Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related plot events and characters are the property of JK Rowling.
Summary: PostHogwarts. Harry must deal with the horrors of war, and in doing so he will embrace his heritage and leave a lasting legacy on the world.
A/N: Here is the second to last chapter; an epilogue will follow this. Please review!
----------
Chapter 27: Symphony of Frost and Flame
The gaunt, sallow face emerged from the swirling blackness, and Harry saw all that he needed to. He stared into those red eyes, with black slits for pupils, and watched as Voldemort's slitted, flat nostrils expanded with some unheard breath. The darkness around him lifted somewhat, and Harry saw the familiar weightless, black satiny robes flitting around him restlessly, as if Voldemort somehow escaped the driving wind he and his were engulfed in.
He was aware of the painful grip Hermione had on his arm, but he did nothing to prevent it. He merely stood there, next to his girlfriend, his daughter, and his mentor as the impossible approached them, bringing with it a violent swarm of darkness that would instill fear in the hearts of even the bravest witches or wizards.
As the wind buffeted his hair about his head, as rain fell in rivulets down his face, as he felt the huge magical presence of Voldemort approaching, he couldn't help but feeling like it was all a dream…a nightmare. Any minute now, he'd wake up, sweating, grasping the place on his forehead where his scar had been. Any minute now he'd sit up in bed, see Hermione next to him, smile, and go back to sleep. It was bound to happen.
Hermione's nails were now digging into his arm, and that was when he realized that it wasn't a nightmare. That should have woken him. He should have been safe in his bed, but…apparently it was real. This was really happening. Voldemort really was walking toward them, with a self-satisfied smirk on his ugly, serpentine face.
"Hermione, let go!" Harry yelled over the storm. She flinched as if she had been struck, almost like she had forgotten anything else existed except for the visage approaching them, and released his arm. She stepped back a few steps; Harry saw that she couldn't comprehend what was happening. Harry looked past her at Helen and Dumbledore, and saw they were just as perplexed, but they had assumed some kind of defensive stance. It didn't do to be unprepared, no matter how confused they were.
Harry focused for a moment, reaching deep within his magical foundation, and unblocked the dam. He felt the familiar nothingness, and when he was aware again, a slight yellow-orange haze surrounded him. He knew that it signified fear…anxiety…excitement… He could see vibrant red streaks intermittently flashing through it, and they signified some latent anger within him. There were two flashes of light—one red-orange and the other teal—and he knew that Dumbledore and Helen had ascended as well. He looked back to Voldemort, saw that he was still slowly approaching them, and raised his sword into the air.
"Animus!" he cried, and the crimson and gold flames leapt from the blade. They shone brilliantly in the driving rain, creating a prismatic effect among the descending drops.
"Fervens!"
"Omnipotens!" Helen and Dumbledore's swords joined Harry's in a brilliant blaze of color, and they turned to look at each other. Hermione had faded a few more steps back, and now stood shivering in the rain, watching the proceedings in shock and awe and fear. Her wet hair flapped madly about her face.
Harry, Helen, and Dumbledore eyed each other for a moment, and Harry was aware of some tacit communication that passed between them. He felt the solidarity of their will, the immense power of their strength, and the dying fear. If they stood together, surely they could overcome this new and unexpected threat. They turned as one to face the crimson-eyed man, seeing that he had stopped about 20 meters from them.
The rain and the wind continued without letting up, and the black aura surrounding Voldemort grew increasingly more violent as they stood there looking at each other. The ground between them was a bog of water and mud, and Harry saw the colors of their auras and swords reflected there. They were subdued, though, because the blackness was threatening to blot them out. He looked up into Voldemort's eyes.
"Potter." It came across the gulf between them easily, as if the weather wasn't affecting Voldemort at all. There was nothing but absolute loathing in his voice.
"How are you here, Tom?" yelled Dumbledore, switching defensive stances, showing a nimbleness that belied his age.
Harry saw Voldemort laugh, and again, the sound seemed to waft effortlessly to their ears.
"Your hero didn't complete the job," he said. Harry flinched as the full weight of the evil man's words penetrated his brain, and furrowed his brow in complete and utter confusion. He hadn't completed his job? He had destroyed all of the Horcruxes…he had faced and defeated Voldemort! He had done everything he'd been asked to, by Dumbledore, the Prophecy, and everyone who had been depending on him. He felt his anger simmer slightly, and he was aware of his aura turning a bit of a red shade.
"You can't be here!" Harry exclaimed, rather irrationally, but he couldn't help it. None of it made any sense.
"Can't I?" came the easy, cruel reply. There was a mocking tone in it, and Harry had to suppress a snarl of rage. Everything had been so peaceful, and now this was happening? It seemed as if he hadn't really ever escaped the horror of his previous life, and the vicissitude with which they were presenting themselves again was overwhelming…
"I…I destroyed you!" Harry said, faltering slightly. He looked over to Dumbledore, who was looking back at him with a curious, scrutinizing look beyond the ever-present shock in his eyes.
"Unfortunately, yes," Voldemort replied, drawing Harry's attention back to the tall man standing at the center of the dark energy. "But not all of me."
"What's he talking about?" Helen asked, so that only Harry and Dumbledore could hear her.
"Nagini," Dumbledore said, loudly. Harry furrowed his brows more—he had killed that bloody snake. What did she have to do with anything? Much to his surprise, however, Voldemort nodded with a cold smile gracing his lips.
"You always were quick, Dumbledore."
"What!" Harry interposed, growing more frustrated by the second. The rapidly shifting colors of his aura signified his turmoil. "We destroyed all of your Horcruxes!"
Voldemort crossed his arms, and that self-satisfied look descended over his revolting features once again. The black aura whirled restlessly around his dormant figure.
"Would I be here now if you did? Tell me, Potter, how am I standing here right now if you had done that?"
Harry had no answer, and that seemed to feed Voldemort's satisfaction; Harry was having a hard time controlling his anger, and his aura was slowly shifting to a red color.
"Careful, Harry…" Dumbledore warned. Voldemort must have heard him.
"I'd listen to your Headmaster, Potter. You could learn a few things from him…such as how to finish the job properly."
"I did!" Harry insisted, somewhat impetuously.
"If you thought I wasn't aware of your quest for the Horcruxes, you were sorely mistaken!" Voldemort said, and for the first time, Harry sensed some heat in his voice. The black aura swung up into the air for a moment, violently riding the trail of some air current, before falling back toward the earth.
Harry could tell that Helen was growing restless, as she was constantly shifting her weight from foot to foot, but there were things he had to know. He laid a hand over her arm to prevent her from doing anything rash.
"Why didn't you stop me then?"
"Because I believed myself to be more powerful," Voldemort replied, simply. There was a leering sneer in his eyes.
"But Tom…surely you were smart enough to know that even your best plans could fail," Dumbledore said. Harry noticed that there wasn't any of the fear left in his voice. He heard curiosity…and not much else.
"Which is why I protected one of the Horcruxes." Voldemort looked directly into Harry's eyes. "You didn't kill Nagini, Potter. She's dead now…but she served her purpose."
"How'd you get out of Azkaban?" Helen asked, acidly. Harry knew she was aware of Voldemort's supposed final resting place, but now here he was…
Voldemort smiled coldly. "The blame lies with the incompetent guards. I simply," he spread his arms out, "Apparated away." His gaze focused on Helen. Harry didn't like the way he was looking at her…
"And you must be Helen Potter…or Helen Davis, whichever. I've heard so much about you…"
Harry didn't like his tone. "You have nothing to say to her, Tom—"
"Oh, on the contrary, Harry," he said, smiling once again, but at Helen. "I have everything to say to her." If he had eyebrows, one of them probably would have raised. "Did you enjoy what my Death Eaters did to you?"
Suddenly, there was a brilliant flash of light, and then Harry saw, for an instant, a chartreuse streak of energy flying toward Voldemort. It looked like it was going to hit Voldemort directly in the face, but he seemed to pull his aura in around him, and the energy bounced off. Harry looked over to Helen and saw her aura had changed to a deep, broiling red, and that her chest was heaving. She had just attacked Voldemort.
"I don't see them now," she snarled. "Where are your precious followers?" There was hatred in her voice, and Harry knew that all the years of pent up rage and hurt from her ordeal was coming out.
Voldemort settled his aura slowly, and just remained smiling at their little group. He looked calmly from Dumbledore, to Helen, past Hermione, and finally to Harry. His scarlet eyes seemed to sparkle with some hidden malice…
"I don't need them."
"Of course you do, Tom. How can you spread your hatred and prejudices without them?" The question came from Dumbledore.
Voldemort laughed; it was a high, grating sort of thing. "It was never about prejudice, Dumbledore. You should have realized that by now."
For the first time, Hermione spoke. Her voice was trembling a bit, but Harry thought that had more to do with the cold drenching rain than fear.
"What was the point of the death and destruction then? Did it amuse you?"
"Ah…Miss Granger." Voldemort looked between the four of them again. "Forgive me, Potter, but excluding you, three of the supposedly smartest witches and wizards are standing here, and you cannot think for yourselves?"
Silence reigned, and the sound of the wind and the rain were the only things reaching Harry's ears.
"What was it about then, Tom?" Dumbledore asked.
Voldemort looked at the ground for a moment, and when he looked up, Harry's blood ran cold. There was a look of pure malevolence, as if Voldemort knew something they didn't.
"Power, Dumbledore. It was always about the power." He paused, and then looked directly at the Headmaster. "Did you think I would never find out?"
"Find out what, Tom?"
Voldemort laughed again, and his aura became slightly agitated. "Look around you. What is this?" he asked, indicating the blackness surrounding him.
"It's petty hatred, Tom."
Voldemort shook his head slowly. "No, Dumbledore; that is where you are mistaken. It's power. Pure power."
"What good is power if no one benefits from it?" The conversation seemed to have become a discourse between only Voldemort and Dumbledore.
"Why would I want anyone to benefit from something I've worked so hard to achieve? What do you think I've been doing for the last ten years?"
"Sounds just like you, Tom. Single-minded. You always were when it came to getting something you wanted."
The red eyes gleamed. "It works, doesn't it?"
Harry felt the ground vibrate, and he watched as Voldemort raised his arms to the sky. The black aura started pulsating and throbbing violently, and Voldemort brought his arms down abruptly. The blackness exploded out from him, and came rushing at the their group. Harry could feel the pull of the energy as it drew near, and didn't want to think about what would happen if it touched any of them.
He released his own power, knowing that Helen and Dumbledore were doing the same, and braced himself as the energies met. There was a startlingly loud noise when they did so, and they brutally came together. Harry immediately felt strain, and clenched his teeth against the power fighting against them. It was slowly drawing nearer, pushing their colored auras back, and snaking in through the gaps.
Helen's flashed bright and then faded, and she staggered back a step. The added strain from her collapse dropped onto Harry like a lead weight, and he almost lost. However, he looked over to Dumbledore, and they slowly moved together.
"He's…much more…powerful…" Harry ground out, and heard Dumbledore grunt his agreement. "Focus…on three…one…two…three!" He flared out as much power as he could, felt Dumbledore do the same. The black aura began to recede slightly, and then pulled back completely. The two colored auras flared out rapidly for a moment before Harry and Dumbledore regained control of their spiraling powers, and then subsided to their usual size.
"I'll ask you again, Dumbledore." Voldemort said, with that same cruel smile on his face. "Did you think I would never find out?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Tom," Dumbledore answered, tiredly. There was fatigue in his voice.
The slitted nostrils flared. "I'm talking about this!" he yelled, and pulled out his wand. He pointed it them, and Harry braced himself for another attack.
"Increpitas Inflecto Forma Veres!" For a moment, Harry couldn't comprehend what was happening, but it dawned upon him with piercing clarity when he saw the sword take form. It was a black katana. Voldemort was an heir of one of the Founders. He heard a sharp intake of breath from Dumbledore.
"Imperium!" Voldemort yelled, and sickly black flames shot forth from the blade. He twirled the blade deftly in one hand, eyed it for a moment, and looked back to them with that same gleam in his eyes.
"Lucifer's blade—I think you know what this means."
"All he wanted was power, Tom. Look where that got him," Dumbledore said. Harry could tell he was trying to ignore or overcome the shock Harry knew he felt from what he had just seen.
"You can only be what you're given," Voldemort replied easily. "He had very little magical strength, and he believed that he could change that. I, on the other hand, already possessed an immense power. All I needed to do was unlock it."
"And do what with it? Kill everyone…destroy everything? Some world that would be," Harry said. It was the first time he had spoken to Voldemort in a few minutes.
"Oh no, Potter…this is about vengeance. This is about settling old scores. You have eluded me far too many times. Today, you will not."
"You always were too arrogant for your own good," Hermione said. There was a look of contempt on her face.
"It's not arrogance, Granger. It's knowledge. You see…I know I'm the most powerful."
"No, Tom, you know nothing. You never have. You were always too blinded by your quest for power. It's clouded your mind from the truth—you're always second best. There always was someone who saw right through you," Dumbledore said.
"We shall see who knows what!" Voldemort yelled, and his aura expanded exponentially out from him. "I hope you've said your goodbyes," he said, "because you all die, now." He looked to Dumbledore. "And say farewell to your precious school. It will be nothing more than a heap of rubble when I'm finished with it."
Voldemort began to twirl the katana rapidly, and the blackness started to draw in toward his body. It became blacker and denser as it drew in, and soon Harry couldn't clearly make out Voldemort's figure. An eerie, wicked laugh reached his ears, causing the hair on the nape of his neck to stand up, and the blackness came rocketing toward them once again.
It was much denser this time, and Harry could feel that it was much more powerful. They had had enough trouble stopping the last one…
"Helen, get up here!" he cried, and clawed within himself for the last bits of power he could muster. He sent it toward the approaching black wave as Dumbledore and Helen did the same, and he was visibly slid back a few inches in the mud when they met. He worked to maintain the steady outflow of power from his core, raising his sword to act as a focal point for the energies bursting forth from him.
"It's futile to resist!" he heard. His vision was clouding from the strain, though, and he couldn't see where Voldemort was. All of his concentration was on keeping the ugly orb of malignant energy at bay.
Suddenly, there was a bloodcurdling scream, and he tilted his head to the side just in time to see Helen rocketed backward, straight into Hermione. They hit with a sickening force, and landed back upon the ground, unmoving. Harry barely had time to think about this, though, because he and Dumbledore were forced to pick up the slack. They were now compensating for the loss of Helen.
The blackness was rushing around them unchecked now, and only small bits of their colored auras remained. Harry could almost feel it sucking his very magic from within him, and he instinctually wanted to get as far from it as possible. He and Dumbledore were slowly drawn together, back to back, in order to brace themselves against the onslaught.
"What do we do now!" Harry yelled over the roar of the wind, the rain, and the magical currents flying around them.
"We just have to hold on!" Dumbledore replied, and Harry felt him surge his magic. He tried the same, but he was growing weary quickly. Voldemort, somehow, had just become too powerful.
Dumbledore must have realized that as well. "Harry," he gasped. "I don't know how much longer we can hold out."
Harry watched as a dark tendril passed within a few inches of his arm, and felt the flesh there grow cold as if the very life was being pulled from it.
"We have to think of something!" Harry cried, desperately. Is this how it was all supposed to end? Killed at the hand of madman he'd thought he'd finished twelve years before? There had been so much peace, and now this…
"There…there is one thing…" Dumbledore said, breathing heavily in exertion.
"What?" Harry asked. Their backs were now pressed against each other. Harry glanced over at where Helen and Hermione lay, still unmoving. He couldn't…he wouldn't think about that right now.
"One spell," the old man gasped, leaning on Harry now, "that I never taught you…might help us…"
Harry grimaced as another particular strong surge rushed around them, and fortified his magic as much as he could. He was wearing out though…he could feel it. If this didn't let up soon, he would be finished.
"Well, what is it?" Harry queried, impatiently.
"It's…I would sacrifice myself—"
"—WHAT?—"
"—give you my power…"
"You can't, Albus!"
"WHAT OTHER CHOICE DO WE HAVE?" Dumbledore yelled, his voice regaining some of its strength.
"I…" Harry faltered. "I could…I could do it!" he yelled.
"Harry—" Dumbledore started, but then was cut off by a grunt. He had to brace himself further against the wall of magical power they were fighting.
"You have much left to live for, Harry…I'm an old man!"
"But…" Harry trailed off. They were losing the battle of wills; it would only be a few more minutes before they were overtaken by Voldemort's power.
"No buts—"
"No, Albus, you can't!"
"Why not? I have lived my life out. I have no regrets…you, on the other hand, have much left to do, and there are many more people waiting for you than me."
"Albus…!" Harry tried, but failed to articulate anything.
"This is my choice, Harry! That's what I've been trying to tell you for so long now! It's my choice. It's my eternal right!" Dumbledore shouted.
"I just…"
"And then it's your right to use the power I give you. Use it to finish him once and for all! Wipe him from the face of the earth!" Albus demanded. Harry felt Dumbledore turn against his back. "Face me, Harry!" Harry did so, struggling mightily. "Cross your sword with mine!" Dumbledore held out Omnipotens, with the flat of its blade facing toward the sky, and Harry reluctantly placed Animus across it. The platinum, crimson, and gold flames licked angrily against each other and the blades vibrated slightly with the close contact. Harry looked up, directly into the piercing blue eyes of his mentor.
"Keep Hogwarts safe, Harry." Dumbledore closed his eyes, and a serene look passed over his features. He tilted his head slightly back.
"FORTUNA IMPERATRIX MUNDI!" he yelled, and Harry was lost in a swirling world of excruciatingly bright colors.
----------
Helen came to with the sound of the rain, the wind, and some unknown rushing noise assaulting her ears. She was aware of some soft form below her, and rolled off of it. The movement jarred some injury in her arm, and she groaned as pain exploded through her nerves. She looked up and saw that it was Hermione she had been on, and that her face was pale and sweating.
She looked around and almost recoiled at what she saw next: her father and Dumbledore were being swallowed by a black vortex; their auras were slowly shrinking against the vile force whipping against them. She couldn't see Voldemort, but knew he was the one causing it, and tried to stand. She looked to her arm and saw that it was grotesquely twisted, and as more pain shot through her being, she almost fainted. She brought her eyes back up to the scene before her, and could see that Dumbledore and her father were now facing each other.
Dumbledore laid his blade out between them, and Harry laid his across it. She was aware of a palpable sense of coming together, or building up, or some such feeling, and then Dumbledore's voice carried itself to her.
"FORTUNA IMPERATRIX MUNDI!" he yelled, and she squinted against the bright corona of light that erupted from the blades between the two men. It grew so bright that she knew nothing else, and her world was filled with the swirling colors for a few moments. The light reached a crescendo of luminosity, and then began to fade—actually, it began to shrink. The light stayed as bright as it had been, but it was coming down and moving to one side. She shaded her eyes to see…
Her father was there, wind whipping his robes around his body, with a bright blue halo of light surrounding him, but she didn't see Dumbledore. Where was he? He had been standing right there…but then her eyes were drawn to the ground, and she had to force the bile that rose in her throat back.
The world's most venerable, revered, and trusted wizard lay on the ground, eyes wide in a lifeless gaze; his sword had fallen out of his hand so that his wand lay next to him. Helen could tell immediately that Albus Dumbledore had left this world for the next. He was on his next great adventure.
----------
Harry felt renewed energy and vigor flood his being, and the intense light around shifted somewhat, taking on a blue color. It subsided somewhat, and he could no longer see Dumbledore. The Headmaster…was lying on the ground. Harry looked into those inert eyes, and silently thanked the man with his entire being for the biggest sacrifice one could make. He could feel Dumbledore's power flooding his veins, mixing with his own, making him stronger. It wasn't a completely alien sensation—it felt exactly like the old man's magical signature had felt.
It was changing, though…he felt his power and Dumbledore's mixing, creating a completely new force. He could literally feel the new energy molding to his core, and with a deep breath, he turned and faced directly into the black mass that was still swirling about.
Now, however, it didn't seem quite as daunting, he reached within and pushed against it with his newfound power. The auras fought one another for a moment—a living image of the battle of wills currently raging between Voldemort and Harry. After a few seconds, the blackness abruptly receded, and Voldemort came into view once again, standing about 15 meters from Harry. His cruel red eyes flicked to Dumbledore's body, motionless on the ground.
"Pity," he hissed. "Noble, truly, but futile nonetheless."
"You don't know the meaning of noble," Harry said, and his voice was full of the electricity currently flowing through him. He hated this man standing in front of him with every part of his being, but he wasn't letting that control him. He was mostly in awe of what Dumbledore had done—the man was so selfless.
"Here we are again, Potter."
"Indeed, Tom."
"This time…I will destroy you."
"Hardly," Harry responded, and began to pull from his magical core all of his energy. It was all or nothing now, and he had to find every last bit of power within. Voldemort must have sensed Harry doing that, because Harry could feel him doing the same thing. The air began to tingle and spark around both of them as more and more of the power reached the surface and flooded into their auras, and soon the black aura was butting up against the blue one. The fifteen meters between them were a galvanized area of ozone and magic.
Once Harry had grasped all that he could, when there was nothing more he could give, he faced Voldemort fully. He ignored the singing air around him, the wind, and the rain, and focused on the hateful being. This was it. This is where it would finally end. There would be no tomorrow for any of them if he failed. It was his duty before, and it was his now.
He tested the waters, pushing against Voldemort's power with his own, and he felt Voldemort push back. The auras snapped and popped where they met, and they streaked into each other, only to be expelled much more violently into the surrounding air. Harry backed off, having realized that they were almost evenly matched now, and raised his sword.
Voldemort did as well, and the red eyes were burning with hatred. He twirled the katana in a hand and set himself. Harry drew Animus across the front of him in a slow arc, ending with it pointing directly at Voldemort.
They stood like that for a moment, locked onto each other's gaze. Lightning—real lightning—cracked open the heavens, and the thunder that followed was deafening. The rain started in even harder, but Harry ignored the droplets pounding his skin. Everything that he knew, all that he was aware of, was focused on Voldemort.
They both struck at the same time. Harry micro-Apparated toward Voldemort, and he copied the action. They met in the middle, with a violent clanging of metal upon metal, and blue bit into black as their auras coalesced. Harry pressed with all of his strength against Voldemort's blade, baring his teeth at the ugly, sniveling face less than a foot away, and Voldemort's eyes burned crimson rage at being held at bay. Power exploded from the katana, and Harry was forced to leap and flip backward to avoid whatever malevolent spell Voldemort had tried. He ducked as soon as he landed, felt the wind of the katana slicing over his head, and drove his sword back behind him. He felt more than he heard Voldemort Apparate a short distance away, and turned around quickly.
"Reducto Magno!" Harry yelled, and held his sword up as staccato bursts of the curse flew from it at an extremely high speed. He swept his sword around in a semicircle, peppering Voldemort with them. He knew that Voldemort had put up a shield, but he kept the curses up. Sooner or later the shield would fall…
And it did, but Voldemort was too fast for Harry. He Apparated away and yelled, "Avada Kedavra Magna!"
"Animis Protega!" Harry returned, and a pure white nimbus filtered down around him. Each time a sickly green Killing Curse hit, it flashed a brighter white, and Harry just stood calmly as they struck it. They let up after a moment, and he saw confusion etched on the face of Voldemort, but it was only a passing gesture.
They came together, their swords flashing in the light of Harry's aura, and parried each other blow for blow. The katana was longer, but Harry was faster, and they two men were dueling evenly. Harry ground his teeth and struck against Voldemort successively three times, adding in sharp bursts of energy with each one, and drove him back a few steps. Voldemort ducked the fourth, however, and responded in turn to Harry; he was now on the defensive, and he had to retreat a few steps under the physical and magical assault.
He cast a curse from his hand after five blows, which was more of a burst of energy than any one spell, and he and Voldemort separated. They stood staring at each other for a moment, chests heaving; Harry was then aware of someone coming and standing beside him. It was his daughter. Even under this monumental evil, after she had been knocked unconscious, here she was again, ready to stand and fight with her life against tyranny and oppression.
"Isn't this nice?" Voldemort asked, rhetorically. "Now I'll get to kill father and daughter, and they'll get to watch each other go." Helen smiled wanly at Voldemort; one arm hung limply at her side, but the other was fine, and she twirled Fervens rapidly in that hand.
"The only thing you'll be doing today is dying," she said, very coldly. The smile had evaporated in an icy chill of anger, and Harry nodded. She spoke the truth.
Through some form of silent communication, they both leapt forward at the same time, and Harry watched satisfactorily as Voldemort had to take a few steps back under the dual blows. He was still parrying them all successfully, but barely. He crosscut violently with the katana, and Harry had to step back to avoid its razor edge. That was all Voldemort needed, and he pushed all of his magical energy toward Helen. She was woefully unprepared for the sudden onslaught of the wicked mass, and was thrown back several paces. Harry watched, almost in slow motion, as she fell toward the earth like a rag doll, and landed with nauseating crunch on one of her legs. Her sword flew away from her grasp, reverting to her wand, and she lay still.
Harry desperately wanted to see if she was ok—the image of her lying there reminded him of Hermione as well—but he couldn't. Voldemort had turned back toward him with a cruel, sadistic smile on his face, and pushed his full power out once again. Harry coiled his muscles, and just as the black cloud reached him, he released his own full power. He walked forward slowly, parting the sea of Voldemort's power down the middle as he did so, until he was within a few feet of the man.
"You know how this is going to end!" Harry yelled.
"With…your…DEATH!" Voldemort screamed, the veins and tendons standing out in his neck, and he leapt forward. Harry brought Animus up to parry the blow, but Voldemort changed course at the last second. Harry barely had enough time to sidestep, and even so, he felt a sharp pain in his right leg. The successful blow seemed to have renewed Voldemort's sense of purpose, and he came at Harry with new speed and energy. Harry was slowly pushed back toward the castle by the combination of magical and physical blows, and it was all he could do to avoid the lethal ones.
His eyes fell briefly on Helen's still body, and when he ducked another blow, he saw Hermione, still lying where he had seen her fall. As he rolled out of the way of a particularly insidious curse, Dumbledore's prone form filled his vision.
It was…it was up to him now. Everyone that he had loved had suffered or been killed by Voldemort…and here he was…being pushed back. No…he wouldn't die or let anyone else be killed at the hands of this lunatic. Voldemort was nothing more than psycho with a lot of toys, and he knew he could beat him. He would do it for his daughter, his girlfriend, and his mentor, who had just sacrificed his life so the world he'd fought for, for so long, could go on.
Voldemort was not going to take that away. Harry gritted his teeth, blocked a blow, and leapt at Voldemort. Just before he reached the man, he micro-Apparated behind him, and swung the sharp blade at the side of his head. Voldemort anticipated it, though, and brought the katana up in the nick of time.
In a moment of inspiration, Harry silently cast the summoning spell on Voldemort's sword, and watched as it was wrenched from the man's grip. Voldemort responded almost instantaneously with his own summoning charm, and the sword hung suspended for a moment, glistening in the light of Harry's aura and dripping with the rain coming down all around them. It started vibrating under the strain of the two spells; Harry could actually hear a ringing noise in the air. Voldemort turned around fully, reached for the sword, and was hurled back by the rivaling power of the spells. Voldemort's sword sailed into Harry's hand.
It reverted to Voldemort's wand, and Harry placed the tip of Animus against it. "Incendio," he hissed, eyes boring into Voldemort's. Voldemort watched with widening eyes as the wand burst into flame, flaring bright for a moment, and then puffing out as a pile of ash on the muddy ground.
Harry didn't give Voldemort time to think, and leapt at him while twirling his blade. With nothing to block it, Voldemort stood there, gape mouthed. He Apparated a short distance away, and Harry followed; he kept doing it though, trying to escape the whirlwind of death.
Harry focused on the magic around them, and discovered that he could tell where Voldemort was Apparating to just before he did it. There was a telltale spike of magic in that region, and Harry waited for him to do it again. When he did…Harry Apparated as well, and drove the sword forward with all his strength as Voldemort appeared.
There was a look of complete shock and disbelief on Voldemort's face for a moment, and then a rivulet of blood ran from his mouth. Harry pulled the sword from within the man's chest, stepped back, and watched as he fell face first into a muddy puddle. The blackness around Harry immediately started to fade, and Harry turned his face toward the sky. The rain was letting up…and the clouds were shrinking away. As he turned in a full circle, a ray of sunlight illuminated the ground a few feet away…
He became aware of a shuffling beside him, and saw Helen bravely working her way toward him. She had tears of joy and pain running down her face.
"Oh Dad…" she gasped, and he dropped his sword. He ran to her and embraced her lightly, so as to not disturb her injuries.
"We…did it," he said, and he felt his eyes burning at some searing emotion. It was love…triumph…loss…all rolled into one.
"But Albus…" she said, and grew silent. Harry watched the tears slide down her cheek.
"I know…" he said, but was suddenly reminded of Hermione. He turned, trying to get a glimpse of her—she still had not moved.
"No," he choked out. "No," he repeated, and Apparated both him and Helen over to her.
Helen knelt down carefully, trying not to jar her broken bones, and examined her closely. She felt for a pulse on Hermione's neck; Harry could do nothing but stand by and watch as a helpless feeling overtook him.
"She's…barely…alive. I can feel her pulse fading," she said, and looked up into Harry's face. Harry raised his eyes to the heavens as a sob broke from him. What did he do to deserve this? Why must everything in his life be taken away from him? Could he not live a normal life? Was it possible for him to not lose everything and everyone that mattered to him?
"WHY?" he screamed into the air. He dropped to his knees, and the injustice penetrated his very soul. He had sacrificed so much for the good of others…was it too much to ask for to have his life back? He clenched his eyes closed as a wave of some intense feeling passed through him, and it came to rest on his forehead, where his scar had been.
"Dad…?" Helen asked, hesitantly. Harry barely heard her, however, because something was happening inside him. Something was changing his power, making it crisper, sharper, and easier to feel. It felt like it was expanding…
He opened his eyes as the feeling continued to grow, and grasped Hermione into his arms. Her head lolled slightly to the side, and he could just barely feel the rise and fall of her chest.
"I will not let this happen. Not again," Harry asserted, and he became aware of the fact that the day seemed to be growing brighter around him. He looked down—that shocked him; he had to look down toward the ground—into Helen's eyes, and saw that she was watching him with awe. He raised his eyes again, and there was a whiteness that appeared to be filtering into his vision. The feeling grew more and more intense, crisper and crisper, and he raised his eyes to the heavens. He gripped Hermione tightly, closed his eyelids, and released the power. He saw, from behind his eyelids, a brilliant white flare, as bright as the sun.
----------
Hermione had to cough. It was an unbelievable urge, and one that she had to comply with…except, she couldn't. She wanted to, and she had to, but she couldn't force the air from her lungs. Her brain slowly made the connection that…well, that there was no air in her lungs. She had to breath in order to cough. So, with a great, gasping, shuddering breath, she drew a lungful of air, and then coughed it violently back out.
The second thing she noticed was that everything seemed to be white, even though she knew her eyes were closed. She coughed a few more times, trying to clear her lungs of something that wasn't there, and cracked her eyelids open, adjusting slowly the blinding whiteness facing her.
She next became aware of the strong grip someone…or something…had on her, but it wasn't unpleasant. It felt like…Harry. That's whom it felt like. As her eyes adjusted, she confirmed her expectation, because she was indeed staring into Harry's careworn face.
Something was odd, though. Everything was white. It was disconcerting. It was almost as if she had left the world she'd known and entered some ethereal plane, where everything was engulfed by a blinding, almost angelic whiteness.
"Harry…" she croaked out, and then wet her lips with her tongue. She tried again. "Harry, where are we?"
"Hogwarts," he replied, and his voice sounded like music in her ears. Her eyes welled up with a tender emotion that had no name in this language or any other, and he leaned down and captured her lips in his. She responded hungrily, glad that everything had turned out all right…
She leaned back. "Where's Helen? And Dumbledore? And why is everything white?"
"Whoa…one question at a time," Harry said, and Hermione detected a note of sadness in his voice.
"Helen is right over there," he pointed, and Hermione looked to her right. Helen smiled wanly at her—she was holding her arm, which was at an odd angle, and favoring one of her legs heavily. She was pretty battered, but at least she was all right.
"Dumbledore…he's dead, Hermione," Harry said, quietly. She sat up quickly, looking into Harry's eyes with shock.
"What…?"
"He sacrificed himself for us; he gave me his power."
"And it worked?" she asked, hesitantly.
Harry nodded. "Yes—we have him to thank for this. He was so selfless…" he trailed off.
Hermione sat up all the way, and Harry loosened his grip on her. She ached all over, but it felt good to alive. There was no greater joy in the world than feeling life fill her veins. She squinted against the white glare.
It came into perspective then, however, and she saw that it was emanating from Harry. His aura was white…
"Harry! The white aura!" she breathed, and he nodded.
"And you know what did it?"
She shook her head. "No, what?"
"You, and Helen. My love for both of you did it."
Hermione smiled. "I never had any doubt, Harry…"
Harry stood and pulled her to her feet. They slowly walked over to the body of Dumbledore, which at some point Harry must have covered with his cloak. Helen hobbled over to them, and leaned against Harry.
"I'm glad I chose to go the Orphanage that night, Helen. I wouldn't have you here now if I hadn't. And I'm glad you chose to come back, Hermione, just as I'm glad that I chose to accept you back into my life." He put his arms around their shoulders, and turned his face toward the recently bared sun.
"I'm glad we're all here, together."
"Me too," Hermione and Helen said at the same time. Hermione looked over to Helen and smiled.
"Me too," Hermione repeated, softly.
