Readers! First off I want to apologize for leaving you for so long. Yes, I can hear you now... "You haven't updated since February!" I know hangs head. But can I possibly use this last (and final) chapter of Sphinx as a bargaining chip?
Dragonfires
"Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you."- Coldplay, "Fix You"
Harry stood over the small cauldron, stirring the mix of ingredients, while Isadora, over another cauldron, measured out the gold and silver. They had managed to find the silver among the medical supplies, and the gold from Hermione's necklace.
Harry wrinkled his nose as the potion began to emit black vapor. "This smells terrible," he commented after adding the last bit of Draco's flesh and setting the spoon on a table.
"Well, be thankful then that you don't have to inject it," said Draco, who was bandaging Hermione's arm and his own.
"I want to," snapped Harry.
"Stop it, you two," said Hermione. "We should relax. I know that much of the time, potions don't work as well if everyone is tense when they take it. I know we are going to be, but the more relaxed we are, the better."
"She's right," said Isadora. "Harry, can you help me clean out these syringes?" Harry stood up and walked over to the Veela.
"Draco," said Hermione, when they were alone. "Do you really think either you or Isadora will die?"
"I do," he replied. "But if it ends up being me, I'm taking Voldemort with me."
"You know," she said smiling. "I remember Harry saying something like that once- that if he died, he was going to take as many Death Eaters with him as he could, and possibly Voldemort."
Draco shrugged. "It's true."
"So what do you think the Sphinx will look like?"
"A Sphinx."
"I had that figured out, thanks."
"I don't know, Hermione. Probably pretty big and powerful. That's all I can really think of."
Hermione shrugged, checked her watch, and looked back at the potion that slowly pushed out little puffs of black gas.
Isadora held each syringe up to the light as she measured the equality of the portions. The potion, after the metals were added, immediately heated. It was an orange-ish solution that gave off a golden shimmer. It was a lovely color, much more encouraging than the earlier army green color.
"Alright," said Isadora. "Since the potion isn't cold, it's lukewarm; there shouldn't be too much discomfort with injecting it. Harry, are you ready?"
"What?" asked Harry. "I thought you lot were going to do it."
"We are," she said. "We need you to inject them. I've marked our arms at the exact place for you to put the needle. It's very easy." She handed him her syringe and offered him her arm.
Harry, a little cautious, took the offered syringe. He held it in his hand for a few moments, but then quickly and deftly injected the solution. After withdrawing the needle, he exhaled, seeming relieved to have it over.
"How does it feel?" asked Hermione.
"Like someone punched me really hard in the arm," she said. "Hurry, Harry. The book said the transformation should take place within thirty minutes. For all I know, it could take five. Do the rest of them."
Similarly to Isadora's, Harry injected the liquid into Hermione and Draco's arms. The two grimaced and, afterwards, sat down, rubbing their arms.
Suddenly, a commotion was heard from outside the tent. "Oh no!" gasped Hermione. "It's almost eight o'clock! What do we do?"
Sure enough, a masked Death Eater entered the tent. "Ready, Potter?" he asked gruffly.
"No," answered Harry. He walked forward anyway, as slowly as he could, and threw one last pleading glance at the trio.
"What are we going to do?" said Hermione. "We're going to be too late! "
"We're going to have to think of anything that will make our heart beat faster," said Draco. "We're also not going to be able to follow the typical protocol of the Sphinx; ask a riddle first. We're just going to have to attack. We can..."
At this Draco, clutched his throat and slumped to the ground, unconscious. Hermione stared in horror, but soon after found herself slipping into darkness, with Isadora following behind.
Voldemort smiled his complacent smile as he saw Harry shuffling to him, lead by Roe.
"Well done, Roe," he said. "Did he put up a fight?"
"No, my Lord," Roe answered. "None of them did."
"Hmm..." said Voldemort. "That's odd. Usually Potter and his friends will always put up some form up a fight, even if it is very, very stupid. Did they—"
And before he could finish his statement, the sound of a roar echoed over the site. The two Dark men turned their eyes in its direction. Because of Harry's willingness to walk, neither man had put any form of restriction on him. He ran to the one tent where he could find help- the one of Ron, McGonagall, and Snape.
Fortunately, it was close. He burst inside, searching. McGonagall paced the room; Snape lied on the floor on his side. "Potter!" she said when he burst in.
"Professor!" he said. "It's working! The Aztec Sphinx! We did the potion and... Where's Ron?"
"Potter," she said softly as Snape rolled over and yawned. "You shouldn't be in here. There are things here you should not see now."
"No!" he shouted. "Where is he!"
The Sphinx stormed through the camp, destroying every evil thing in sight. She was a beauty to behold, but such a deadly beauty. Her face was much like that of Isadora's and Hermione's, but her eyes were the silver grey of Draco's. Her body was a sleek orange-gold, but tinted with green where her tail formed into the body and head of a snake.
Supplies, tents, food- nothing was left untouched. For the Death Eaters in her way, they met the fate of her claws or her teeth. Her bloodlust would not be satiated without the life of one man- Voldemort.
At last she came to him, and for the first time in many years, fear stood in the Dark Lord's eyes. Voldemort stood his ground, trying every spell that came to mind. Stunning and Imperious had no effect. Crucio harmed her, but was no more to her than a small cut.
But he smiled at the thought he had saved for last. "Avada Kedavra!" he shouted.
At the sound of those words, black flames leaped around the body of the great golden beast.
"No..." muttered Voldemort. "That's impossible." The great beast crouched down and he muttered his words of disbelief, ready to spring. She sprung upon him, crunching what was left of Tom M. Riddle- Lord Voldemort.
-2 months later-
The bodies of Isadora Malfoy and Ron Weasley were brought back to Hogwarts, where the castle was fully restored, with the of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, in a matter of weeks. A funeral was held for the two, and both were laid to rest in grand tombs next to Dumbledore. Harry knew he would never forget the sight of Mrs. Weasley sobbing on the arm of Mr. Weasley, as Ginny, who's mother had made her leave the fight (Mrs. Weasley, a member of the Order, had the power to do this) to go to a boarding school in America, looked strongly on, a single tear trailing down her face.
Draco did not talk for a few days after the battle. He merely sat in the small tent where Isadora's body had been laid. He held her hand, tears streaming down his face.
Harry and Hermione had kept the same countenance about Ron; however, they realized his sacrifice. Neither of them could have saved him. And Ron would have wanted it this way. They both remembered their first year together when Ron sacrificed himself on the chessboard.
It would take a long time, rebuilding of schools, rebuilding of the wizarding world, rebuilding of life, but it was now possible.
The wind was cold outside of Hogwarts, nipping at the skins of all who were outside. At this time, it was only two figures. Draco sat on the tomb of Isadora, tracing the engravings on it.
"Draco?"
He turned around and looked are Hermione. She stood there in the snow, waiting for him. She was bundled up in a red cloak, her nose, pink with the cold, matching the fabric.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"I just can't believe she's gone. She was always there in my life," he said.
"I know," she began. "But, like Ron, I know she would have wanted it this way. She would have rather died serving than sitting out, waiting to be killed. She's a hero."
"I know," he said. "But I know it is going to be a long time before I realize that."
"That's okay, but killing yourself out here, being out in the cold without a jacket, isn't going to help the situation. Come inside." Hermione offered her hand.
Draco clasped her gloved hand in his and walked with her back to the castle. "So do you know what you are going to do yet?" she asked. "Since Cordelia and Mithle are dead, the contract we had is void. We no longer have to be Veelas. We can live our lives."
"I don't really know just yet. All I know is that I'm staying here to re-do my seventh year. If another Voldemort crops up, I want to know everything I can. Maybe I'll go to another school after. Or teach. I don't know."
Hermione smiled at him. While the ending seemed to bitter, she knew the future could be bright ahead.
THE END
I know that is such a bittersweet ending, but I never promised a rose garden... A happy ending just didn't seem right for Sphinx. I hope you liked it anyway, and I want to thank every single one of that read and commented- it was you that truly kept me going and kept my confidence. Thank you!
As far as a sequel goes, that is a big maybe. After Half-Blood Prince, many of my ideas didn't correlate with the book, and when I write fan-fics, I like to try to correlate with all the books that are out (I couldn't in many instances with Sphinx because I began writing it before the 5th and 6th books). So eh, maybe. I'll think about it. Thank you all!
Dragonfires