A/N: A HUGE thanks to my new, wonderful beta, Dynamite!
Chapter Seventeen
The Defeat of Voldemort
Dumbledore stood at the far back edge of the mass of people who were in the midst of battle. His lips were curled down in a grim frown and the twinkle had left his eyes. When Ronald Weasley had popped up at Voldemort's side, Dumbledore knew exactly what was going on. He was frightened of what was to happen, and even scared to say it to anyone else. He hoped that he was wrong, and that maybe no one else had noticed it.
But he was horribly mistaken. The Weasleys all stood in shock as they stared at Ron, who was smirking at the crowd, his blue eyes twinkling menacingly. The war continued around them, but for the Weasleys, time stood still.
How could Molly's precious baby boy be standing there by the side of the man who had killed hundreds of thousands of wizards and still seemed to be proud of it? Molly just couldn't understand it. She felt as though she was going to faint. This was even worse than the time the bogart had impersonated Ron being dead; Ron might as well have been dead so much as she was concerned. But where had she gone wrong? Why had Ron turned to this?
This was something that Molly might have expected Percy to do, but not Ron. Not the boy who had fought long and hard against Voldemort alongside Harry, who was just as much of a son to her as Ron himself, had been. That seemed like ages ago, now.
Molly couldn't help but blame herself; after all, they had never been exactly rich. But Molly had laved her family with love; how could it end up like this? Ronald had never gotten everything that he wanted, never anything new or anything that he thought he deserved, but Molly thought he had been satisfied. His best friend was the Boy-Who-Lived, for Merlin's sake! How many people could advertise themselves as such?
Apparently, Molly had been mistaken. She didn't want to fight against her youngest son, especially when all the rest of her sons and her daughter and husband would have to fight against him as well; what had led him to this path, exactly?
Molly's gaze narrowed at the leering figure of Tom Riddle. She pursed her lips and fought hard to control the rage that was building deep inside of her and threatening to pour over. She knew that it was Harry's job to kill off this evil creature in the long run, but how could the horrible man have done this to so many? Molly had found herself wondering this many times in the past. She was tired of wondering.
The man may have lead a bad life before he came to Hogwarts, but that didn't mean that all muggles were as bad as the ones that he had grown up with. Harry had had a bad home life as well, but he hadn't turned out to be a mass murderer.
Molly's face fell when she realized what was about to happen; Harry would be charged with the murder of Voldemort after everything was all done and over with. She knew how the wizard judicial system worked. It couldn't turn out good for Harry, especially with Scrimgeour as Minister of Magic, who disliked Harry even more than Fudge had.
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Dumbledore stood at Harry's side and glared at Voldemort angrily. "Using the rose as a Horcrux," Dumbledore said, his voice icy and the normally constant twinkle in his eyes nowhere to be found. "Very clever indeed, Tom."
Voldemort sneered and Harry looked over at Dumbledore in amazement. "When did you get here?" he asked in confusion.
Dumbledore shook his head and continued to stare Voldemort directly in the eye. Harry got to his feet and brushed his knees off, being sure to watch Voldemort in case of any unexpected curse flinging.
"I expect," Dumbledore continued, ignoring Harry completely now. "That some of the properties of the rose have exchanged into you now. Am I correct?"
Voldemort sneered, though it was obvious that he was slightly afraid of Dumbledore. "You would be, Dumbledore. But you cannot vanquish me now. It is I that shall be doing the vanquishing here, tonight." His eyes flashed in Harry's direction and a smirk curled the corners of his lips up. "The only person I see out of the three of us getting out of here tonight would be myself," he said, his eyes sparkling menacingly.
"Exactly what properties have you inherited?" Harry asked, his eyes moving from Voldemort to Dumbledore and back again.
Voldemort licked his lips and sneered. "Immortality," he said in a silky near-whisper.
"No," Dumbledore corrected. "Near immortality,"
Voldemort hissed and lunged at Dumbledore. "I am immortal!" He cried out as he knocked Dumbledore to the ground and stood over him, his eyes flaming in anger.
"Harry," Hermione cried out. "Slate Smoke! We need slate smoke!"
"Slate smoke?" Harry asked as he desperately watched Voldemort begin to cast a spell on Dumbledore that was surely an unforgivable.
"Yes! Think about it, Harry. If he's inherited some of the good traits from the rose, he's had to inherit some of the bad traits as well!"
"But slate smoke's only created by-"
"Grandir, Orphius Mortalicus!" Harry looked over to Hermione to see that she was pointing her wand at the ground and an odd-looking blue-tinged plant growing out of the ground at a quick rate. Hermione nodded grimly at him, then pointed her wand at the plant. With a deep breath, she whispered, "Agrandir,"
Immediately, the plant began smoking. The smoke was thick and dark, and it smelled disgusting.
"Harry," Hermione croaked, her eyes watering slightly. "It's not going to be enough. The fumes are toxic. We may all die right now. I'll evacuate the premises, you do what you have to do while he's still weak!"
Harry looked at Hermione, then he looked at Voldemort, who was still muttering a curse under his breath as he held his palm directly above Dumbledore.
With a determined nod, Harry muttered, "Accio, Dumbledore!" When Dumbledore's body shot toward him, he moved aside and Dumbledore landed on the ground with a great thump. Harry's eyes narrowed at Voldemort and he stepped closer.
Faintly, Harry could hear Hermione muttering the sonorous charm, but he ignored completely what she was saying to the crowd that had stopped fighting and was now fleeing.
Voldemort, of course, was quite enraged at the fact that Harry had had the nerve to take Dumbledore away right under his nose. He glared at Harry, his eyes slits. Then, he smelled the rancid scent of the slate smoke. He sneered at Harry as he stepped forward and grasped his chin.
"Is this the best that you can do, boy?" he hissed, his eyes gleaming. "What is that rancid smell, anyway? Is it supposed to cast away my followers? It seems that it has yours."
Harry smirked. He had the upper hand, this time. "No, actually. But good guess."
"Explain yourself, boy!" Voldemort roared, unused to the kind of disrespect that Harry was currently showing him.
"It's slate smoke, actually," Harry grinned, his emerald eyes flashing gray. "It kills the Everafter rose,"
Voldemort's eyes widened, and Harry grinned. "You didn't! You wouldn't risk your own life and that of your followers! You couldn't!" But his eyes shone with doubt of the words that were spilling from his mouth.
"My followers," Harry said through gritted teeth. "Are smart enough to know when it's over. And believe me when I say that they are quite protected." With that, Harry raised his wand. He could see Voldemort weakening; losing the power that had been restored to him, almost as quickly as he had regained it. Now was the time for him to strike.
The only problem was that it was getting harder for him to breathe, and his eyesight was becoming blurry.
"Fool!" Voldemort choked out as he fell to his knees. "You may kill me, but at what cost to yourself? You will die here tonight, I swear it!"
Harry choked on the smoke that was quickly invading his lungs. His vision finally became non-existent as his eyes closed of their own accord to stop the smoke from getting into them and hindering his vision for the rest of his life. Faintly, Harry could hear a voice somewhere in the background. "The bubble-head charm, Harry! Use the bubble-head charm!"
"Bubble-head?" Harry asked, but the words came out in a jumbled mess that no one would ever be able to decipher. "Of course!" with that, Harry forced himself to use the last of his strength to raise his wand up and flick it at his head, the bubble appearing quite suddenly around his head and allowing him to breath in the dense, fog-like smoke.
Harry could see the shapes of two bodies. One was Voldemort's, kneeling on the ground and choking on the smoke, struggling for his life. Harry couldn't be sure of who the other person was, but right now it wasn't important.
He nodded gravely and raised his wand one final time. He was hesitant to use the curse that he knew he had to use, but if he didn't use it fast, there was no telling what may happen, so he inhaled deeply, held his breath, and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"
"Harry, no!"
But it was too late. The bright green light was blindingly intense. Voldemort made one attempt to raise himself up and protect himself with his arms, but he was too slow under the affect of the killing curse. His lifeless body dropped limply down to the bloodstained ground and Harry stood over him triumphantly, looking down at him. Just to make sure he was dead, Harry summoned a long silver dagger and knelt down next to the limp body of the former Lord Voldemort.
Swiftly, he drew the knife back and stabbed Voldemort repeatedly in the back with the dagger.
As the foggy smoke began to fade, Harry could see the lifeless forms of bodies of witches and wizards that had fallen in the final battle. He bowed his head as he thought of all the people who had died for the cause, for his cause. It was his fault. Some of the bodies hadn't fallen because of curses shot their way; rather, they had fallen because they were too slow to get away from the foggy slate smoke; they had gotten caught in something that they hadn't had to get caught in. If only Harry had warned them, if only he had…
"Harry, why!" Harry heard someone screech. He jerked his head up and his emerald eyes met with a pair of molten silver, which were overflowing with tears. "Why did you use that curse? Anything else would have had a similar affect, especially with Voldemort being as weak as he is. Why that one? You know that you're going to get in trouble with the Ministry now, don't you? You can't leave me, Harry! You just can't! I don't want you to be put in Azkaban!"
Harry's shoulders slumped in defeat as Draco rushed towards him from the bushes that he had been hiding in with the rest of the people that had managed to escape the slate smoke. "Why?" Draco asked as he stumbled to Harry and fell to his knees in front of him. Draco cradled his head in Harry's lap and began sobbing. "You can't leave me! Please, don't leave me!"
Harry closed his eyes and ran his fingers through Draco's silky hair. He sighed and dropped his chin to his chest as the bubblehead charm began to wear off.
A tall shadow fell over Harry and he glanced up to meet twinkling blue eyes. Dumbledore smiled mysteriously at him and nodded. "I believe, Mr. Malfoy," he began, "That Mr. Potter here knew what he was doing when he did it. And I can assure you," Dumbledore placed a consoling hand on Draco's shoulder as he spoke. "That Mr. Potter will not go to Azkaban as far as I'm concerned."
Draco lifted his tear-streaked face and glared at Dumbledore. "You can't assure that!" He cried, burying his face in Harry's lap once again. The tears had stopped, but Draco still took comfort in being close to Harry, and refused to get up even though Harry was insistently nudging him in the ribs.
Dumbledore shook his head and extended a hand to Harry. "Mr. Potter," He said. "I must compliment you on your courageousness."
"Courageousness!" Draco snorted. "He nearly got himself killed because of his stupidity. It wasn't courageousness, I can assure you that!"
Dumbledore ignored Draco's interjections and shook Harry's hand. "You have officially vanquished the Dark Lord Voldemort."
Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "It wasn't just me," He admitted, his eyes still closed. "Hermione helped. She was the one who summoned the Orphius Mortalicus. And she was the one who told me to use the bubble-head charm."
Dumbledore's eyes lost some of their twinkle, and he looked across the pitch where a lump of a body, with a bunch of red frizz at the top lay. "I'm afraid, Harry," Dumbledore corrected, "That it indeed was not Miss Granger that told you about the bubble-head charm, but instead, Molly Weasley."
Harry's mouth dropped open and he looked to where Dumbledore's eyes had trailed. "No!" Harry shouted. "She's not dead, is she? She can't be!"
Dumbledore averted his eyes and Harry could see a single tear flowing out of his eye and trailing down his weathered cheek. Harry's eyes widened and he lunged out from under Draco's body and towards the prone form of Mrs. Weasley. "No! Mrs. Weasley, please get up! You can't be dead! Please, don't be dead!"
Draco watched as Harry drew his wand and cast the 'enervate' charm over and over again without avail. "Please, Mrs. Weasley," Harry sobbed finally, after multiple attempts of the 'enervate' charm. He buried his face in Molly's bosom and sobbed his heart out. "Don't be dead! Please! Get up! You're not dead! You're not dead…"
Finally, Harry's pleading trailed out and he was left sobbing next to Mrs. Weasley's body. Draco finally had to go and pry Harry's sobbing body from that of Mrs. Weasley's. "Harry, there's nothing we can do now. She knew the risks; she put herself in danger for you. She loved you, Harry. She wouldn't have done that if she didn't."
Apparently, Draco hadn't said the right thing, as Harry burst into a fresh set of tears. "Leave me alone!" Harry begged as he threw himself back at Molly's body. "She was the only semblance of a family that I had left, and now she's gone! Please don't leave me, Molly! Please!" Harry reverted back to his begging, even though it got him nowhere.
"Harry," Harry could feel the hand of Dumbledore on his own shoulder this time, and he angrily threw it off.
"Don't touch me," He snarled as he stood on shaky legs. "Don't you dare touch me!"
With that, he scrambled into the Forbidden Forest, Draco and Dumbledore watching after him.
"We've got to go after him!" Draco cried out as he took a step to follow Harry.
Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder restrained him. "No," he said. "He needs to do this alone."
"But there are still Death Eaters out there!" Draco protested.
Dumbledore looked at him, his blue eyes knowing and still twinkling even after everything that had happened. "I know, Mr. Malfoy. But Harry has now defeated the Darkest Wizard of all time. Do you truly think that he cannot handle a few Death Eaters?"
"Not if he's attacked from behind, he can't!" Draco cried, wrenching Dumbledore's hand from his shoulder and racing away from him as fast as he could. "Harry, come back here! There are still Death Eaters out here!"
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Lucius Malfoy watched his son run into the forest angrily. How dare that little bastard fight on Potter's side! How dare that little faggot fall in love with Potter! How dare that little…ungrateful…ungrateful…imp! Yes, how dare that ungrateful imp…just…how dare he!
Lucius was too angry to form words, let alone think them. His bastard son had betrayed him and his master, and Lucius was going to teach his son…no, Draco was no longer a Malfoy. Malfoys did not betray the trust of their masters. Draco…was going to be taught to never mess with the Malfoy name.
Lucius wasn't going to kill Draco. No, that would be getting him off easy. He needed to learn his lesson. And what a lesson it would be…
Lucius stepped into the bushes and slowly followed his son into the depths of the woods, a smirk dawning on his face as he sought vengeance for his lord.
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A/N: If you're fluent in French, I'm sure that you know that the words Hermione used when summoning and enlarging the Orphius Mortalicus were French. Yay!
If you're not fluent in French, here's a little lesson for you!
Grandir - Grow
Agrandir - Enlarge
I'm not a very creative person when it comes to spells and potions, therefore the use of French. (There may already be spells of this kind, though I couldn't think of them at the timeI wrote this chapter. If there are, please don't hesitate to point out my errors!)The next chapter will be coming up soon. Yes, there will be lots of drama, but I promise not to make Harry and Draco (or you!) suffer much more.
