The Poll on my profile page is running smoothlym many thanks to those who've voted. thusfar I am surprised at the result, albeit pleased that you are letting your mind be known. any who have not as of yet voted I urge you to please go do so. Age of Magic will conclude on Thursday, so please, enjoy the penultimate chapter, and the second part of the siege of Hogwarts!

Chapter Sixteen

Light from the Shadows

Hermione surged forth astride her gifted mount along with the rest of the Rohirrim and Centaur forces, while their ranged and infantry forces followed in the cavalry's wake. The swordmen at the front of the charge, along with Faykan, Draco, Ron, Harry, and the leaders of both Rohan and the Centaur herd were desperately cutting a swath through the enemy, creating a path for them all to follow, and pushing as far into the center of the orcish ranks as they could.

But it seemed a hopeless maneuver, there were simply too many to count. They were surrounded on all sides. This last gambit was a dire attempt to push to Voldemort and cut the head from the snake. But even still, they lost momentum far too quickly, and were soon pressed on all sides, in the middle of the grounds.

That was when Draco raised the Horn of Gondor. The sound blared over the tumult of cries from orcs and all other creatures on the battlefield, and in response a massive wailing was heard. From the far side of Voldemort's ranks, an absolutely massive creature was plodding forward. Its gray hide was covered in a harness riddled with soldiers crying shouts of battle and blood, and from the creature's face protruded four massive tusks. A Mûmakil, Hermione recognized. This meant only one singular thing.

The warriors of Harad had arrived. Upon hearing the sound of the horn, the Oliphaunt bellowed again, and the lead rider, who controlled the beast by reins through its massive ears, shot a powerful blast of magic into the air, which formed into the symbol of the D.A.

Madam Zabini and Blaise had come with reinforcements. The massive beast plowed headlong into the rear ranks of orcish warriors, swinging its head and stomping its massive feet to cause as much damage as possible as it went, while horse archers swarmed around it, sniping at everything that tried to flee from the rampaging Oliphaunt.

At the same moment, the dwarves and goblins reappeared from the tunnels and trenches that they had previously used, having dug tunnels out of the dungeons to them, popping literally up in the middle of various ranks of orcs, and giving battle to distract them from the main push of the humans and centaur.

And yet again, from the forest a fresh wave of soldiers, the Beornings, appeared, leaping from the trees and shape shifting into great bears to land heavily amid the orcs on that side, ripping and tearing with great anger into their hated enemies. Oh how the tide had turned back to their favor once more.

Hermione felt a surge of hope, and from the shouts of the warriors around her, she could tell that moral had been bolstered by the appearance of so many allies once again. Battle was joined earnestly, and the forces of Light started to slowly gain ground, pushing with all their might toward the hill between Hogwarts and Hogsmead, where they knew Voldemort had retreated to and was now watching the battle near the Shrieking Shack.

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Bellatrix remained silent as she watched the Light's most recent, and greatly foolish, attempt to fight back against the Dark Lord. Even with the added help of the traitors that Zabini's many clan warriors turned out to be, as well as the arrival of all their remaining allies at one time, there was still a massive wall of orcs alone between the Istari and the Dark Lord, among everything else that they had yet to fight through.

Even as the horsemen plowed through rank after rank of the fodder orcs, growing ever closer to the demolished walls that separated the grounds of the school from the outer countryside, the Dark Lord sent a small signal with his hand, and the ground started to rumble as the dozen giants they had recruited started wading forward, swinging their clubs like windmills.

"Bellatrix," the Dark Lord said, and the witch turned, eager for the command to go into battle. "Lead my forces while I take to the field…" the man commanded, summoning a pair of orcs who were carrying black battle armor and a massive war mace, "I have… personal… vendettas to take care of."

Bellatrix cackled, knowing to whom her Lord referred. "As you command, my Lord." She said, watching him stalk toward the ever increasing melee, armor and weapons gleaming in the light of the setting moon. The night was almost over, and they would lose the advantage of the darkness soon if they didn't finish it here.

Turning to the Wraith Lord, Bellatrix smirked, knowing that her authority now rivaled the other creature's. "I want your servants to descend on the battle, devour our enemies, use whatever means necessary."

The armored Specter turned its helmeted toward her for a moment, silently scrutinizing her with whatever magic allowed it to see. A moment of pure silence where they sized each other up, and then without a sound the metal clad figure stalked away.

At first, Bellatrix thought that the figure may have just ignored her completely, but moments later the sky darkened again as for the third time, hundreds of the foul, soul-sucking wraiths swooped low over the battlefield, free from any constraint that the Dark Lord had previously put on them, and Bellatrix smiled as she turned to the next group of warriors.

"Fenrir…" she purred, beckoning the werewolf forward. "I want your packs to circle the edge of the forest, they have skin changers there, and I want you to counter them."

Greyback snarled, "With pleasure…" throwing back his head, Fenrir howled, and though the moon wasn't full this evening, almost thirty of the infected lycanthropes charged around the edge of the tide of orcs to thwart the forest side of the battle.

"Lucius," Bellatrix called finally, and her brother-in-law stepped forward, "bombard the castle with spells; if anyone is still within I want them flushed out to be slaughtered…"

The man seemed to hesitate, but when Bellatrix glared at him, he nodded, before gesturing to the other inner circle Death Eaters and they set off to a better spot to aim at the castle. Turning back to the battle before her, Bellatrix scanned for the Dark Lord, wondering how the forces of the Light would deal with this turn of events.

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Harry wasn't terribly sure where he found the strength to keep lifting sword and staff to fight, as the endless tide of orcs and other creatures streamed at their lines nonstop, and he was in constant movement, either dodging, parrying, or attacking. There was hardly even time for him to cast any spells to create space for a breather.

And then, suddenly, the orcs thinned dramatically, creating a massive space before the riders of Rohan, before parting to reveal a new threat. Voldemort stood there, clad in black armor, wand in one hand and a giant war mace in the other.

"Harry Potter…" the man said slowly, advancing toward them on foot, "It is time that this little rebellion be ended, you and your vaunted Istari companion can do nothing to stop my growing powers now."

Harry heard the voice, and saw the face, but something just screamed to him that the man before him was not Voldemort. Something fundamental about the person before him simply did not give off the same feel as the same enemy that Harry had fought for six years now.

"Who are you?" he asked boldly, shocking most of those around him, but the being wearing Voldemort's skin just laughed.

"Very good Potter, yes, you are correct to realize that Voldemort is not the man, and he only ever was merely a man, who stands before you now. There is only one Dark Lord of the Earth, and I will not share power with another. Ever since I encountered your small pretender, I have waited and watched his blundering attempts to destroy you, thinking he was the one so prophesized to put you down, what a fool he was. A self important, over inflated man with some magical talent does not compare itself to a god upon the earth, but I am more than even that."

Magic swelled around the figure, and Harry readied his weapons.

"Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul," chanted the stranger; the Black Speech was rolling off his tongue as though he had created the language. And that was when Harry saw it, and realized that it did so because this being had indeed created that vile tongue.

"Sauron," Faykan said slowly, raising his own staff defensively as he too came to the same conclusion.

All around them, their fellow warriors of the Light fell away at the pronunciations of the Black Speech, leaving the pair of Istari alone to face the Lord of Mordor reincarnated in the body of Tom Riddle. "Yes…" the Dark Lord affirmed, smirking all too widely as he spoke, "your pathetic Voldemort had little mind for controlling such a vast world, and once the time was right I stepped forward and took direct control. Now tremble, pathetic mortals, and fall into despair, for I, the Great Dark Lord of the East, have returned!"

"There is nothing left of you to fear," Faykan countered, his own magic flaring in response to the surge of darkness from Sauron. "You power was broken long ago, and now all that remains is a shadow of that terror. In the name of the Valar I command you to turn back now, depart these lands and never return!"

With a roar of rage, the Dark Lord in Voldemort's body charged, swinging the great mace high, seeking to crush Faykan beneath it. Dodging to the left, Harry missed being caught in the attack, even as Faykan threw himself right, and the two Istari resigned themselves to direct battle with the Dark Lord Sauron.

Harry had thought that the ancient being that had sought command over all of Arda would be less than accustomed to wand-based magic, but clearly he had learned from passively observing Voldemort. Curses and hexes of the blackest variety flew of the yew and phoenix feather wand, burning the very air as they flew at Harry and Faykan, who were forced quickly to conjure shields of light to protect themselves and the warriors around them from any wild reflections.

'We need to get him away from the rest of the battle,' Faykan said telepathically, to which Harry agreed, but the question was how. It wasn't like they could just politely ask Sauron to move their personal battle to a place elsewhere. They'd have to force the Dark Lord to want their battle more private.

As one, Glamdring and Hadhafang flashed from their scabbards, and together the Blue and Green Istari charged at their fated foe. Sauron laughed, swinging the massive battle mace as they approached, eager to crush one or both of them under its weight, but the smaller and more nimble teenagers were able to dodge around the clumsy and wide strikes, using spells and swords to batter the Dark Lord's armor and shields while taking minimal damage themselves.

All around them, as though inspired by their leader's direct attack on the Dark Lord, the armies rallied, surging forward to smash on the ranks of orcs once more, pushing their way again toward the gates of the Hogwart's grounds.

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Draco knew from the moment that Voldemort appeared, or was it Sauron now, that both Faykan and Harry would be held up and rendered unable to lead their forces to victory. So, naturally, that left the responsibility to Draco himself, along with the other faction leaders. Doing what he felt was best, Draco gave the shout of Elendil and with Andúril flashing brightly, and he led the cavalry of Rohan and Centaurs of Hogwarts around the duel of the three most powerful beings on the field, and pursued the orcish host, continuing to drive them from the grounds.

Without the strong will of their leaders, the orc ranks, even with their many allies, would be significantly weakened as well. Or so he thought, before a cry rose up from their forces in several places at once. From the direction of the forest, creatures were falling upon the Beornings, werewolves in their untransformed, yet still powerful, forms, biting and scratching a the giant bear-men.

At the same time, screams came from the direction of the castle, as a barrage of spells assaulted the castle walls, blasting stone apart and shaking the building to its very foundations. People were fleeing the castle in all safe directions, just to prevent from being crushed if the entire structure came down.

Worst of all, from the sky a sudden shrieking sounded, and the host of Dementors appeared once more, descending like a black cloud on the battle, but instead of merely using the auras of fear to try and disrupt the forces of Light, they were attacking individuals, dragging them from foot and horseback into the air and performing the kiss with impunity.

Calculating quickly, Draco shouted for the others, "Ron," he yelled, pointing to the forest, "take a part and assist the Beornings, the Werewolves must be driven back. Hermione, take another third and beat back those attacking the castle, it must stand. Go forth, and fear no darkness from above!" he shouted, before turning to his own warriors, "I know I have no right or position to command you to do anything, but for what it's worth, we must win this battle, for the future of our world. Rise up defenders of the Light, and push back the foul darkness that threatens to extinguish all hope!"

Whirling his steed, Draco aimed his wand to the heavens, "Expecto Patronum!" he cried, and the shout was echoed from many voices. The small songbird of Númenor led the charge of the silver animals as they flew at the multitude of sky bound Dementors, scattering but not fully driving the vile creatures away.

Yet, even through these dread wraiths, Draco turned his sights toward the Shrieking Shack, and the current active leader directing the Dark forces army. Draco could only presume that this meant confronting his Aunt Bellatrix once last time.

Draco was really growing tired of how easily his family was swayed by dark powers, and he used this righteous anger to drive him forward, cutting through orc, Dementor, and whatever else blocked his straight path toward the hill that he just knew contained his insane Aunt. This would end, here and now.

The woman drew into sight, cackling as she watched his approach, and Draco let out a roar of challenge, "Bellatrix!"

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Sauron, Dark Lord of the Earth, laughed as the pathetic Istari danced around him, their weak elvish blades and spells glancing harmlessly off his Mordor-forged armor. Long had he waited to resume wearing the black iron that had been created and enchanted for him in the fires of Orodruin, by his own hand no less, and it was a familiar and comfortable weight that fitted this new form just as well as his old.

The only flaw he had found so far was the hindered reflexes, which prevented him from scoring a meaningful strike with the great black mace, made from the same metal no less, and crushing one of the pathetic Istari flat.

"Your strength is as nothing before my darkness," the Dark Lord taunted, allowing wizard magic, mixed with the dark power he knew and practiced of old, to be unleashed on the pair of fools that stood in his way.

In defense against his onslaught, the pair transformed into their bestial forms, and great fox and giant cat prowling around him, trying to find an opening to attack. But there was none to be found, because he was invincible, and Sauron deigned to their level of combat, sliding effortlessly into the powerful form he had assumed for himself, much like the original dragons that the Morgoth had formed in the early ages of the world.

The feeling of coiled sinew and armored scales was comfortable, and with a roar of pleasure and rage, Sauron threw himself at the pitifully tiny Istari, the massive draconic body thrashing, and flames flying from the cavernous maw. The sheer power was magnificent, and yet it was not enough to bring down the Istari, who once again used their diminutive forms to dodge around his attacks, even weaving in magic to protect their allies from collateral damage.

It was laughably frustrating, how the pair could not touch him, yet effortless prevented him from harming them or their friends as well; a perfect stalemate. This was not to be allowed to continue. With a roar, Sauron utilized an ancient magic, tearing open the fabric of space with great violence, causing the portal to start dragging in all nearby, including the two pathetic wizards.

Naturally, they resisted, but a powerful swipe from the heavily armored tail was sufficient to sweep the two in, and Sauron dove headlong into the portal after them, allowing it to seal behind them. The fires of the volcano in the distance was the only light here, in the land that were eternally his, where his power reigned supreme for ages on end.

Transforming back to his new human form, the Dark Lord reveled at the increase of his power from proximity to the land of shadows.

Mordor…

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Hermione watched in horror as the massive dragon swept Harry and Faykan away, before disappearing and leaving them all alone in the midst of their great battle. But she couldn't dwell on that fact, she had her orders, and the Death Eaters were still battering away at the castle she had called home for six years, and she would see them stopped and driven back.

"Onward!" she yelled, drawing back the elven hair bowstring and loosing an arrow into the midst of the Dark wizards, disrupting their spell casting and striking one in the shoulder. They turned, frightened as the horsemen and centaurs thundered upon them. Only a few escaped by apparition, and Hermione counted the silvery-blond hair of Lucius Malfoy among them, while the rest were trampled and slain, or forced to retreat into the massive melee of orcs, goblins and dwarves.

Those that fled there would find little refuge from the bone knives and steel axes that awaited them, because the intense fighting had become to the point where the forces of evil had ceased to recognize friend from foe, and each was fighting for their own survival over any other goal.

Glancing quickly to the other side of the battlefield, Hermione spotted that Ron and his force were encountering difficulty driving the werewolves away, the greater agility of the part-human predators easily outstripping even the swiftest centaur. Signaling to her men, Hermione lead the way to their aid, archers sending volleys of well placed arrows into the ranks ahead to clear the way. As they arrived, the front rows of lance wielding centaur plowed headlong into the first of the werewolves, battering them aside effortlessly while they were preoccupied with Ron's force.

Even as the tide began to turn, Hermione gasped as she spotted Fenrir Greyback lunging at Ron from behind. Without thinking, she loosed an arrow, which only managed to graze the werewolf's shoulder, but spun him enough to allow Ron to dodge out of his path.

Bringing Aeglos to bear, Ron buried the shimmering blue tip deep into the alpha's chest, causing the creature, more beast than man, to howl once in pain and slump over, dead.

They had little time to celebrate their two-front victory, as the Horn of Gondor sounded bright and clear from the edge of Hogsmeade, and they were off again, clearing a wide path through the orcs to the gate.

But as they reached the middle of the melee, the sky darkened all the more, and a figure barred their way, clad in dark armor and riding a black steed. The Lord of the Nazgûl, with all his power of hatred and fear, raised his sword toward them in challenge. But Hermione had had enough of darkness and terror for one horrid night, and rode forward to accept the nightmare's challenge.

"You shall not hinder us!" she said confidently. Brandishing her bow, and conjuring an arrow out of her hopes of the future, she trained the brilliant silver beam on the dark wraith. "Or whether living or dark undead I will smite you where you stand!" she threatened.

"Thou fool…" chided the dread wraith mockingly, its voice hissing with high pitches shrieks as it spoke, "No mortal man can injure me…"

"Well, it's a good thing I'm a woman," Hermione retorted, releasing the bowstring. The silver beam of light rocketed forth, flashing through the air on a straight course to the helmeted figure. The flaming sword swung, burning the air as it intercepted Hermione's projectile, shattering the blade and wrenching the hilt from the gauntleted hand.

With a shriek of anger, the Witch-King leapt from his mount, raising his alternate weapon from the ground, and Hermione widened her eyes at the size of the flail's spiked head. Quickly slipping from her own horse, she lined up another arrow on the advancing figure, trying to anticipate and avoid the swinging cannonball sized spiked weapon.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, but she was far too focused in dodging around the impossibly large weapon to pay attention. She had read the Red Book of Westmarch, and she knew the history and prophecy made regarding this, the greatest of the nine Nazgûl, regardless if the creature would regard it as such or merely a fluke. The thing was not invincible, not by a long shot, and it was foretold that no mortal man would be his downfall.

This had been fulfilled once by a woman before, so why not again? Rolling to the side to avoid the massive flail, Hermione launched several arrows, striking the Witch-King with resonating pings, but the mere metal could not pierce the vile, enchanted armor. The flail head whirled again, and Hermione shrieked as the weapon caught her in the leg, sweeping her off her feet.

"No!" Ron shouted, overcoming the fear of the Witch-King and forcing his steed to charge the horrific creature, Aeglos impaling the monster in the back like a lance. The Nazgûl reared back, shrieking, and Hermione had the perfect opening. Thinking hard of how much she loved the stupid, red-headed fool who had just saved her life, Hermione loosed a Patronus arrow directly into the shadow of the Witch-king's helmet.

Light blossomed in the darkened hood of the Wrath Lord, and with an ear splitting shriek, the entire armor body started to implode upon itself, armor bending and twisting like it was wrung through two powerful hands, while the entire form jerked and shuddered in death throes.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as the Lord of the Nazgûl perished at last, only her stifle a cry of pain as her leg flared up in utter agony. "Shhh, I've got you," said a familiar voice above her, and Hermione felt herself being lifted from the ground, warm and safe in familiar arms.

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Bellatrix scowled as her combat initiatives were rebuffed by the forces of the Light, Lucius and his Death Eaters retreating to her position while the werewolves fled into the forest. Useless fools, the lot of them, they would be punished by the Master when the time came and they had won this battle, but for the moment there was too many other important people to kill.

Case and point being Bella darling little nephew, all dressed up and pretty as some prince on his shining horse. As the boy skidded to a halt only a few paces away, their eyes locked, pitch black meeting stormy grey, and a mutual realization was understood, one of the pair were not walking away from this encounter.

"Aunt Bellatrix…" the boy said flatly, almost disdainfully, as though he thought himself better than his family. Snarling in response, she fired a curse in retaliation. The horse reared as it was struck, throwing the boy as it perished.

Out of the corner of her eye, Bellatrix saw dear brother Lucius twitch as his son fell to the cold ground, before he recovered and raised his sword and wand in defensive postures. "I won't let you get away with that, dear Auntie…" Draco said scornfully, even as the half-breeds and muggles that comprised the boy's army thundered up the hill to engage the orcs and Death Eaters guarding Bellatrix's position.

The boy shot several spells at the Dark Lord's most faithful, which she shielded and deflected away effortlessly. Even so wounded she was more than a match for little Draco, "You'll have to try harder than that if you want to win dear little Drakie…" Bellatrix scolded sarcastically, hoping to taunt the brat into making a mistake. So long as that blasted sword was in his hand most of her spells would be useless, so it had to be the first to go.

So she began with an all out offensive, unleashing blasting and cutting hexes, intermixed with disarming charms and impediment jinxes for flavor. The sword flashed to blazing life, cutting and weaving through the air to deflect and block spell after spell.

But this was exactly what Bellatrix planned for, and she quickly worked the boy into a familiar routine of spells, before suddenly shifting, throwing a much higher, and significantly darker, level of curses and illusions at her nephew, snarling as the sword's brightness intensified, but it was to no avail in the end. A jet of the green Killing Curse blasted the sword straight out of the boy's hands, and a disarming charm sent the wand following close after.

Looming over her fallen nephew, Bellatrix smirked, "and now the Dark Lord will know his true servants, and his enemies. Avada Keda…"

"No!" shouted Lucius, throwing himself at Bellatrix. Dodging out of the mad fool's way, Bellatrix danced back while keeping her wand trained on her traitorous family. "I knew that you were never as loyal to the Dark Lord as you professed…" she seethed, drawing magic around her in case the blond fool attempted to fight back. She was more than a match for him, and she could finish Draco off at her whim regardless of what his soldiers would do.

Lucius placed himself squarely between Bellatrix and Draco, arm out wide to try and shield the boy. "You will not take my son from me. The only thing that has ever mattered was family, and the Dark Lord has ripped that from my life time and again. No more!"

"As you wish, dear brother…" Bellatrix said, smirking sweetly, "then we shall simply have to, correct that matter…. Avada Kedavera!"

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Harry shakily got to his feet. The sound from the battle all around and the light of the moon above were gone now, lost behind a thick mist of dark clouds. The only feature on the barren wasteland for miles around was a single, volcanic peak, smoking still billowing from its top despite its most recent eruption.

The land of Mordor couldn't have looked bleaker in these circumstances, and Harry thought of little else than awaking Faykan so they could attempt to escape instead of fighting Sauron on his home turf. Speaking of the mad Maiar possessing a human body, the creature was stalking toward them as Harry wrenched Fay to his feet.

Even as the Blue Istari regained his footing he was already chanting out a spell, leveling his staff at the oncoming Dark Lord as elvish words poured from his lips. A massive orb of sea-blue energy formed at the tip of the staff. With a resultant explosion the orb tore across the short space, only to be deflected by the massive black mace, although it succeeded in disarming Sauron of the weapon.

"Pitiful…" the Dark Lord taunted, not halting his forward stride, and the darkened yew wand snapping into his hand. Harry reacted instantly, throwing up a powerful Light shield, which only shimmered for a split second before black lightning and other vile spells rained upon it, splitting the near silence with a cascade of miniature explosions.

The power of the dark land was still sapping their strength, weakening their spells and connection to the light while strengthening Sauron all the more. It was a bad situation and they needed to flee this place.

Almost in response to even the thought, Harry shivered as he felt wards preventing all means of long distance transportation fly up around them. Locking eyes with those that had once been Voldemort's, he knew that the evil being had planned this from the beginning, so certain in the strength of his forces to simply overwhelm Hogwarts without his presence needed, but what he failed to count for was the friends that Harry and Faykan had left, and their trust that they could easily rally the remaining defenders and turn the tide.

Which meant they were free to fight Sauron with impunity, and he them, but unless they had a way to even the field of combat, even together they didn't stand a chance at defeating the Dark Lord. Something burned on Harry's finger, just as his shield faded. Looking down even as several spells caught him in the arms and chest, Harry spied the tiny jeweled ring that he had received years ago. Vilya glowed brightly in the shadow of Mordor, challenging the power of the cursed land with the pure light the radiated from Valinor. At his side, Harry spotted Narya on Faykan's hand burning brightly as well.

"You pathetic Istari were all alike," Sauron said as he rained spells down on the pair of them, "sanctimonious fools that seek to run the world like a puppet on strings. At least I was always up front about my intentions, honest and bold faced regarding my attempts to take control of Middle Earth. But no, simply because the Valar chose to promote you to such high positions and not me; I could have been so much more!"

Vilya burned hotter still, and Harry, despite being heavily weakened from fighting for hours on end in addition to all suffered through being violently teleported and attacked just now, surged to his feet, jeweled emerald upon his golden staff ablaze. "You have none to blame but yourself for your fall!" he shot back, raising his staff high, and conjuring an orb of elemental energy. Swinging the staff in a full circle to add momentum, he threw it with all his might, watching the orb of what appeared to be concentrated air slam into Sauron's chest amour, sundering it utterly and throwing the Dark Lord back several steps.

"Why suffer horrific death," the Maiar wheezed, recovering from the surprise attack with equal swiftness, "when you could serve me, little Istari-child. It wouldn't be the first one of your vaunted Order who bowed their stiff necks to one they recognized as greater than they…"

"By all the might of the Valar, we will fight you to the bitter end!" Harry shouted, even as Faykan threw up a powerful shield to protect them from the next barrage of attacks from the deceitful and power-crazed Sauron.

Roaring with anger, Sauron slammed the ground with a hand, growling out the hideous language that ruled Mordor like an iron fist, and Harry staggered again as the very earth itself shook at the sound of the Dark Lord's voice.

A powerful curse ripped the staff from his hands, and from the cry nearby Harry could tell that Faykan was similarly disarmed. There simply was nothing they could do to stop Sauron here, his power was absolute.

"Then you will be the first to die, little green wizard…" the Dark Lord said, towering over Harry as he aimed Voldemort's wand between Harry's eyes. "Greet the Valar who worked so hard to protect you for me when I send you back to them, lesser than a ghost!"

But, even as Sauron opened his mouth to speak the curse, a cry sounded out of the west. A flash of flame followed, and suddenly Fawkes the Phoenix was in their midst. With a cry, the bird of flame and rebirth flew at Sauron, talons and beak straining at the man's face, while a burst of flames from the wings scorched the billowing black cloak he wore.

Strength poured into Harry's system as his oft companion appeared, and Vilya was starting to make his finger turn red from the heat. He knew what they had to do at last, and Fawkes was buying the time that they needed to pull it off. 'Yes, we need to move quickly if we are to throw Sauron off his guard,' Faykan agreed mentally, and together they launched into action, staffs flying from the ground back to their hands.

With a simultaneous burst of magic, the pair of Istari threw off the wards holding back means of travel to wizards, and then dashed to either side of Sauron as he swung desperately at Fawkes. Slamming his staff into the ground at Sauron's left, mirroring Faykan's on the Dark Lord's right, Harry chanted spells that were shared with him instantly via his link with the other Istari.

The gems burst into brilliant light as the pair of Istari copied Sauron's move to bring them here in the first place. The portal torn open wouldn't be taking them back to Hogwarts however, but a far different location. Once the tear was made, Faykan wandlessly conjured a powerful wind, further upsetting Sauron's footing as he fought with Fawkes. Harry followed it up by barreling into the man's body, knocking him clear from his feet to be pulled straight through the portal with a scream of rage.

"Are you ready to finish this?" Faykan asked, taking hold of his silver and sapphire staff and looking between Harry and the portal.

"It's past time that this prophecy was fulfilled…" Harry replied, taking his gold and emerald foci, and together they stepped through the portal as it closed.

They emerged, Fawkes swooping around them with a loud cry, to a dazzling seaside vantage, with the sun shining strongly overhead. The Westernmost part of the continent of Arda, up the coast from the Gray Havens, was the location of the strongest outpouring of the Valar's influence. Overlooking their place on the beach was a grassy knoll, and upon it, towering like a beacon out to sea was a white tree, flooded on every branch by flowers ready to bloom.

Even as he stepped onto the sandy beach, Harry felt a surge of power quite unlike anything he felt before. Insight and prudence freshened his mind, and he knew what ought to be done to at last end this madness.

Sauron on the other hand, was looking quite out of place, and raging in his attempts to destroy them, lashing out with curses and dark power in the Black Speech, but quite like when they were in Mordor, his darkness seemed weakened by the presence of so much ambient Light magic.

"This ends here, Sauron…" Faykan said sternly, power from Valinor clearly influencing him as well, causing his robes to shine slightly as he walked. "When Light from the Lost lands shall return… Six Sleepers shall ride… Six Signs shall burn… and where the Midsummer Tree grows tall, by Pendragon's sword the Dark shall fall!"

"Never!" Sauron raged, pointing his wand at Faykan, "Die!" the resultant blast of magic was so dark that Harry felt a chill run down his spine. A blinding shield of light exploded into being around Faykan, and the collision of the two spells thundered in Harry's eardrums for seconds after.

Recovering quickly, Harry launched into action, unleashing a fuselage of light and fire based attacks, which were dodged or blocked by swirls of darkness conjured wordlessly from the yew wand, but Harry could see the strength of Sauron slipping. Donning a mortal form for the first time in millennia must not be exactly what he was ready for, regardless of whatever power he had to himself.

"You growing tired…" Faykan taunted aloud, but the Dark Lord merely snarled and attacked again, but the spells were growing steadily weaker as he cast. Even as the man snapped a large purple curse from his wand, Harry stepped forward, invoking the Light-given magic that had been building in his ring of power for some time this night, blasting the Maiar possessed mortal back several steps.

Grim determination setting into Harry mind, he attacked with a powerful blast of white light, countered by a similar bolt of darkness from the yew wand of Voldemort. The spells met in the middle, latching into each other and forming a golden orb between the two wizards.

"Priori Incantatem…" Faykan muttered from behind Harry, but all his focus was direction on the power play between himself and Sauron over control of that sphere.

"You will fail…" Sauron managed to say, over his grunting and straining at focusing more magic into his spell, "I will destroy you all here and now, and the world of men will fall soon afterward. At long last the time of the orc has come, and therein I will rule in power as the god I was meant to be!"

"You have no power here, Servant of Morgoth..." Harry said, pulling the Phial of Galadriel from his robes, adding its brilliance to his spell. The Dark Lord shrunk back somewhat, losing a great deal of momentum on his side of the spell, allowing the orb of light to slide further toward him.

Intensifying the light from the phial, Harry shouted over the whine and crackle of the magic, "You are nameless, faceless, and formless! Go back to the void from whence you came!"

The orb changed to a shimmering silver-white, and expanded to twice its size as it bore down on Sauron in Voldemort's body. With a shout of pain and fury, the being that comprised two powerful Dark Lords who threatened the same world connected with the powerful spell, and began to burn from within on contact. The resultant blast of power ended the connection, blasting Sauron off balance and disarming him completely.

Taking his chance, Harry dashed forward, the Sword of Elrond Halfelven flashing in the light of the dawn, and dug deeply into the chest of the Dark Lord. Sauron cried out with a loud voice, fiery darkness building up behind his eyes, burning him from within as he died. In moments, there was nothing left but a pile of ashes, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

It was finally over, the prophecies, the war, everything…

Potential Spoilers Ahead, You Have Been Warned!

Ah, the last time I have to warn people of spoilers in this bottom section. Yes, Sauron, the great enemy of the Earth is defeated once again, and the epilogue of the final book, and indeed the whole story, will be posted in two days. It's been a great run, ill say in advance, and I'm quite happy with my changes and embellishments to the story. To head off those who may ask about the use of Pendragon's sword in the prophecy, and that Anduriel was not the blade that ended Sauron, note that I used a slightly differed interpretation of the phrase. Pendragon, meaning of the line of the Dragon, refers to anyone who has the blood of Uther Pendragon, which Harry qualifies as, being the grandson of a Black, who married early on into the line of Elessar. as to the sword, it is not capitalized, and therefore not functioning as a title, so the phrase is actually saying the sword of a descendant of the Dragon, not necessarily Excalibur/Anduriel specifically. part of my thoughts for that was the idea that "nothing happens the same way twice," which I have tried to roll into every nearcanonical reference back to LotR. the events participate in a cycle, wher ethe same situations arise, but the outcomes are not necessarily identical, even if they turn in the same direction. that is my reasoning. until Thursday, and the epilogue! ~F