Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and JL. Any remaining errors are my own.

Chapter 53: Final Battles
"Ah, Severus. So prompt. I am very pleased with you. I had all but given up hope. I will expect you here on Halloween night, to serve me the first dose of your brilliant potion. I long for this body to be stronger—and immortal."

"Yes, my Lord," Severus said, rising from his obeisance. It was with Herculean effort he did not so much as glance at the limp form hanging only a few feet away. He did not even know if she was alive.

"I would have killed your pet, but Lucius suggested if you were the one who seemed to 'rescue' her, it might increase your favor with my enemies. Do they still try to maintain the Order even without Dumbledore?"

"Yes, my Lord," Severus said again, clinically making note of the fact that Lucius still seemed to be at least attempting to follow through with his oath and his manipulations earlier managed to attain the desired result.

"It seems she is quite determined to 'save' herself for you. We were unable to remove whatever spell it is she used so she cannot be touched. It doesn't go away with unconsciousness. I'm not sure how you will transport her. That's your problem, though, isn't it?

"Take her and go." With a wave of his wand the bonds restraining her to the ceiling were gone and Severus heard her slump to the floor behind him.

Severus did not betray his relief she had been spared that violation at least. He turned to Rowena with bored unconcern and used the Mobilicorpus spell to get her out of the room. Once they were alone, he canceled her spell with a wave of his wand, "Finite Incantatem", scooped her carefully and gently into his arms, and Apparated to Grimmauld Place.

John Lupin greeted him at the door while one of Severus' house elves disappeared to return to Hogwarts to summon Poppy. John had to all but run to follow him as he raced to the drawing room and laid her gently upon the bed. He, like Rowena, was not as skilled as in Healing as John or the nurse, but he remained and assisted as he could to clean wounds and stop bleeding.

The worst was a massive concussion. The skull was broken above it, but the bone had not fragmented or caused obvious injury to the brain beyond the concussion itself. The fracture might actually prove to be beneficial, as it might allow some relief of the pressure caused by the swelling, which might minimize any long-term damage—too many 'mights' and 'maybes'. It would be some days before they would know how fully she would recover.

Severus, in his diagnostic work, noted that John found and repaired the ruptured fallopian tubes. It was a minor injury in comparison with the others, but then Severus supposed there was a reason John Lupin was so well respected at St. Mungo's. He was very thorough.

When the healing was done—as much as could be managed without the simple gift of time—Poppy shooed the men out and let Tonks help her bathe Rowena and dress her in some clean pajamas. The men returned to the room when she permitted it, and the three of them settled as comfortably as possible around the bed. Becky was with Katrina in Hogsmeade—John and Remus had deliberately kept her a bit in the dark as to the seriousness of the situation so as not to worry her excessively.

Severus took a chair next to her bed, and held her hand. He was silent and implacably grave. He did not even attempt to make the pretense of unconcern. John and Remus sat on the other side of the bed. John, holding her other hand, Remus by her head with a hairbrush, gently and methodically combing out the tangles which remained after Madame Pomfrey's cleaning. When it was smooth and free of tangles, he expertly braided it in one long braid to the side of her head so that lying in bed wouldn't tangle it further. He toyed absently with the pointed tuft in his hands.

"I still find it hard to believe you actually spent all that time with your sister's hair, even having seen proof of it at your wedding," Severus said at last, needing something mundane to talk about to ease his worried mind away from her unconscious form. Remus glanced up and gave a small, tired smile.

"I complained a lot, of course. But really, I loved playing with her hair. It was the only 'affectionate' thing she let me do, she was such a tomboy. Besides, it's never cool to want to hug your sister. So playing with her hair was like our way of showing affection…"

Remus's voice broke; his sentence trailed off and he brushed a trembling hand across his face. John Lupin carried on then

"They were inseparable, those two. 'Wena was terrified of heights, so naturally she insisted on climbing trees at least twice a week. She was sure if she just kept making herself get high up off the ground, eventually the fear would simply go away. Remus always climbed up after her and talked her down—often had to carry her down.

"She's not a girl you can hold back once she sets her mind to something."

Severus gave a small, mirthless laugh, "I've noticed."

They fell again into uneasy silence, watching and waiting.

Sunday evening, John Lupin decided it was safe to move her. Poppy had more comfortable facilities at the school and Severus wanted to be able to check on her readily while still maintaining secrecy. They settled her in the comfortable, secret room in the hospital wing at Hogwarts with relative ease by using Severus' Portkey.

Minerva maintained the story she had used while he was injured and unable to teach—that Severus was tending an ill relation—and let the St. Mungo's Potion's Master continue to take his classes. Any other time he would have been horrified at the thought of a stranger mucking about in his stores. Now, it seemed insignificant. It was enough he didn't have to leave her, at least not unless he was Summoned.

Remus came to visit multiple times a day. He would redo her braid and sit beside her awhile, talking to her. Sometimes Tonks or Katrina was with him, sometimes not. John came morning and evening, but still maintained his medical practice so he couldn't be gone long. Harry Potter stopped in at least once a day to ask if Severus needed anything, occasionally bringing him a book or the day's newspaper.

Mostly, though, he was alone, staring unseeingly at her face. The bruises were fading, her color was warm and pink, and her breathing easy. She did seem to be improving—but had not regained consciousness. It seemed so bittersweet, utterly unfair. To have gone through so much, have come so far, and feel he had still lost her.

John kept reassuring him. It had only been two days; he mustn't give up hope. However, hope, for Severus, was an even more painful thing than despair.

He stayed through the night, next to her bed, watching over her. On Tuesday night, in complete exhaustion, Severus gently climbed onto the bed beside her, sliding an arm underneath her neck so he could hold her close. Somehow she still smelled like flowers, her hair silky against his cheek.

He was awakened in the morning by gentle kisses on his mouth and face and a warm wash of deepest love through the Bond, such as he had never thought to experience again. His eyes flew open in astonishment to see her warm chocolate brown ones staring back at him.

"Does this mean you're not too angry with me?" she asked with a weak smile.

Relief washed over him, as powerful as the pain of the days before, and he crushed her against his chest. His voice was choked with emotion and he buried his face in her hair as he spoke. Her arms wound around him as though she was equally desperate to make certain he was real.

"Furious. Livid. Enraged beyond expression. If you had died I would have never forgiven you. Since you are blessedly alive, you will instead have to bear the torturous punishment of spending the rest of your life as my wife, as soon as this bloody war is over," he said gruffly.

"Deal," she said, half laughing, half crying as waves of overwhelming relief and love washed over her. The powerful emotions, shared through the healed Bond were like crashing tidal waves, each more overwhelming than the last. There WAS the tint of anger there, as she expected, but it was overshadowed by relief. She felt him shake his head and then he pulled enough away from her smothering embrace to look at her face.

"No. I did not ask you properly the first time. I suppose I ought to make the attempt this time, rather than command it—or turn it into the punishment it may well prove to be," he said with a hint of a smirk quirking one corner of his mouth. He caressed a hand over her cheek, his fathomless black eyes searching hers. "Will you marry me, Rowena?"

She hugged him tighter and nodded, for a moment her voice utterly lost from the emotion constricting her throat. She gave up trying to restrain it so that it gushed forth in sobs of laughter.

"Of course! Yes!"

He sought her lips, drinking in her kisses, savoring the taste of her, even the saltiness of her tears. He allowed himself to both give and receive the flood of emotion through the healed Bond—among them a great surge of joy and relief as he had never experienced before. Not only did he have something to live for—but it actually appeared as though he might get to fully experience it.

"Did it work?" she asked at last, holding him close and nuzzling her nose along his neck, licking at the limited portion of his throat she could reach around the high collar. "Did we do it? He's going to take the potion?"

"Yes, you reckless idiot. I have slowly gleaned information as to how you did what you did, but yes, it worked. You lied to my house elves, deceived my portrait, stole from my potion stores—and it worked."

"I most certainly did not—you gave them to me, so at the time they were MY house elves, and you told Albus…"

"Did you bother to enlighten them I was still ALIVE at the time you were thieving?"

"No, but…"

"Slytherin, through and through," he said shaking his head, "With perhaps a tad too much Gryffindor…"

"Remus said I ought to have been a Marauder," she giggled.

"Now that sounds insulting," he said sardonically, before silencing her again with another devouring kiss.

When she was well enough to leave the hospital wing, Severus himself transported her directly back to Grimmauld Place.

"You are to live here until this mess is over," he said imperiously. She, of course, had the audacity to look outraged and clearly intended to argue.

"I have told my associates you recall enough of what happened to you to be too frightened to return to Hogwarts." He held up a hand to stay her protests," It is assumed I Oblivated you, badly. It is much more difficult to do with an unconscious target. You will be SAFE here, Rowena. I am going to make it clear I have no idea where you are. You've done enough. We both have. I won't risk it again."

Through the Bond she could feel his love, but also his fear and his desperate need to protect her.

He had all but carried her into the house and up to the room she used before, next to Katrina's. She was well enough to walk, but she was still stiff and sore and tired very easily. She'd be on a regimen of potions for a few weeks, just as he still was from his injuries. Once in the room he gently deposited her on the bed and paced the room as he gave his directives.

"Additionally," he said with a sly glint in his eye, "if you are here, then I do not have to concern myself with intrusive students when I want to be with my fiancée."

To his complete delight, she blushed.

He closed the door then stalked back toward the bed and crawled up onto it. He was not quite laying on top of her—concerned, perhaps still for her injuries—but one strong, muscular thigh slipped between hers as his chest crushed her into the bed. In an instant his mouth and hands began to wreak havoc with her senses. She sighed softly against the heat of his lips and his tongue immediately pressed its advantage. Molten, caressing strokes of lips and teeth and tongue. Desire ignited like lightning, fed through the Bond which was so miraculously healed. Hot, honeyed kisses slid slowly down her sensitive throat and neck, only to return to nip and suck at her ears and lips.

He had had this precious gift once before and it was nearly destroyed—he nearly destroyed it. To lose it again would destroy him.

"Rowena," he said huskily, his breathing ragged and his hardness pressing hot and tempting against her thigh. "Rowena, you must promise me you will stay in this house."

How he could think of such a thing when her body was on fire, her hips arching to make contact with that delicious hardness, was beyond her. But he was thinking of it and she could feel the taint of his fear through the Bond. Moreover, the truth of the matter was, the ordeal had terrified her.

She knew she was lucky to be alive; somehow You-Know-Who had never really tested her Occlumency very vigorously or she would not have been able to hold out. That might have ruined everything. She had no way of knowing WHY he hadn't tested her more thoroughly, though she assumed it was Severus and Harry's manipulations through Harry's connection which convinced the psychopath there was 'nothing to see'.

She didn't want to have to face that again herself. It was perhaps very cowardly, but she just couldn't do it. To stay safe and sound inside this house with Katrina while the war raged outside sounded pretty damn fine from where she was sitting… er… laying.

"Conditions," she managed to say breathlessly, quirking a teasing grin up at him.

"Which are?" he said warily, raising a brow and leaning away enough to look into her face.

"One, you come at the bare minimum of once a week, for at least an hour and kiss me like this," she said, ticking off her 'conditions' by holding up fingers of the hand which had been entwined in his hair moments before. "Two, I get reports from SOMEBODY twice a day as to what is going on. It doesn't have to be you, but don't go telling people NOT to tell me things. Three, we get married as soon as humanly possible after that monster is dead. And last but not least, no more attempts at Gryffindor heroics. You already ARE my hero, I want you to live long enough I get a good long 'rest of our lives' to prove it."

He bent his head and kissed her, suckling on her lower lip, worrying at it with his teeth as he had often seen her do herself.

"One, I suppose I can manage," he said dryly before kissing her again.

"Two, you will be living in Headquarters with the werewolf and the Auror, you will probably know more than I will as it is." Again his mouth claimed hers hungrily.

"Three, I negotiate to state we get married as soon as humanly possible after the monster is dead AND his most dangerous minions are adequately dealt with. He is the primary danger, but I will take no risks." This had been stated with a more 'business like' air, but was still followed by a passionate kiss, as though her kisses were more vital to him than air.

"Finally, I fear we will argue a great deal if you insist on being insulting. No one has ever accused me of Gryffindor traits; I will not permit you to start." She was grinning up at him, clearly struggling not to laugh. He rewarded her levity with his best haughty glare, which had the desired effect—in that she dissolved into giggles at once.

He smiled at her and then resumed his attentions to her body until he had successfully kissed her breathless again. It was the most delicious feeling in the world, to have her so warm and pliant, returning his kiss with the eager abandon he had feared never to know again.

"Thank Merlin!" he said with exaggerated relief as he sat up at the edge of the bed suddenly, a good deal of time later.

"What?" She asked dazedly, looking up at him, her eyes dark and glazed with the heat of desire, her lips pink and swollen from his kisses, her chest heaving as she struggled to control her breathing.

"An hour. My time is up. I fear that will get to be quite a chore. Once a week was the condition? I don't know how I will manage," he said, smirking at her.

"Oh! You!" she grabbed her pillow and swung it at him, but he ducked easily.

"Yes, me. I did agree to your conditions, I am merely trying to abide by them."

She was laughing as she sat up next to him and leaned against his shoulder. It really was a good idea the kissing stopped. She didn't need to ask to know he would not make love to her until they were married again, and too much more of that frustration would have her quite mad. A little, though, was lovely.

"I do need to return to Hogwarts. I will have Minerva send the papers which will cancel your class. If you truly enjoyed it so much, perhaps you can teach again when the war is over."

"Just so you know, I'm not signing anything until I've read it back to front," she said warningly and, though she meant it to be teasing, he flinched.

"A very wise decision when tangling your life with a Slytherin," he said, taking her hand and squeezing it so she knew he wasn't angry at the reminder.

His other hand reached into his pocket and pulled out her ring, the one he had given her almost exactly a year before, when they were married. He turned it in his fingers so it sparkled in the candlelight of the room, and was pleased to notice the fire inside the stone was flaring brightly once again. He hadn't been aware fire diamonds responded to the emotions of the wearer or the purchaser in that way, but apparently they did.

"I did not know if you would prefer a new ring, as we start afresh, or if you were fond of this one," he said. The feeling she received from him through the Bond was of a hint of uncertainty.

"You've still got it," she said in wonder. "I figured you'd get rid of it, or maybe not even bother to find it. I was embarrassed after I threw it at you and tried to find it later but I couldn't."

"My ferret found it. Of course I still have it," he said with amusement. "I had thought to give it to this other woman I've developed a fancy for, but she seems to have a deplorable habit of shagging just about anything that has the appropriate bits."

She squealed with laughter and pretended outrage as she shoved his shoulder slightly with her own.

"Don't you even joke about giving that Garvey woman my ring!" she said indignantly and held out her left hand regally. He gently took her hand in his and slid the ring on her delicate finger. The emotion through the bond was of deep, tender love bordering on reverence. The possessive flash in his eyes as he looked up at her nearly made her breathless all over again.

"No, Lupin, MY ring. You are mine. I will have no other."

The end of the war was almost anticlimactic after that, at least for Rowena. She was a little impatient, as she had rather expected You-Know-Who to drink the potion on Halloween and then do some grandiose attack at once, so she would surely be married before the end of November. It wasn't quite THAT slick.

She passed the time cheerfully enough, as there were always Order members passing through, just as Severus had said. She got to be with Katrina almost constantly, and the stolen moments of heated kisses came with even more than the 'agreed upon' regularity. Owl Order catalogs sufficed to soothe her urge to 'shop' for things she wanted for the wedding, including her dress, though for now all she did was look. He had said he wanted her to plan for her 'fairy tale' ceremony, and he would 'attempt to endure' it. She still giggled at the pained look on his face—as if she would truly torment him with Albus' cherubs!

Minerva carefully packed all her things from the school and gave them to her parents in Hogsmeade. Her father then made a point to bring at least one shrunken trunk full on each visit to the house, until soon he had brought everything she owned, including Vixen. No one outside the Order seemed any the wiser as to where she went, so Severus' mandate as to her safety was obeyed to the letter.

The potion apparently gave the best result if consumed once daily for precisely one complete moon cycle. Severus personally 'served' each dose. He often stopped to see her after such visits and, while she could tell they were stressful for him, he also seemed inordinately pleased with himself. Pride and satisfaction were definitely a good 'look' for him.

While the school was not suddenly and viciously attacked, the Wizarding World at large seemed to continue to be so. She discovered to her dismay, with Gringotts 'closed' it was impossible to order the things she was choosing from the catalogs, even had she wished to. People still disappeared inexplicably in the midst of floo travel—those few people still foolish enough to use the floo network. Apparition and Portkey use had increased as modes of travel, so there was also a dramatic jump in splinching accidents.

All in all it was with a mingled sense of fear and relief when Remus and Tonks had to leave suddenly late at night in the middle of December to rush to Hogwarts.

The final attack had begun.

It started out as a kind of siege of sorts, giving the Order and Ministry far more time than was wise to heighten defenses and counter-attack. The Ministry even sent out an all-Wizarding Distress call to any country in which they had ambassadors. Wizards from all over the world came to help defeat Europe's greatest enemy.

The thing—whatever it was exactly—which Albus had done in the act of sacrificing his life, seemed to successfully make Hogwarts all but impenetrable. Death Eaters worked tirelessly to try to penetrate the wards, moving to attempt a new location every few days. Albus' portrait merely smiled knowingly, even when Severus pointed out with exasperation that it was entirely worthless for him to make a potion to make the Dark Lord more vulnerable to Potter's unique defense, if Potter was so well protected as to be unable to NEED the defense.

For the first time since she had regained consciousness, Severus failed to make his 'once a week' visit to see her at Grimmauld Place. They communicated often in emotional touches through their Bond. She understood, she was not upset, she wasn't going to do anything stupid, but he still felt out of sorts to go so long without being with her.

Ministry and Order wizards regularly attacked and harried the Death Eaters, with little result. They were surrounded by a completely mobile, completely loyal defensive perimeter of Dementors and Giants. The Dementors were utterly destroyed whenever they accidentally came into contact with the wards in a brilliant, spectacular explosion of red-gold light, as though the sun itself swallowed them up. Severus internally tipped his hat to his deceased mentor. The giants were uninjured by the wards, but no amount of pummeling seemed to damage them in the least. So they merely formed an almost impenetrable wall around the working Death Eaters. Minor skirmishes occurred continually.

Why, though? There weren't enough Death Eaters out there to come close to the number Severus believed the Dark Lord to have. Where were the others?

By mutual agreement, after the ordeal in October Severus had instructed Harry not to access the Dark Lord's thoughts unless Severus was present, and they believed it to be an emergency. As it is, what they had done had been exceedingly dangerous. Severus did not want to risk getting 'caught'. He was utterly unwilling to repeat the nightmare.

Now that the potion cycle was over and the Death Eaters were behaving in an inexplicable fashion it seemed it was time to go and have a look.

There they were. Throngs of white-masked, black-cloaked figures. The dim room seemed to be crawling with them like rats in a sewer.

Except there were rats as well and it did look like a…

"The Chamber of Secrets!" Harry groaned, breaking the connection and slapping a hand over his forehead, momentarily hiding the angry red scar which ached so continually now he had long since ceased to whinge about it.

"Are you certain?" Severus asked.

Harry nodded. Severus turned to look at Albus' portrait. They seemed to gravitate to his sitting room when they did this, at least in part because they both felt comforted by the realistic image of the man who had meant so much to them.

"Was this intentional?" he asked dryly.

The portrait Albus actually chuckled.

"Oh, yes. I'm afraid it was. The protection will still be in effect—which it wouldn't be if you went outside the walls—but it is also weakest there because it couldn't penetrate very far into the earth, which makes it the natural place for him to try to get through. That and the fact he's very proud of himself for finding it to begin with and feels it's his birthright to 'own' the Chamber. I wouldn't be surprised if he's been using it to some degree or another since his rebirth."

"And this is a matter for amusement because…?" Severus asked, rubbing his temples with fatigue.

"Because, the only way to get into the school from the Chamber is the tunnel—you need to go show him, Harry. It's very steep and at best would only allow two or three people at a time. A handful of decent wizards could hold it indefinitely, so it doesn't really matter it's the weak spot, because it isn't so weak," Albus said patiently.

"You were planning of notifying someone of this planned weakness, when?" Severus asked with mounting annoyance.

"Well, now seems like a good time," the portrait said, selecting a lemon sherbet from the bag on the table in the painting. "If I had told anyone before, it might have gotten leaked somewhere and then the trap wouldn't be a trap now, would it?"

"Wow! You planned all this all that time? That's brilliant," said Harry, grinning at the Headmaster's portrait. Albus winked at him, blue eyes a-twinkle even on the canvas.

"Do NOT encourage him, Potter," Severus snarled. "Come, show me this tunnel."

It was no great effort to use the small Anti-Apparition ward gap in the tunnel under the Whomping Willow to gradually trickle in reinforcements. These included a great many Aurors, all the Order members, and volunteer combat personnel, some of whom were from other countries. These last first had to pass Moody's rigorous 'clearance'. The Willow was far enough from the walls the Death Eaters working outside them would be unable to see the arrival of the reinforcements. Sprout used weather charms to keep a heavy fog over the area to increase the secrecy.

"Sev! Howdy! Betcha didn't reckon on seein' me again so soon, eh?"

Dylan Howard strode forward, beaming brightly, spurs a-jangle and white hat lacking only a bulls-eye target in Severus' opinion.

"No, Howard, I did not, but then I ought not to have depended on the Fates to be that kind to me. I have been granted enough miracles in my life as of late, it would seem," he said dryly as he stood inside the doors to the heavily warded staff corridor, 'welcoming' the new arrivals. He was handing out castle maps, lodging assignments, and strategic planning meeting times.

Another man, not as tall as Howard but still clearly a 'cowboy', stepped around him and Severus raised a brow at this man's appearance of cool anger.

He also bore a striking resemblance to Lucius Malfoy—if Malfoy would ever be caught dead in faded denim jeans, a plaid shirt with mother-of-pearl snaps and tarnished silver bolo tie.

This cowboy's sleek blond hair was restrained in a ponytail with some sort of beaded leather band. It was the white-blond of hours spent in the sun and the man appeared a good deal younger than Lucius. The ice gray eyes were identical, though Lucius would never allow his to peer out from skin that tanned and weather-beaten. Still, the resemblance in the face and demeanor was pronounced.

"You have a problem with Dylan comin' all the way here to help you out when he's barely back on his feet? Who the hell are you?" This man asked with a tone of arrogance of which Lucius would not have been ashamed. His accent was less thick than Howard's and he had less of the air of deliberate laziness.

"Josh, this is Severus. You r'member, I told ya about him. He's friends with that fella, Luke that looks so much like you. Severus, this here's my partner, Josh," Dylan said, taking the other man by the hand with a strange sort of smile on his face.

Severus handed them both the requisite papers with a very small nod.

"Delighted, I'm sure. You are partners? I assume that means you can hold a wand? Howard appeared to be tolerably skilled when he was not eyeing all the females within ten years of his age."

The one called 'Josh' laughed at this and the two cowboys exchanged a look and a smile which was utterly incongruous with what Severus thought he understood about the one man at the very least.

"Sev, I'm right sorry. I oughtta've told ya before, but I admit… I was havin' a hoot makin' ya jealous about Rowena. Josh's my partner. I dunno how it is 'round here, but they don't let two fellas marry where we come from…"

A look of sudden comprehension flashed across Severus' glittering black eyes and he raised a hand up to halt the explanation.

"I see. Spare me the details. Fascinating though your… situation… must be, I do not wish to hear it. I have grown far too used to fun at my expense to take exception now on the brink of war. If you are here to fight, you are both welcome. Please excuse me, I have work to do."

"D'ya work everythin' out with Rowena, then?" Dylan asked.

"What makes you say that?" Severus sneered, "Not that it is any of your business."

"Well, I reckon you were plumb near ready t'skin me alive b'fore I got on that train. I don't s'pose you'd be takin' the joke so easy if things hadn't been patched up."

For a moment, Severus was actually appalled to realize Howard was right. A year ago, hell, a month ago, he would have been incredibly angry. Now, he merely saw the amusement in the situation. He raised a brow, and his sneer turned into a self-satisfied smirk.

"Are you angling for an invitation to the wedding, Howard? I suppose you will have to bring your 'partner' as well? I will attempt to remember to ask Rowena to add you to the list."

He turned on his heel and walked haughtily away in an impressive swish of billowing robes, as Dylan and Josh whooped their congratulations after him.

To Severus annoyance, the attack and defense occurred precisely as smoothly as Albus predicted. For days, Death Eaters trickled up the tunnel, sometimes invisible or disillusioned, but never made it out of the room. The female ghost who claimed to 'own' one of the toilets whinged continuously about the noise and the gore, but she never went away.

Eventually, however, the trickle stopped. Not because they were out of Death Eaters, but because they realized their grand plan wasn't working.

Now was the time for Harry to make his presence known. It was HIS turn to send messages and images to Voldemort, and let him consciously KNOW that the messages were from him. Taunting. Goading. Tempting.

Voldemort wanted Harry to come down and face him in the 'Chamber of my Ancestors'.

Eventually, Harry agreed. This was what they had been waiting for, and the forces inside the castle planned a massive attack on the Death Eaters outside, to draw away as many of the Death Eaters as possible, to make Voldemort fight on two fronts.

There was a bit of a row, internally, over this plan. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger stubbornly insisted that they be included in the small party which would accompany Potter into the Chamber. This was flat-out refused, and they raised a fuss, with arguments and pleadings, pointing out all the times they had helped Potter in the past.

It was Potter himself who made them realize the logic of why they could not come. Potter reasoning with anyone was so astounding that Severus thought perhaps the apocalypse was truly upon them.

"You can't come, guys," Harry said, firmly, after hours of discussion. "Voldemort knows you're my best friends. If you show up, he'll attack you first, and there won't be anything I can do to protect you. That's how he works. I'm not letting Remus come, either.

"You guys need to lead the DA on the counter attack. That will help me a lot more than worrying about you down in the Chamber. I can't do what I need to do if I'm worrying about you."

The simple fact was so irrefutable, they had to relent at last.

Voldemort, in his insane megalomania, insisted the Death Eaters remaining in the Chamber with him could only 'observe' because he wanted the final thrill of killing Harry at last. Voldemort believed himself to be invincible now from the potion, so sent the majority of his forces out to fight when the counterattack began full force outside. He kept only enough to be witnesses to his victory.

Harry faced him with a handful of Order Members he had chosen himself—deliberately choosing those of whom he was not believed to be excessively fond. Moody, McGonagall, Snape, and Kingsley. Remus wanted to come, but was refused for the same reasons as Ron and Hermione. Besides, he was needed to lead the forces outside. Voldemort was simultaneously delighted and suspicious that Snape was among the group. Harry's escort was also supposed to witness, not interact.

The Dark Lord began to talk. At length. About his greatness, his invulnerability, his power, his loyal minions, his plans for world domination, the perfection of his plan to get Harry at last…

Severus knew from experience he could go on for hours.

He also knew from experience Potter had the attention span of a Niffler in a diamond mine.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it. You're really awesomely powerful and I'm a weak kid with an incredible amount of luck which has finally run out—right about the time that you started trying to bore me to death. Got it. I understand. Why don't you prove it now, instead of yapping about it, because honestly, you've got the most annoying voice I've ever heard. I'd rather be dead than listen to another word."

Severus also knew from experience Potter knew just how to really make a bloke angry. He resisted the temptation to slap a hand over his face in hopeless weariness. He hadn't managed to train Potter out of his Gryffindor recklessness after all.

Well, the plan had been to duel with him for a while, first, to give Potter's protection from his mother a chance to 'recharge' from the energy the Dark Lord expended on the curses…. He had known all along Potter would have to muck it up somewhere along the way. He was actually surprised it had taken this long for him to do it, and savagely disappointed he had to ruin the most important part of the plan, rather than something stupid and meaningless earlier.

He braced himself to have to grab Potter's body and fight his way out of here—all five of them had Portkeys for quick transport back into the castle, but there would be wandfire everywhere the minute Potter died.

"Avada Kedavra!" shrieked the Dark Lord, predictably.

Potter didn't die. The green light shot toward him and seemed to hit him, except that he just stood there looking bored and slightly angry as he became surrounded by a vivid aura of brilliant red-gold light.

Dumbledore. Dumbledore had provided the energy needed!

The Dark Lord's eyes widened with fear and surprise—everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Severus could almost SEE Potter lazily gather the energy which had just been thrown at him, as easily and carelessly as though scooping up snow to make a snowball. Suddenly it shot back in a perfect arc of red-gold; it struck the Dark Lord full in the chest, like a bolt of lightning. The handful of Death Eaters in the room clutched their arms. Some screamed. Severus merely hissed—he had been expecting the pain.

But Voldemort also wasn't dead. Inhuman eyes blinked as the skeletally thin chest fought for air and the wand aimed back at Harry.

"Crucio!"

But the word was barely intelligible, a garbled hiss, and nothing happened. Nothing at all. Voldemort shook his wand like a Muggle thermometer, as though to get the magic out of it, but his skeletally thin legs would no longer support him and he fell to his knees to the ground.

"What have you done?" he scraped out.

Potter was grinning. GRINNING.

"I think you are now officially a Muggle, mate," he said with barely restrained laughter. "Or do you get to count as a Squib because you used to have magic? I heard Professor Dumbledore tell you once there are worse things than death, and you didn't believe him. How do you feel about that now?"

Moody and Kingsley had bathed the room in an anchoring charm the instant they realized that the Curse hadn't killed Harry. It was a gamble, because it would affect them as well, but no one could Apparate or Portkey away. Moody began confiscating wands with a summoning charm when the Death Eaters became confused and disoriented, first, at the unexpected pain of the Mark on their arms and then, at the sight of the husk which had once contained their powerful Master, sobbing on the floor in front of Potter.

The Boy Who Lived Again.

A/N: More chapters coming soon--they are written, just waiting for beta'ing and editing. Will be posted before Friday's release of HBP!