. Harry nodded. "Don't get killed, okay?"

"You too," Harry replied, trying and failing to muster a smile. The noise from the front lines was growing, along with the fluttery feeling in his chest. I can do this…I can…we can…just be calm…

"You lot better get into position," said Bill, dropping a quick kiss onto Ginny's forehead. "It's heating up fast."

"Right," Ron said a little breathlessly, and turned around. "D.A.! FORM UP! C'mon, mate, we're all on 'you' duty."

That made smiling a little easier as the D.A. gathered into tight groups around Harry, all eyes darting warily toward the growing chaos some yards in front of them. "Just remember," Harry cautioned them. "If Voldemort comes at me, get out of the way FAST."

"Aye-aye!" said Zabini. "But anybody else, we get to hex their lights out. Remember your drills, people! Back each other!"

Behind them, Harry could hear the chanting of several groups of Aurors and Ministry wizards casting various temporary wards over the Order lines to keep Death Eaters from apparating in or using some of the nastier long-distance spells against them. It was all going to be face-to-face fighting. Collin Creevy was standing next to Fred Weasley, watching the front lines like a hawk and muttering to the others of what he saw.

"Smythe-Wellington's team is holding its own…Williamson's down, but Snetterton's squad's moved in…blimey, Triston's squad's overrun; they're buckling bad on the west end…we're going to have them coming at us from there pretty soon, Harry."

"I see it," Harry said. "Fred, you all right?"

Fred nodded, not taking his eyes off the Death Eaters. Mrs. Weasley had protested letting him take part in the battle, but the remaining Weasley twin had stubbornly refused any suggestions against it. Harry couldn't blame him, but he feared Fred's desire for revenge of his twin's loss would make him too reckless.

There was a dazzling flash near the weakest point of the Order lines that brought them all up sharp, causing yelps of alarm from the Healer squads in back. "There he is," muttered someone.

Voldemort too was hanging back from the front lines of his army, but he was causing quite enough damage even from that distance; he'd just taken out about half a dozen Aurors. Moody was trying to lead over reinforcements, but other Death Eaters were keeping them engaged.

"I think it's time for us to get into it," Harry murmured.

"Think you're right," said Ron. "If we don't want them getting close to the Healers. We could at least shake things up." He nodded to the D.A. ranks, which were composed of almost fifty students. "Ready, then?"

"Yeah," Harry said, feeling a tightness in his chest, although the shaky feeling had gone.

"Your army, mate. Give the word."

Zabini nodded to the buckling lines. "What say we hit them on the east side? Give Moody and the others a chance to send reinforcements to the trouble spot?"

"Good point. The experienced people should be down there," Harry said. He took a deep breath. "Here we go. Let's hit them fast, between Moody's group and Snetterton's group."

"Right-o," said Blaise, and stepped ahead of them. "D.A. SQUADS, TO ME! KEEP IN FORMATION!"

And Harry charged forward with the rest of them.

It didn't take them long to get into the fray. Even before they reached the front, they let loose longer-range curses to sail over the Aurors' heads, hoping to take a few Death Eaters by surprise. It must have worked, because Moody sent several squads breaking away and sprinting like mad to reinforce the area to the west side of the field where the Order was sustaining the most casualties.

"Green Team, move up!" Ron bellowed. "Keep Harry covered!"

Green light flashed nearby, and many of them ducked. "Don't pack too close; they're using Killing Curses!" Hermione warned. Several teams of Healers were moving carefully behind them, trying to reach the wounded.

The hexes increased as they got closer to the front, streaks of colored light piercing the air around them, and forced them to spread out a little more. "Yellow Team, hover those wounded to the back!" Blaise yelled, and Seamus Finnegan's group split away to obey. Neville and Dean's team moved forward to fill in the space.

Snape and Sirius were just ahead of them as they reached the very front of the fighting. Death Eaters swarmed toward them, and the two men were soon back-to-back, moving in a slow circle and sending hexes flying in every direction, so that hardly anything in a black robe got anywhere near them.

"BLUE TEAM, INCOMING!" Blaise roared. "SHIELDS!"

As jinxes impacted against an array of hastily-conjured Shields on Harry's left, he could see through the distorted air a group of black robes moving toward them fast. As the Shields went back down, he took aim along with the others and shouted, "PERCUTIO!"

Multiple blasting hexes along with his sent the Death Eaters straight to the ground, and Blaise's team went forward to finish them off with various layered Binding Spells that none of Voldemort's forces would be able to cancel in the heat of the fighting. "WATCH OUT!" someone shouted, and Harry and the others ducked and dodged as retaliatory hexes streaked around them.

"ACK!"

"Dennis!" Collin Creevy yelled, and other cries of pain rang out.

Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw several D.A. members on the ground. "Ginny, hover them to the back!"

"Yessir! Orange Team, with me!"

"WEASLEY, I need help here!" Blaise shouted, backing his group up as another band of Death Eaters came after them. Fred and Lee Jordan and several former Hogwarts students ran to back him up. "Oh…"

"Expecting another Weasley?" Lee asked, aiming a Bone-Breaking Hex into the black robes.

"Any redhead'll do…Perfringo"

"HARRY!" Harry peered through the sea of bodies to see Snape, pointing frantically.

"What's he on—Harry, your boy's on his way," somebody said in a shaky voice.

Harry finally spotted the larger figure among the Death Eaters, moving across the field in their direction. "Ron, better start pulling out!"

"What? Oy. Right. Hang on; he's not here yet. Green Team, to me! Pressum Give us a Shield on the right flank! Neville, watch your back!"

"Watch your left, Blaise, someone's using Incendio" Harry threw a Partner Shield toward Zabini; it wasn't very strong at that distance, but it kept the other boy from being cooked.

"Thanks—Contego Blues, keep your—uh-oh. Harry?" Harry looked again and saw Voldemort, moving leisurely along the Order front lines and causing a great deal of damage as he made his way toward them.

"I think I better go meet him before he takes Moody's whole squad out."

"Not alone, you're not!" Sirius shouted back at him.

"Death Eaters can't kill Harry!" someone said.

"No, but they could hurt you and let Voldemort finish you off," said Ron. "But you're right; the git needs distracting."

"Together, then!" Snape told them.

"Yessir! Teams, form up around Potter! We're moving west!" Harry found himself back in the center of a crowd of students as he started running.

"Just worry about the Death Eaters, and draw off when we get there," he told Ron. "Tectum!"

"Be careful, mate. Duck! Plagas"

"You too—PROFESSOR! PULL THEM BACK!" Harry shouted at Smythe-Wellington. He got a wave in response, then sparks went up, and the Order forces broke and ran, pulling back toward Harry and the D.A.

"STUDENTS, FALL IN!" Moody bellowed at them, as the Order members joined them. "We'll break off, and it's your show, Potter. WATCH OUT!"

Everyone ducked as several Death Eaters and Voldemort threw a volley of Killing Curses into the Order lines. Most were dodged, but a few weren't, and Harry was shaken when a red-robed figure dropped to the ground in front of him.

"Steadmann, damn!" Snape hissed. "Focus, Harry," he said, pulling Harry around the body as they kept going. Harry took a deep breath and nodded, looking for Voldemort. "Students, to the back! We've got heavy curses coming in…WATCH YOUR RIGHT! Dammit, Black, we're too tight in here!"

"D.A., WITH MOODY!" Sirius roared. "AURORS, LOOSEN UP!"

A Burning Hex sizzled past Harry's cheek, making him hiss as he flinched away. They weren't far from Voldemort; he could see the red eyes above the mass of black robes. "Get the people in front out of the way. He'll just take them out," he said to Snape.

"SQUAD ONE, BREAK LEFT, SQUAD TWO, BREAK RIGHT! Take flanking positions! Weasley, get to the back with the others!"

"I stay with Harry!"

"Not against Voldemort!" Harry snapped at Ron.

"We're not TO Voldemort yet! Contego" Ron stubbornly stayed with the Order members protecting Harry as they advanced closer to Voldemort and his fighters.

"We're almost in curse range of him," Sirius said firmly, catching Ron by the arm. "Come on, get back there."

"Harry!" Ron called urgently, and Harry looked back at his friend's anxious face.

"I'll be okay! Go! I've got to do this myself, Ron!"

Ron let himself be drawn back by Mr. McGonagall, and rejoined several Hogwarts teachers fighting with the D.A. Harry returned his attention to the towering red-eyed figure in front of him. His scar was burning hot on his forehead, but he was concentrating so hard that he barely noticed. Voldemort had paused from his offensive to watch Harry's approach, but then resumed throwing hexes at random into the crowd of Harry's protectors. Some missed as Order members ducked and dodged frantically, but from those that struck targets, the person who fell did not rise again.

"It's getting awfully hot up here!" Snetterton warned.

"Keep Potter flanked!" Snape snapped. "Won't do us any good against the Dark Lord if Death Eaters get to him first!"

"He's right; you better fall back," Harry said distractedly. "Just keep them from hitting me and let me worry about Voldemort."

"Hang on; Harry, get down. Boys, let's give them a hard volley, hit anything in black. Ready?" Sirius took aim. "NOW!"

"Percutio!" "Ferito!" "Pressum!" "Plagas!" "Quassio!" "Avada Kedavra!" "Ictus!"

What seemed like a wall of colored light erupted from the wands of the Order members around Harry, blazing into the lines of Voldemort's forces. Harry blinked, dazzled, as he got to his feet, and when the air cleared, Voldemort was surrounded by less of his supporters.

"All right, people, fall back—Black, that means you too! Come on!" Snape pulled Sirius away, and they resumed hexing Death Eaters scattered around the field, leaving the Dark Lord to Harry.

Voldemort waved his remaining supporters aside. "Well, Harry. You have certainly come into your own."

Harry wasn't in the mood to chat. He just wanted this to be over with. He took aim and saw the dark wizard do likewise. But when he cast his first hex—Quassio—instead of shielding or attacking with one of his own, Voldemort dodged.

Then the Dark Lord cursed one of the Healers.

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed, outraged.

Voldemort's thin lips curled nastily. "Why are you shocked, Harry? I have no wish to deprive myself of the pleasure of slaughtering my enemies, even as I am dealing with a little nuisance such as you."

"Bloody duel already! AVADA KEDAVRA!" Harry roared, trying to keep Voldemort's attention on him. But the dark wizard dodged it again and slipped further along the fighting, hexing Order members at random, and daring a jinx at Harry only when Harry didn't have a clear shot back at him. "Watch out!" Harry yelled frantically at Snape.

The Potions Master growled something very dirty and bellowed, "ORDER, FALL BACK!" He threw up a Shield in Harry's direction and said, "Bloody bastard doesn't play fair, Potter, remember that."

"I'm beginning to see that—careful!" Harry dodged past Snape to Shield him against a hex from one of the Death Eaters. "Pettigrew said—duck!—he's afraid of—Ferito—wands meeting again!"

"Then he'll bide his time until he's certain you cannot curse him," Snape said, dodging past Harry to back one of the Order squads. "Do your best to keep him engaged, and let the rest of us deal with—WATCH IT!"

"AH!" Harry felt all the wind knocked out of him as a curse hit him directly in the back.

"Harry!" Snape grabbed him as he staggered, people shouted in alarm, and Harry gasped for breath as several Order members surrounded him and attempted to pull him back from the front lines. "Damn it—cover us…shit…" Snape growled. "He's coming—HOLD HIM OFF AS LONG AS YOU CAN—Harry, stay with me!"

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Harry rasped. "Just gotta—get my—breath—"

"Black, get back there before you end up dead!" Snape shouted. "I've got him—GO!"

"Sirius?"

"He's fine; just took a bad hit in the leg," said someone, splashing water on Harry's face. "Hang on, lad."

Harry wound up on his knees in the grass, bent over with Snape and a few of the others beside him, trying to get his wind back. "Didn't see the bloody…"

"Let us deal with them; cover him this time, damn it!" Snape snapped at the others.

"You-Know-Who knows he's down—he's coming right at us," someone hissed.

"Maybe…" Harry looked cautiously at Snape. "Maybe if he thinks I'm more hurt than I am, he'll try to hex me…"

"Right. Snetterton, Baker, get some people up there as if you're trying to run interference," Snape muttered at the Auror. "Then break and run."

"Got it. Come on, you three, with me," Snetterton whispered, and the Aurors jogged off.

"Can you see the D.A.?" Harry asked Snape, keeping his head down as if he were more wounded than he really was.

"Longbottom and Zabini are on the east flank with their teams; they haven't buckled," Snape said, sounding approving. "Granger is with Bergess's Auror squad, Ginevra Weasley's group is guarding the Healer teams. All appear to be holding their own."

Harry sighed. "Good. Where's Voldemort?"

"Heading directly toward us. I'd say the ruse is working."

Daring a glance sideways at the Potions Master, Harry whispered, "You'd better run fast when he gets here. He'll kill you if he can."

"I know my business, Potter," Snape replied. "Concentrate on your—WEASLEY, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

Harry's head shot up; he'd forgotten all about the plan. He saw Ron charging Voldemort with the other Aurors, intent on keeping him away from Harry. The dark wizard spotted the red haired boy, saw Harry leaping to his feet in panic, and his lips curved in a cruel sneer. Ron realized at the last second that he was in over his head, and conjured a Crystal Ball Block, but Voldemort took dead aim and fired off a sizzling curse that promptly shattered the Shield in a brilliant flash of light that sent everyone flinching back.

Everyone except Harry. Breathless with panic, he stared as the glare cleared and saw the form on the ground, unmoving.

Ron had taken a direct hit from the Dark Lord Voldemort.

No one ever survived that.

He heard Snape gasp his name, but blood was roaring in his ears as he surged toward both Voldemort and the lifeless body of his best friend. "NOOOOOO!"

At the sound of Voldemort's cold, high, cruel laugh, the same laugh that echoed in his oldest memories from the murder of his parents, Harry whirled, no longer crying aloud, even though his mind still howled, a senseless, deranged scream of grief and rage and denial, and brought his wand to bear on the monster.

"AVADA KEDAVRAAAA!"

As the curse, punctuated by frenzied sobs of anguish and fury, aced towards him, Voldemort reared back, taken by surprise at the speed of Harry's reaction, and encanted a Killing Curse of his own. The two jets of green light met between the young wizard and the Dark Lord, and Harry was vaguely aware of his hand tightening around the wand, now vibrating, as it once again connected to its brother wand in a beam of deep golden light.

Somewhere behind him, he could hear Snape and the Order members shouting warnings and instructions to each other, but it didn't reach him. He wasn't waiting this time; he wasn't really thinking of war or battle anymore. His mind could only process one thing: Voldemort had killed Ron. Ron was gone. Ron, Ron! RON!

Grunting, gasping with grief and rage, he pushed at the light emanating from his wand, even as it lifted both him and Voldemort off their feet. He saw Voldemort attempt to frantically break the connection, jerking his own wand this way and that, but Harry copied the movements, matching them so they remained connected. He wanted it to end. He wanted Voldemort to die. And he didn't much care what happened after that.

Light sparkled around them in the dome shape, just as it had the night of the Third Task, but even the Phoenix Song could not distract him from the misery that blackened his heart. Ron was gone. Ron was gone. There would be no Ron when it was over.

Even the most beautiful sound in the universe held no hope for Harry. He sobbed aloud, tears streaming down his face, for it only made him sadder as it sang on inside of him and around him. He had associated it with Dumbledore once, but now…

Dumbledore was gone. Remus was gone. Percy and George and Draco and Ron! RON! RON was gone!

So the song made him cry. He saw the beads of light appear in the main, thick beam that connected his wand to Voldemort's, and he cried harder, sinking to his knees as he pushed them away. It wasn't as hard or scary as he remembered it being when he was fourteen—or maybe he just didn't care. He gritted his teeth and pushed, his wand shuddering as the beads were forced back toward Voldemort, who remained on his feet but still could not seem to break the connection, even though he tried…

Voldemort fought back; Harry sensed the resistance, the other force trying to push the beads back toward his wand. It made his scar burn something fierce. But nothing really hurt him physically, not anymore. He'd lost too much; there was nothing left to lose.

Dumbledore had once said there were things worse than death. Harry believed it now. Cruciowas nothing to the feeling of loving people, so many people, all gone. Gone forever and never seeing them again. What was death compared to that?

So it didn't hurt much, or maybe he just didn't notice. He pushed, his wand scalding the flesh of his palms, his hands spasming from the tightness of his grip, and he did not even consider letting up. And the beads of golden light, so beautiful, the phoenix song, so beautiful, all the beauty and sweetness a reminder of all he had lost, traveled away from him until they reached the tip of Voldemort's wand, and then connected…

The wand emitted echoing screams of pain again…many, many of them…and the gray shades of people appeared almost at once.

People who had died here on the battlefield today. He saw Steadmann, the Auror who had thrown himself into the path of a Killing Curse to protect Harry, a boy he'd never met. He saw Ministry wizards, other witches and wizards who weren't even Auror trained, but who'd come here as volunteers to fight against Voldemort…he saw former Hogwarts students who had graduated only a few years ago…

Harry's wand shook as their forms swirled around him; he heard their voices, calling out encouragement and support. He saw Cho Chang, a Healer trainee; he hadn't realized Voldemort must have killed her among the Healers trying to save the wounded…his breath caught in his throat as he struggled to keep his wand still, and she whispered, "It's okay, Harry…hold on…you're going to make it…don't give up…don't give up, Harry…you haven't lost everything…"

"I…" Harry gasped for breath. Suddenly, he could feel again; it was starting to hurt. Deep in his chest, and also in his scar and all of his body, the effort of holding the wands in Priori Incantatem was starting to wear on him. And there were still so many people Voldemort had killed…

The shades swirled around him, most of them strangers, a few even Death Eaters who had undoubtedly displeased their Master. They regarded him curiously, but seemed to understand his purpose, and whispered encouragement to him.

Then a group of them moved apart, and a heavyset figure came toward them. Harry was so surprised that he recoiled, and almost lost his grip on his wand, as he looked into the ghostly face of Vernon Dursley.

"Hullo, Harry," his uncle said quietly. "I guess this magic thing's got to me after all."

"I…I…" Harry struggled to think, to answer, and to concentrate on controlling his wand at the same time.

"Listen," Uncle Vernon said. "I know we didn't get on, but…you beat him, all right? For everyone."

"I will," Harry gasped, his throat raw. Sweat ran in his eyes, and through a gap in a few of the shades, he saw that Voldemort had fallen to his knees as well. And still more shades appeared from his wand…

Cedric arrived, joining Cho in calling out to him, words of encouragement and hope. And then…

"Mum!" Harry cried, even before the shade of the woman with long hair had a chance to fully right herself. "Mum, I…"

She came quickly to him, followed closely by his father, and said, "You can, Harry. You can. Don't let go."

"I'm…tired…" he gasped, his chest very heavy. He felt as if all the energy in his body was being drained away by that light, and it hurt, and his arms were feeling weak from trying to hold his wand steady, he couldn't…

"You can," his father said urgently. "You can!"

"KILL HIM!" Voldemort shrieked, and a hex pierced the glowing cage, but the shades swirled around its edges, blocking the Death Eaters' view of Harry.

"We, his victims, are your allies, Harry," said a woman who looked familiar, but Harry couldn't place for a few minutes until he finally recognized her as Dorcas Meadows, an original Order member in the photograph Moody had shown him. "Believe in yourself, allow us to help…you can end this today once and for all…"

He was getting dizzy, feeling weaker by the moment. He was half-doubled over on his knees in the grass, as the wands vibrated on, and the ghosts of Voldemort's victims kept on coming. There were so many. Finally, Voldemort's wand screamed in agony louder than ever, and one last figure emerged…a man, a Muggle, tall and handsome and well-dressed, gazing from his fellow shades to Harry to Voldemort.

"My son…you were my son."

Harry, for a few moments, forgot his own struggles as he watched Tom Riddle, the elder, confronting his murderer…the son he had abandoned along with his mother. "You…" Voldemort snarled, also showing signs of being weakened by the effort of fighting the wands. "Filth! You deserved nothing less than what I gave you!"

Tom Riddle, Sr., turned toward Harry. "Destroy him, boy! He's a murdering monster!"

"Maybe if…you hadn't…treated him…" Harry heard himself grunt. Why such a thing mattered right now, right here, he couldn't imagine, but something made him say it. From the corner of his increasingly-bleary eyes, he saw Uncle Vernon bow his head. Harry's parents looked sad.

But in the surprise, he hadn't noticed that the beads, having nothing left to draw out of Voldemort's wand, were traveling towards his own, and he didn't see them until they touched the tip…

His wand vibrated, burning hot, scalding his hands until he cried out, but there wasn't much to come from it—or so he thought…

The echoes of the various combat curses that he had thrown were uncomfortable to experience as they emerged from his own wand, but he felt he could manage it, just barely, until…

His wand screamed. And so did he, doubling over his knees, trying not to lose the connection or throw up, and when he looked up again, he saw Voldemort's surprised and amused expression, and his parents' shock…

Oh lord. The Cruciatus Curse… He had tried to Crucio Bellatrix Lestrange nearly two years ago, and…he looked at his mother and father and choked out, "I'm—sorry—"

"Don't give up," his mother whispered, her face anxious. "Just hold on."

"You can do it, Harry!" Cedric called.

There wasn't much time…his wand was vibrating harder…his teeth were rattling…he couldn't breathe, it hurt, it hurt, he couldn't, he couldn't…oh god…his wand was…burning…

The shades were vanishing into nothing and the beams of light that made up the cage were closing in, centering themselves in the main beam right between the wands. Harry cried out in pain, and vaguely heard his parents—or maybe someone else—calling to him, telling him to hold on—it hurt so much—his head was splitting open, and the light between them was getting brighter and brighter from all the energy, and it was changing color from gold…to…green, and then…

There was a hissing, sizzling ROAR, and the last thing Harry saw was the green light blazing in front of his eyes, and a blast of searing, devastating, killing pain…

The shock wave of the magical eruption threw Severus off his feet, along with everyone else on the blood-soaked field in Godric's Hollow. He had expected a massive explosion when that sizzling ball of energy had formed in the center of the beam connecting the two wands, but even he hadn't been prepared for when the ball had split, blasting both wands to smithereens and almost certainly killing both people holding them. He heard Hermione Granger screaming as he scrambled back to his feet, and managed to catch the girl before she ran straight up to the two figures lying on the now-empty patch of grass.

"Wait!"

"Harry! HARRY!" Hermione half-shouted, half-sobbed as she struggled to break away from him. "Let me GO!"

"Merlin, is it over?"

"Be careful!" People staggered up and looked at the Dark Lord and the boy, both lying prone. No one was certain whether it was safe to approach them.

Granger finally rammed her elbow into Snape's stomach, staggering him, and wrenched herself free, racing to her friend's side. Fortunately, the girl had the good sense to heed Snape's warnings, and moved cautiously, keeping her wand ready in one hand even as she checked Harry's pulse.

Moody and Smythe-Wellington joined Snetterton standing over the Dark Lord. "He alive?"

"Watch it, I think he just moved."

"Buggeration."

"Granger, what's Potter's condition?"

"He's alive," Hermione said, her voice trembling as she cautiously turned Harry over. Severus caught his breath. The boy's face was starkly white, his scar standing out red and angry against his forehead, his mouth slightly open with his lips a bluish tinge. He was alive. "Barely," she whispered, touching his hair.

Severus knelt beside her, reaching for Harry just as the boy gave a final gasp…and stopped breathing altogether.

Voices shouted in the distance, sounding frightened, but they went further and further away, or maybe it was Harry going further away, into a veil of fog.

It was very quiet and peaceful, and he couldn't quite remember what he had been doing…oh. Voldemort. He'd been fighting Voldemort.

Apparently, he'd lost. He remembered the green light of the Killing Curse in his eyes, just before the pain had erupted—lord, that had hurt—and the world had gone black. And now here he was…wherever "here" was…

"Harry…"

He looked around. "Hello?" He couldn't see a thing in the fog…

The grass, damp with dew, crackled nearby, and he turned…and froze. Coming toward him were none other than…his parents. James and Lily Potter, as real and alive-looking as in the photographs Harry cherished—no, more alive-looking. More real.

"Mum?" he whispered, hardly daring to believe it. "Dad?"

His parents smiled, and his mother reached out to him. Harry cautiously extended his hand, barely daring to hope, having imagined a moment such as this all his life, to see his parents, to touch them…

His hand met his mother's. Her skin was soft and warm, not ghostlike. Real. Like love. With a choked sob, he flew right into her arms. "Mum…" he gasped.

In the silence of the fog, he heard her laugh, and felt his father touching his head and turned and reached for James as well. He wanted to hold onto both of them at once and never let go…

"Oh, Harry," his father said, cupping his cheek, brushing tears away with a fingertip. "We're so proud of you."

"I'm sorry," he said breathlessly. "I tried, I…"

His mother kissed him, and his voice stopped altogether. "You haven't lost," she told him. At his confused reaction, her face sobered. "Harry…you haven't gone yet. You still have to win."

"How?" he asked, looking around in surprise.

"By going back."

"What?" Harry rocked back in dismay, staring from Lily to James. "But I—you—here—"

"Either must die at the hand of the other," said James, putting one arm around Harry and the other around his wife. "You and Voldemort struck each other with Killing Curses, and burned out all the power in both of your wands. One of you will survive, and the other will die. You have to go back, Harry."

Harry's heart sank. "And leave you…"

"You've never left us," Lily insisted, without the slightest note of doubt in her voice. "And we have never left you. Haven't you realized that yet?"

"But I…like this, I've never…" Harry tried to protest.

"I know," his father said softly, touching his hair again. "But there is still plenty of love waiting for you in life. You can't dwell on what you've lost."

Sounds reached Harry's ears then, and he glanced over his shoulder. The fog was parting, and in the distance, he could hear cries of anguish and fear. He shrank back, a little scared, as something came into focus…

A form was lying on the ground, vague and blurry, surrounded by people. They were all in red robes, and in a rush of shock, Harry realized he was seeing himself. Lying on the ground, dead or dying, surrounded by the Order…

He could see Hermione, clinging to Sirius, both of them weeping and talking frantically to the Healers, who were trying to extract Harry's lifeless body from the arms of a figure with red hair…

"Ron!" he gasped, his heart lifting with a surge of simultaneous shock and joy. "Ron's not dead, he's…he didn't…"

His best friend's face was bruised and bloody, and his robes were torn, but Ron didn't seem to notice his own injuries; he was too distraught over the limp figure cradled in his arms. As Harry watched through the mist, astonished, Ron cradled his body and rocked back and forth, crying harder than Harry had ever seen him cry before.

"Harry, Harry, no! No, no, please, don't, Harry, no!" the red-haired boy sobbed, burying his face in Harry's chest as he cradled his lifeless friend. "Please, PLEASE don't leave me, don't do this, please, I can't, no…"

His parents were no longer holding him, but stood close behind him as he watched the scene. "He wants me back," he whispered dully.

"Sirius too," said another familiar voice, and Harry looked back to see Remus now standing beside his parents. He managed a weak smile, and Remus touched his cheek. "You two have a life to start, when the war's over. You all do. Don't walk away from that, Harry."

He sighed, feeling as if his heart were being pulled in two different directions. To see them, to be so near to them filled him with a joy so intense that it hurt, and the thought of leaving them, of never feeling their touch again gave him a terrible pang. But Ron…and Sirius…and Hermione and Ginny and everyone…

He had to go back. If he died, Voldemort would survive. And even if that weren't certain to happen…Ron was crying. He still remembered how he had screamed and cried and tried to kill Voldemort when he'd thought his friend was gone…what would happen to Ron if he didn't go back?

"I know I have to," he murmured, a dull ache filling him at the thought.

"You have never been without love, Harry," said another voice, and he spotted Dumbledore somewhere behind his parents and Remus, smiling as he watched them all. "Remember?"

"Yeah," Harry managed, looking to his parents again.

"We'll never leave you," Remus told him. "What we feel for you, and you for us, will last a lifetime. It would have even if Voldemort had never existed. That is just how love is."

"I know," he said, astonished to find himself fighting tears, even in this strange place.

His mother drew him into her arms, and he held on hard, savoring the sensation of a pair of so real arms, warm and sheltering, loving, holding him tight and physically, the grip conveying all the emotion that he knew he felt but couldn't describe and had always wanted to live with…his father was next, the power of their embraces enough to last a lifetime, if he needed it.

Then they retreated back into the mist, standing close to Dumbledore, and Harry was starting to turn back toward the edge of the fog when someone called his name. "Oy! Harry, wait a second!"

To his complete astonishment, Draco Malfoy came running out of the mist. "Uh, hi?" he stammered.

Could ghosts…or shades…blush? If so, they were both doing it. Draco had apparently had an important reason to talk to Harry, but now that he was here, he hesitated. The other boy's gray eyes flicked to Harry's chest, and he remarked, "Hey, I recognize that."

Harry looked down at the amulet around his neck. "Yeah?"

"Snape. He gave it to me after Frimby Park," Draco said, looking at the ground. "Didn't work against a Killing Curse, obviously, but I guess it's pretty powerful after the fact."

"Oh," Harry said, surprised. "I guess that's why…"

Draco shrugged. "Don't grudge it to you, anyway. Listen, I wanted to ask you if you'd tell Snape something for me. I mean, I know it must've made him pretty…mad, when I…did…you know. So…would you, uh…"

"Yeah, I'll give him a message," Harry said awkwardly. Blimey, dead people really could blush.

Draco toed the grass and muttered, "Just tell him, ah, tell him…" he finally looked appealingly at Harry. "You know the kind of thing I want to say, right?"

"Er…yeah, I think so," Harry said sheepishly. "And I'll…I'll tell him."

Draco looked relieved. "Thanks. Anyway, thanks for…taking care of Voldemort. I can say it now," he added proudly.

Harry felt himself smiling. "You're all right, Malfoy."

Draco grinned. "You too." He nodded past Harry. "Better be getting back."

"Right," Harry sighed. He looked once more at his parents. They smiled, encouraging as if they were wishing him good luck at a Quidditch game or something, and then…

A violent and incredibly-painful gasp forced air into his lungs, making them burn, and his body arched with the effort. The breath that followed wasn't quite so hard, but it still hurt, the next one a little easier, allowing Harry's senses to begin making note of things beyond the desperate struggle to survive.

Such as…GOD, my head hurts…my chest hurts…my stomach—think I'm gonna throw up…my legs hurt…my hands hurt…

Could a person's hair hurt?

Yes.

He wanted to sink back into oblivion and sleep for a few hundred years—or at least until EVERYTHING stopped hurting—but there were noises now, and something jolting him around and preventing him from sinking back into blissful unconsciousness, unfortunately. Eventually, he could distinguish their voices.

"He's breathing—Merlin's beard, he's breathing again."

"Come on, mate, come on," someone sobbed.

"Weasley, CALM yourself!"

"He's dead, he's just died!"

"WHAT?"

"Not him, you idiot, You-Know-Who! HA! Just bloody copped it right in front of us! Good riddance!"

"Alastor, don't give yourself a coronary. Come on, let's get on the pursuit. Death Eaters in full retreat; if we follow, we can probably…"

"Right, SNETTY! Get us a team together, fast!"

"Harry? Can you hear me, love?" Someone was muttering spells as someone else was cushioning his head in their lap. Harry tried to answer, if only to get them all to stop…bloody…TALKING, but all that came out was a low groan through his teeth.

"Did you hear that?"

"Ron, calm down!"

"He's okay, he's okay, he'll be okay, right?"

"Rn…" Harry mumbled. He couldn't even think of opening his eyes; the glare through his eyelids was bad enough. How long had that bloody battle lasted anyway, was it only noon?

Someone else was sobbing now. "He's okay, Sirius," someone said. "He's going to be okay. He won."

"God, my god, I thought I'd…lost him…" his godfather choked out, apparently into someone's shoulders.

"Harry?" said a low voice, as a figure bent over him and blocked out some of the light. "Can you hear me?"

Finally, he forced his eyes open. Snape was leaning over him. He winced—it was still VERY bright—and a Healer he didn't recognize whispered a charm that covered them all with a patch of shade. That helped.

His throat was dry, and he felt like a rag someone had wrung out, but he sucked in his breath and managed to whisper, "Ron?"

"Right here, mate," said a shaky voice, and he spotted his friend's face, tear-streaked, but split by a huge smile of relief. Ron scooted past Tonks and Snape to grip his hand hard. It hurt—his hands were both burned—but at the same time, it felt good. "You scared me half to death," he laughed, still crying.

"You…too…" Harry mumbled, trying to keep his eyes open. "Thought…you…dead…"

"Not me," Ron said dismissively. He looked around and moved to the side, "Hey, here's Sirius."

Harry found himself swept up into his godfather's arms. Sirius shook like a leaf and sobbed a few times into Harry's hair before composing himself. "It's over, Harry, you're safe. You're finally safe. God, for a few minutes, I thought…"

"Yeah," Harry sighed wearily. "Me too. Sirius…" his godfather sat back a little and looked at him. "I…saw Remus. And Mum and Dad…"

Sirius gaped, as did quite a few of the others, but Hermione said from somewhere behind them, "I'd believe him if I were you."

"I do," Sirius said softly, and folded Harry into his arms again.

"So is that it?" Ron asked, rubbing Harry's back. "Is the war finally done with?"

"'m not dead, wha' more d'you want?" Harry mumbled at him, with his face half-smothered in his godfather's robes.

"Let us handle the rest of it," said Tonks cheerfully, ruffling his hair. "You've done more than your share. The Death Eaters took off as soon as you and Voldy dropped, and Moody and Snetty are keeping after them."

"Voldy?" exclaimed Ginny, from somewhere outside Harry's rather limited vision.

"What's the matter, the git's dead!"

"Good point. Voldy. I like it."

"Or, if you're still squeamish, just call him the Big Dead Git," said Lee Jordan, sitting on the ground behind Ron with Fred next to him. That was the first time since George had been lost that Harry had seen Fred smile.

"As much as this naming game is amusing, I suggest we move Mr. Potter back to Hogwarts," said Snape.

"I quite agree," said Tonks, rubbing her dirty face with a marginally-less-dirty sleeve of her Auror robes. "We've still got cleanup out here. You lot and the D.A. get back to Hogwarts and get some sleep, or help in the hospital wing."

"Aye-aye, madam," said Sirius. He tried to get to his feet, but one leg, wrapped heavily with a makeshift bandage that still oozed blood, promptly folded under him. "Argh. Bloody hell."

"Here, I've got you, Sirius," said Ginny, taking one of his arms, and joined by Hermione on the other.

"I wanna walk," Harry said, trying to squirm out of the arms holding him.

Ron snorted, "You nearly DIED, mate, you can't walk—"

"Leggo!" Harry pulled away from Fred and Lee. "I want to walk!"

"Potter, do not be ridiculous!"

"Geroff!" Harry pushed his friends away, landing on the dirt, and groaned. "Bloody…lemme walk. Sick of being carried everywhere…"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, if the kid wants to walk off his victorious battlefield, let him already!" Tonks yelled at them.

Ron shrugged. "As my mum would say, on your head be it. Here, let me give you a hand at least."

"'Kay," Harry accepted Ron's help getting to his feet, and leaned on his friend, once he managed to stay upright on VERY unsteady legs.

"You sure you want to try this, mate?"

"I wanna walk!" Harry said petulantly. Ron rolled his eyes, and slung an arm around his waist. Hermione came to support him on the other side, leaving Fred to assist Sirius.

"All right. Oh, look, reporters here already. How about that, Harry, just imagine how notorious you are now!" Hermione teased.

Harry groaned loudly, and Sirius remarked, "Does this make you the Boy-Who-Lived Thrice?" They all groaned at that.

"I've changed my mind…think I'd rather be dead."

"Ah, don't worry about them," said Seamus Finnegan, stumping up with Dean Thomas leaning on his shoulder. "After what you pulled off today, they'll be scared of you."

"There's a thought," said Ron.

And so, they made their way slowly off the battlefield, toward the Godric's Hollow cemetery, which had suffered little damage, surprisingly, in the fighting. Ron and Hermione noticed when Harry slowed his forward progress, and they followed his gaze to the stones. "They've never left you," Hermione whispered to him. "And we here still need you."

"I know," Harry said, around a highly-irritating lump in his throat. "That's why I came back."

They made it off the field beyond the wards, to where the St. Mungo's staff were gathered around Portkey Platforms to transport the wounded here and there. They had to wait for a few minutes, because the seriously-injured had to go first, but fortunately, they were no longer in view of the reporters. Ginny came back from talking to Ella Collins, a Slytherin in her year who'd been working with the Healer teams, and announced, "They've got one for us. We'll have to take turns, but we can go."

"Right-o, then," said Ron. "Ready, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry grunted. They were only about a hundred yards from the Portkeys when the rather tenuous strength in his legs suddenly gave out altogether, and his knees buckled. "Oh lord…" Ron and Hermione yelped and grabbed for him as he sagged.

As he managed to sit up on the ground, Hermione asked, "Did you black out?"

"Uh-uh," he mumbled, and over their protests, pulled himself upright again. A few steps later, he went down faster and harder, his head spinning and his entire body starting to throb again.

"That time, you fainted," Ron informed him matter-of-factly, as they sat him up again.

Someone shoved Ron out of the way. "Enough, Potter. You've made your point." And Harry found himself swept up into Snape's arms. "Leave your Gryffindor bravado so we can reach the hospital wing sometime today."

Harry laughed wearily into Snape's shoulder, closing his eyes as he was carried toward the Portkey with his friends and Sirius trailing behind (all looking incredibly smug). "Whatever you say, sir."

To be continued…

Coming soon: (Very soon) Voldemort is gone, but some of his top followers are still at large. One battle remains to be fought, scores are left to be settled, loose ends tied up, and words left to be said in Chapter Forty-Nine: The Wicked Die Alone!

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