Chapter 52
Dean, Harry Ron and Hermione were hiding in the room just before the location of the Dark Lord and his servant, with the use of Muffliato and a Disillusion charm.
"My Lord," a voice cracked. He turned. There was Lucius Malfoy sitting in the darkest corner, looking quite ragged. One of his eyes was closed and puffy. "My Lord…please…my son…"
"If your son is dead, Lucius, it is not my fault. He did not come and join me, like the rest of the Slytherins. Perhaps he has decided to befriend Harry Potter?"
"No, never," whispered Malfoy.
"You must hope not."
"Aren't, aren't you afraid, my Lord, that Potter might die at another hand but yours?" asked Malfoy, his voice shaking. "Wouldn't it be…forgive me, more prudent to call off this battle, enter the castle, and seek him y-yourself?"
Harry glowered at Lucius, knowing that cowardice must run in the family.
"Do not pretend, Lucius. You wish the battle to cease so that you can discover what has happened to your son. And I do not need to seek Potter. Before the night is out, Potter will have come to find me." Voldemort dropped his gaze and looked at the wand in his hand, thinking. "Go and fetch Snape."
"Snape, m-my Lord?"
"Snape. Now. I need him. There is a service I require from him. Go."
Lucius left the room. Voldemort continued to stand there, twirling the wand between his fingers, staring at it.
"It is the only way, Nagini," he whispered, and he looked around. The snake was now suspended in mid-air, twisting gracefully within the enchanted, protected space he had made for her.
It was a few minutes before Snape arrived. He looked at his master with a look of slight fear.
"I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from Albus Dumbledore. The Malfoy boy brought it to me."
"My Lord, let me go to the boy."
"I have been wondering why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner…and I think I have the answer." Snape did not speak.
"Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen. The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine."
"My Lord!" Snape protested, raising his wand.
"It cannot be any other way," said Voldemort. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."
Voldemort swiped the air with the Elder Wand and Nagini's cage was rolling through the air, and before Snape could do anything more than yell, it had encased him, head and shoulders, and Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue.
"Kill." There was a terrible scream. "I regret it," said Voldemort coldly.
He turned away and pointed the wand at the cage holding the snake, which drifted upward, off Snape. The man fell onto the floor, blood gushing from the wounds in his neck. Voldemort left the room without a backward glance
"Harry!" breathed Hermione behind him, but he had already pointed his wand at the crate blocking his view. It lifted an inch into the air and drifted sideways silently. As quietly as he could, he pulled himself up into the room. Harry took off the Invisibility Cloak. He bent over him, and Snape seized the front of his robes and pulled him close.
"Take…it… Take…it…" Snape rasped.
Silvery blue gushed from Snape's mouth and his ears and his eyes. Harry's widened. A flask that conjured from thin air was thrust into his shaking hand by Hermione. Harry lifted the silvery substance into it with his wand. When the flask was full to the brim, and Snape looked as though there was no blood left in him, his grip on Harry's robes slackened.
"Look…at…me…" he whispered. His eyes fixed with Harry's, and Dean watched as Snape's eyes turned glassy, and his hand fell limp with a dull thud. Hermione let out a sob. Dean moved forward, closing the man's eyes.
"Shit," he muttered. Even though he didn't like the man, it was still a shock. It was a horrid way to die. Dean knew what it was like to die in pain, to feel fangs sinking into flesh and killing, torturing. It was already so bad, but a part of Dean's mind was aware it would only get worse. They remained kneeling there for an unknown amount of time before a high, cold voice rang through the skies.
"You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilt is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured. I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then the battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."
Hermione, Ron, Dean, and Jo turned to Harry. Harry's face was pale, green eyes showing a range of emotions Dean couldn't place.
"Harry don't listen to him. We can sort out a new plan," Hermione begged.
"Yeah mate," Ron agreed quietly. Dean observed the redhead at that moment. He was aware that Ron and Harry were like brothers, and Dean knew the thought running through the Weasley's mind at that moment. I've already lost one brother; I can't lose another.
"We gotta go back," Dean urged. "We need to fight. We're in it this far and there's no damn way we're giving up." Slowly Harry nodded and rose to his feet, clutching the bottle of blue silvery liquid tightly. They crawled back through the tunnel that led back to the huge tree, The Whomping Willow.
The castle was unnaturally silent. There were no flashes of light now, no bangs or screams or shouts. The flagstones of the deserted Entrance Hall were stained with blood. Emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and topaz stones were still scattered all over the floor, along with pieces of marble and splintered wood. Part of the bannisters had been blown away. All in all, the once-proud school that was a beacon of light for several witches and wizards over the years, and recently for the Winchesters, was now reduced to mere rubble.
"Where is everyone?" whispered Hermione, her voice tight with emotion.
Ron led the way to the Great Hall. Harry stopped in the doorway.
The House tables were gone, and the room was crowded. The survivors stood in groups, staying close to each other and offering comfort. The injured were still being treated in the Hospital Wing by Madam Pomfrey and a group of helpers. The dead lay in a row in the corner of the Hall.
Dean walked down the aisle. As he passed, he looked down, stomach nearly up-chucking as recognized several faces. Some were students, just kids, nothing more than that. Others were older than he, members of the Order of the Phoenix, fellow teachers at Hogwarts and people he had only spotted once or twice. Students' parents, their families, fighting for their lives, just like Dean was for his own.
"She's passed. She's gone," he heard the sobbing voice of Sybil Trelawney reaching his ears and he looked over to see her and another student pull a blanket over Professor Babbling, who taught the Study of Ancient Runes.
He walked forward, heart racing. He saw as Ron ran towards the group of six redheads. Fred and George were both crying. Ginny was huddling into her mother's side, silent tears cascading down her cheeks. Molly was sobbing freely, lying against Percy's chest. Her husband was stroking her back, as tears trailed under the glasses. Without a word to anyone, Ron and Hermione walked toward them. Hermione approached Ginny, whose face was swollen and blotchy, and hugged her. Ron joined Bill and Fleur, who flung their arms around Ron's shoulders. Dean moved forward and knelt.
"I know it doesn't help but, I'm so sorry Molly," he said gently. The mother looked up, her face swollen with tears and eyes filled with a grief Dean had felt twice before, the first with his knees in the mud, clutching Sam in Cold Oak, and lying in that cemetery, watching as Sam threw himself into the Pit.
"Thank you, Dean," Molly choked out. "I'm sorry too."
"What happened?" Dean asked in a rapid tone, heart pounding painfully against his ribcage. He saw Molly's face drain of the little colour it had.
"Dean!" he heard his father yell from further down the Hall. Dean stood. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Harry had left the Hall, not daring to approach the Weasley family. A small part of his mind wondered where he had gone, but the growing fear he felt pushed the thought from his mind. As he went past the Weasley family, he noticed another staff member had lost their lives. Horace Slughorn had been murdered. Dean noticed with a pang of sadness that the man was good, a little eccentric at times, but good, nonetheless.
He walked towards his family, noticing his mother was crying. Behind them, he saw the burgundy coloured hair of Annie Hawkins, a fellow hunter that Dean had been friends with. Beside her, lay Jim. Dean paled. His footfalls became closer as he saw his father kneeling beside a body, his back to him. Mary was stroking the person's hair, and Jo looked up, meeting Dean's gaze, tears were flowing freely down her face. Ellen and John both were trying to comfort Mary. Jessica was sobbing, clutching the body's hand. Dean's heart nearly stopped. No, that didn't mean what he thought it meant. He dropped to his knees. Sam, no… not Sammy. His worst fears had been realized.
Sammy's eyes were glassy, a fixed, lifeless brown as they stared upwards at the enchanted ceiling. Dean's throat closed as every fibre of his being tried to deny the truth, that Sammy was gone, dead… Bewilderment began to seep in. How could Sammy be dead? It just wasn't true; he wouldn't believe it.
There had been no preparation and no time to gradually absorb the reality that the world was about to change dramatically. Instead, there was the sudden destruction of the world Dean used to know. No gradual transition, just sudden and blinding pain. He collapsed, sobbing into his brother's chest.
"No," he cried, his sobs releasing from his chest in painful spurts. Sammy, his little brother… no… no… He sat up slowly, looking into the face of his brother. His face was stark white, a blue tinge to his skin. His normally giant 6"4 brother looked tiny in death. He felt helpless, vulnerable. All through his brother's life, he had tried to help him, raise him. He had made Sam's lunch for him, even as a child, and stopped his nightmares. Sure, they had bitched and argued non-stop, but that was what made them brothers. The weight of the grief and pain pressed down on him. He moved his shaking hand towards his brother's face. His fingertips rested on Sammy's eyelids and slid them shut.
There was barely any damage to his body. There were a few cuts and scrapes. A deep gash in his cheek, in which the blood had long clotted, stood out in an obscene fashion against the pale skin. There was a hand on his back, but he didn't turn to see if it was Jo or Mary, it didn't really matter to him right now.
"I'm so sorry Professor," a voice sounded behind him. His puffy, tear-filled eyes looked up to see an equally tearful Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.
"He was a good guy," Ron finished for Hermione, who looked like she was unable to speak. Dean's voice choked on a sob at Ron's use of the past tense. Because that's all that would be used when referring to Sammy now, was…. He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and moving his fingers to brush against his little brother's brown hair
"Yeah," he agreed quietly.
Suddenly, a high cold voice yelled through the silence in the lull of the battle
"Harry Potter is dead!" Voldemort's voice echoed. Hermione and Ron's heads snapped up, and they bolted for the door, as did many of the remaining hunters and wizards. They sprinted outside the Entrance Hall, into the courtyard, where they stopped in shock. The Death Eaters came to a halt in a line facing the open front doors of the school. Harry lay limp in Hagrid's arms. The half-giant's face was contorted in pain that had nothing to with the torture he had been through.
"NO!" Minerva screamed. Dean's head whipped to the side as he heard a crazy black-haired female Death Eater cackling in laughter at Minerva's despair.
"No!" Hermione and Ron screamed together.
"Harry! HARRY!" Ginny screamed. She lunged forward, and Arthur pulled her back, shouting, "No!" It was like a trigger for the Death Eaters, who began to cheer and laugh triumphantly.
"Not my pup!" Sirius yelled
"SILENCE! Voldemort cried. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!" Hagrid, as if he were holding a newborn baby and not a sixteen-year-old man, lowered Harry onto the grass in the way Dean would have done with his brother.
"You see?" Voldemort continued, pacing in front of Harry's body. Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"
"You're full of shit you bastard!" Dean growled.
"He beat you!" Ron roared and the survivors of the battle began screaming in defiance. There was a bang, and everyone was silent.
"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," said Voldemort, and there was a sneer in his voice for the lie. "Killed while trying to save himself!" There was a scuffle and a shout, another bang, a flash of light, and a grunt of pain. Neville Longbottom had broken free of the crowd and faced Voldemort.
"And who is this?" Voldemort asked in his soft snake's hiss. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?" Bellatrix Lestrange gave a delighted laugh.
"It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The son of the Aurors, remember?" Bellatrix cackled.
"Ah, yes, I remember," said Voldemort, looking down at Neville, standing between the survivors and the Death Eaters.
"I'd like to say something," Neville said. Voldemort looked surprised, but then he sneered.
"Well, Neville, I'm sure we'd all be fascinated to hear what you have to say," he taunted.
"It doesn't matter that Harry's gone," Neville said loudly.
"Stand down, Neville," Seamus Finnegan interrupted, concerned for his fellow Gryffindor.
"People die every day!" Neville exclaimed. "Friends, family. Yeah, we lost Harry tonight. But he's still with us. In here," he said, pointing to his heart. "So is Percy, Professor Dumbledore, Lavender, Remus, Tonks, Sam. All of them. They didn't die in vain!" He turned to Voldemort, who was laughing.
"But you will! Because you're wrong! Harry's heart did beat for us. For all of us!" Neville exclaimed. He ripped the Sword of Gryffindor from the Sorting Hat that had been in his hand. "And it's not over!" He lunged forward, swiping the sword horizontally through Nagini, her head falling to the ground.
Chaos erupted. The light and dark sides ran for each other. Harry shoved himself out of Hagrid's arms, running and dodging the spells. Voldemort roared in rage. Dean sprinted forward to see Ginny's wand flying out of her hand as Bellatrix grinned triumphantly.
"NOT MY DAUGHTER YOU BITCH!" Molly Weasley screamed, throwing off her cloak as she ran, freeing her arms.
"OUT OF MY WAY!" Molly shouted to the three girls, and with a simple swipe of her wand, she began to duel. Harry watched with terror and elation as Molly Weasley's wand slashed and twisted, and the woman's smile faltered and became a snarl. Jets of light flew from both wands, the floor around the witches' feet became hot and cracked; both women were fighting to kill.
"No!" Molly cried as a few students ran forward, trying to come to her aid. "Get back! Get back! She is mine!"
"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" taunted Bellatrix in a simpering voice, as Molly's curses danced around her. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Percy?"
"You-will-never-touch-our-children-again!" Molly screamed. The woman laughed as Molly's curse soared beneath the Death Eater's constricted arm and hit her directly over her heart. Her smile froze, her eyes bulging. She toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed. Sirius cheered.
Dean knew he had to do something. He stepped forward at the same time as Harry blasted a protection charm between Voldemort and Molly.
"I don't want anyone else to help," Harry said loudly. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me." Voldemort hissed.
"Potter doesn't mean that," he said, his red eyes wide. "This isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today?"
"Nobody," said Harry simply. "There are no more Horcruxes. It's just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good…."
"One of us?" jeered Voldemort, and his whole body was taut, and his red eyes stared, like a snake that was about to strike. "You think it will be you, do you? The boy who has survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"
"You won't be killing anyone else tonight," said Harry as they circled. "You won't be able to kill any of them ever again. Don't you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people. I did the exact same thing my mother did."
"Dumbledore cannot help you now, Potter! He is dead!" Voldemort hurled the words at Harry. "I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return!"
"Yes, Dumbledore is dead, but you didn't have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant. Snape never beat Dumbledore! Dumbledore's death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die, undefeated, the wand's last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand's power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!"
"Potter, Dumbledore as good as gave me the wand!" Voldemort's voice shook with malicious pleasure. "I took it against the last master's wishes! Its power is mine!"
"Possessing the wand isn't enough! Holding it, using it, doesn't make it really yours. Didn't you listen to Ollivander? The wand chooses the wizard… The Elder Wand recognized a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realizing exactly what he had done, or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance…"
Voldemort's chest rose and fell rapidly, and Harry could feel the curse coming, feel it building inside the wand pointed at his face.
"The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy, but you're too late," said Harry. "You've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco a few hours ago. I took his wand from him."
Harry twitched his wand, and he felt the eyes of everyone in the Hall upon it.
"So, it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" whispered Harry. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was disarmed? Because if it does… I am the true master of the Elder Wand." Harry braced, seeing as Voldemort's resolve broke.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
The bang was deafening, and golden flames erupted between them, in the dead centre of the circle they had been treading. The Elder Wand flew high. Harry caught the wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backwards, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. Voldemort hit the ground with a dull thud.
A moment of stunned silence, and those who fought the good side erupted into applause and raced for Harry. They gripped him tight in hugs. Dean watched the celebration as the tiredness of the night and the grief hit him full force. Walking away from the cheering wizards, he walked back inside to the Great Hall, where Sam's body still lay. Dean knelt beside his brother. The anger had been blown in the midst of the battle, and now, all Dean could do was stay by his brother's side and comfort his family the best he could. Dean had known it would only get worse, but he didn't realize how right he would have actually been at the time.
