Disclaimer: The rights to the Harry Potter series go to J.K. Rowling. All original ideas present in this belong to me.

Chapter Fifty-Two | O' but One Yet Lingers

Just as we're to leave the earth itself shakes, dust falling from the ceiling and shelves rattling angrily.

"What the- "

An explosion can be heard from above, so horribly massive that I can feel my eardrums shiver against its onslaught, stone grinding against stone and the castle shuddering in rictus.

Fleur and I sprint, running from the chambers and leaping out across the fetid pool that lays at the feet of Salazar's statue.

With a flick of my wrist Magna's bones uncoil, low heady clanks shaking from the stripped corpse as it shakes itself awake

:The castle is under attack, come with me:

It nods solemnly, taking us upon its head and lacing through scum soaked pipes towards the surface, out into that familiar second floor bathroom.

"Do you think it's Voldemort?" Fleur asks as we grip Magna's skull, fingers tightly pressed against cracked bone.

I scoff, glancing at her side-eyed. "Who else would it be?"

She shrugs. "Ministry?"

"Doubt it."

I can hear shouting and screaming in the distance, and although it's muted McGonagall's voice calls above the others, steady and strong.

But there's fear in it, not her usual strict brogue. There's a lilting edge that frays her words, like she can scarcely believe what she's saying.

Another explosion, louder. The wards shiver underneath whatever onslaught Voldemort has unleashed upon them, an electric squeal that hums beneath the school's bones.

"We need to get them somewhere safe."

"Where?"

"Room of Requirement?"

Fleur nods as the creatures do, a blistered stalk of eyes and pulsating tendrils bobbing happily at my words.

"Alright."

Our wands are ready - just in case. It's almost guaranteed that McGonagall will attack us on sight, the rest of the teachers (sans Severus) included.

I grit my teeth against another wave of pain, another screaming chorus of murderous gospel.

Not them.

Magna is enormous as she lowers us past the first floor corridors and towards the Great Hall, the castle seemingly empty.

A quick tempus shows me that it's breakfast time.

"We're going to scare the hell out of them."

Fleur laughs and I can't help but smile. "I know."

The doors are wide open, and it takes a few moments for the already frightened, murmuring students to notice the massive, fuck-off basilisk skeleton peeking its head through the door.

But when they do?

The students scream, falling over one another in a mad rush towards the back of the Hall.

McGonagall stands atop the staff table like a sentry, wand raised above her head and the cutlery and plates already being transfigured into an array of particularly vicious animals.

"Voldemort is attacking," Fleur shouts, muted shrieks her only response. "You need to- "

"You will not harm a single student here!" McGonagall cries out, sending an array of tigers, lions, and other snarling felines towards us.

With a lazy wave Fleur decimates them, a furious wave of fire erupting from her open palm and scattering across the animals, the sickening stench of burnt fur filling the room. She immediately blankets the room in a thin layer of water, dousing the creeping embers that nibble at the benches.

"McGonagall!" I jump down from Magna, arms spread wide. "You need to get the students to safety, Voldemort is attacking the castle!"

I can see Flitwick poking out above the table, looking more confused than furious. "The castle is under attac-" I duck as a spell flies just over my head, smashing chunks out of the wall.

Annoyed, I close my fist, a prison of air coiling around her wrists and ankles and binding them in place. "Stop!" I roar, wand pointed at the staff. "We don't have time for this. Voldemort is attacking the castle as we speak." Another explosion punctuates my words, the sconces along the wall sputtering angrily. "We need to get the students to safety. Now if you will stop attacking me, I can help you. If you want to die, by all means stay and fight. I won't kill students unless they attack me first, but the rest of you?" I eye the Professors warily, a few of them flinching away from my gaze. The others glare. "Free game."

I point at the door. "Are you going to follow me, or not?"

A few of the professors stand before the students, arms held out protectively. I look through the crowd reflexively, searching for my friends.

I can see relief on Severus' face, fear in Flitwicks. The students are terrified, eyes wide and trembling from head to toe. Bushy brown hair peeks out from among them, familiar, falling across her face in that-

"Oh god."

"Helene, what's wrong?"

I put my hand up, can feel the muscles in my jaw straining. "Hermione."

Marching forward, I push one of the tables over, sending it crashing loudly against the floor. Students scream as I run towards them, forcing a trembling Sinistra out of the way and grabbing Hermione by the shoulders.

"What happened to you?"

Her face is scarred, two long strips of raised flesh running from her forehead down to her throat, disappearing beneath her shirt. Resting beneath the scar tissue is a swollen and milky eye, unseeing.

"Who did this to you?" I whisper, gripping her shoulders tight.

She chokes, trying to draw her arm up and cover her scars, all I can see is the missing fingers - pinky and ring missing, simply knotted stumps in their place. "V- Voldemort."

"How did I not know? Why didn't someone tell me?"

"I couldn't- " she coughs, biting her lip so hard as to draw blood. "I barely escaped. The Weasleys, I found them, they took me in. They wouldn't… they wouldn't let me talk to you, not with- " Hermione looks past me towards the mountainous skeleton. "Not with what you've done."

"I'm so sorry." I kneel, ignoring the whispers and stares, trusting Fleur to keep an eye on the faculty and stop them from shooting me in the back. "I am so, so sorry that this happened to you. They caught you running, didn't they? Found the pathway Octavius carved out."

She nods, tear streaked.

"Fuck." Forcing myself to take a deep breath I screw my eyes shut. "Ginny is okay? The twins? Luna?"

"Yeah- they're all… they're all fine."

"Alright. You need to get all the students to the Room of Requirement. I trust you. Hide them. Fleur and I are going to fight, but you need to stay safe."

I look up at the children. "All of you need to stay safe. My war isn't with you, it's with the bastard outside who wants to kill everyone in this castle. Now are you going to follow her, or am I going to have to make you?"

The students shuffle, and I point my wand into the air, letting off a bang. "Go!"

I watch as they start to leave the Great Hall, shirking away from Magna as they follow behind Hermione. Hagrid looms over everyone, and I can't help but flinch as he looks at me.

It's a blistering scowl that he sends in my direction and I can feel as it slices through me, the ire of a good man seemingly bleeding me dry. Fidgeting with my wand, I turn to the staff, all of whom are looking confused at best, murderous at worst.

"I don't need you to defend this school." I look at Flitwick, Severus, Iolaire. "You can help, if you'd like, but do know that I intend to kill as many Death Eaters as I can. If you can't handle the sight of gore, stay upstairs with the students."

Severus walks forward, Iolaire close behind as he claps me on the shoulder. "I'll be with you."

"You can't- " McGonagall seems to flounder, still red faced and suspended in the air. "You… know her? Worked with her? This whole time?"

"We've been friends for quite a while," he states drily. "Minerva, go call the Ministry, we're going to need all the help we can get."

"Severus, are you sure about that?" I ask.

"What." He raises one eyebrow. "You can't handle a few Aurors if they decide to attack you?"

I sigh, waving him off. "Someone get McGonagall to her office, we want the Ministry here as soon as we can. The external wards won't last much longer." I release her from her shackles, watching as she lands near silently, feet steady on the ground.

The castle shakes again. "Iolaire?"

He smiles, grabbing Minerva by the shoulder. "Come on, Headmistress."

She hisses as she's dragged away, wand rolling between her fingers. I shake my head, hoping the message gets through.

Don't even try.

"Severus." I turn back to him. "He hasn't called you?"

"It seems not." He presses his hand against his forearm, thumb brushing at the cloth. "I don't think he wanted me to know. For a moment I thought you..."

"You thought I was the one attacking."

It hurts.

It hurts so much to hear that, to know that he thought me the one trying to tear down the school, to raze it to the ground with all the children in it.

I'm sure I would have been expelled from the grounds by Hogwarts herself if I came with such intention, torn to pieces before I could even set down in the quiet, cold chambers of Slytherin.

"Oh."

He scoffs, painting a practiced sneer across his face, though it holds no venom. "I know better, Helene. You may be many things, but you would never attack this school."

I almost find myself laughing at the lie. Not that he knows it's one, no. Somehow, Severus has become the one that's too trusting. Too hopeful.

Too naive.

But the voices? The pounding of the drums? That burning addiction, blood on my skin and screams in the air…

I very well could have been the one banging on the door, wand tinted green and murder on my lips.

"Voldemort?"

"The Dark Lord is unhinged, more so than ever before. Whatever you did to him in the graveyard left him… incapable of much. He's manic at the worst of times, solitary at the best."

"He didn't try to cure himself? Not once?" I ask.

He had gotten worse, the last time I'd seen him. Not just hunchbacked but almost rotten, skin barely hanging onto bone and a frenzy about him that seemed almost animalistic.

"No." He shakes his head. "I think he enjoys his newfound power. Your blood was more than we thought."

"You don't think- "

"No, he can't do what you do, but it's… he's strong. Stronger than he ever was."

"Helene…"

"Flitwick." I grimace at the interruption, not quite ready to face the man. "Long time no see."

"What have you done to yourself?" He pulls up beside me, and he looks so… broken. His eyes are sunken, bruised from lack of sleep. His normally well-trimmed mustache seems wiry and jagged. "What happened to you?"

"Death."

Astonishment. Awe. Fear.

Disgust.

"You died?"

I laugh, bitter. "Twice. Three times? Maybe more. Apparently… well, it doesn't really matter. I'm not… I'm not who you thought I was." I look into his eyes. "I'm going to kill everyone out there. It's not going to be clean, it's not going to be kind. Do you think you're ready for that?"

He frowns. "You said Voldemort is out there, he's the one attacking us?"

"Yes."

"Then that's all I need to hear."

"Filius, I- "

"Don't." He puts one hand up, fingers shaking. "I don't want to hear it. Don't… not today. I've heard enough of what you've been up to from the wireless. Don't make this any worse."

I curse as another explosion rocks the castle, even the enchantment that hangs atop the Hall shimmering. It's time.

"Fleur, let's go."

I run forward and she hoists me up, hand warm around my wrist.

We're out the doors in a flash, and the sky itself seems to be alight.

The wards are visible, a dome that hangs above the castle, indomitable and sparking furiously. The magic itself seems to hiss, bursts of searing blue lightning carving thick lines across the mountainside.

It crackles as it's bombarded with spells, a mass of black-cloaked wizards showering the wards with a cornucopia of glittering lights.

"How did he get so many?" I ask aloud, horrified by the host that Voldemort has amassed. "Hundreds so soon…"

"People were always waiting," Fleur states, rolling her shoulders. "Even in France, there were some that spoke about his death with sadness."

My hand slips into my jacket pocket of its own accord, fingers tracing over Death's stone.

I drop from Magna heavily, boots sinking into the mud. My magic pours through buried battlefields, banners and steeds long lost to beautiful, rolling hills and a sheer unbroken line of moulded stone.

The parapets are high, like gods of war overseeing the soon-to-be bloodbath, eager to watch as their fields are baptized once more.

I tear their old offerings from the ground, taking blades and claws and spears from soil that's still stained in red, clay so thick with filth that it stinks of iron.

They are mine.

Knights, Goblins, Wizards, Kings, they all crawl from the muck. Armour rattles and bones clack as they take a stand. They roar silently, maws open wide and swords bashing against shields, a cacophony of rusted steel.

Beings, true Beings have come with them, eager for blood. They coil round ribs and shattered pelvises, humming, crying, the air around them distorted and sour.

Fight, fight, fight, fight, fight-

An endless droning, the thunderous stomp of a war march.

I smile at them, at Death's children, my brethren. They want this. I want this. To see the grass soaked in red and scattered with quivering offal. To let this castle once more hear the screams of the dying, a power in and of itself.

Oh but it is power, something so beautifully final, so incredibly raw.

The taste is already upon my tongue, the stench of fear in my nose. I can hear the screams, the garbled, burbling, wild ramblings of a man with his chest torn out, begging a god he doesn't believe in for mercy.

Fleur stamps her feet, grinding the mud beneath her heel. Her knees bounce, worrying her bottom lip as she cracks one knuckle after the other with her thumb, flames tickling at her fingertips.

She can feel it, move to this rhythm that is as old as time. It sings in her veins and screams in her mind. How she grinds her teeth and blinks - one, two, three - too many times, as if shaking away a beast, focusing on the here and now.

I can hear footsteps behind us, not the iron clank or low rattle of bones, but the soft steady tread of shoes and boots against wet grass.

Glancing behind me, I take note.

Severus, Flitwick, Iolaire, McGonagall, Hagrid, and Babbling. I find myself more surprised at McGonagall's help than Babbling's. Her stare is worth a thousand words, somehow both dead eyed and furious, the hatred almost palpable.

Then Moody appears from behind them, and I can't help but flinch.

The man's eye is spinning dizzyingly in his skull, but it locks onto me in an instant, almost flashing angrily.

"Is he the only member of the Order you've brought?" I ask, Fleur sidling up next to me.

McGonagall scowls. "You killed the only other I would have brought along."

Oh.

"Shacklebolt?" Fleur asks.

"Yes."

Shit.

Fleur and I both make eye contact, her gaze steady, yet holding the slightest bit of guilt.

He must have been among the casualties at the Ministry.

"Don't look at me like that."

Moody sneers, hackles raised. "Like what, girl?"

"I'm not your enemy."

He cackles, eye spinning again. "Not my enemy she says? Girl, you've left a trail of bodies from Hogwarts to Dover. I've seen your work, messy, that is. Heard they had to scoop a boy into a bottle once you were done with him." Moody's leg is buried in mud, the man leaning to the side as he looks me over. "You're lucky I don't kill you here."

It's my turn to laugh, and I can feel the insanity in it, fraying at the edges. "I'd like to see you try."

Moody snorts, walking past me and tapping one of the undead on the shoulder with his wand. "Very interesting."

It's then that I notice how the professors stand awkwardly next to rotten corpses and long-stripped bones, even Severus looking unnerved by the display.

"They won't bite."

Iolaire smiles faintly, Dumbledore's old wand pointed at the ground. "No, I suppose they won't. Not us, at least."

I direct my attention back to the host of black robed wizards, the wards flickering more and more as they take in a barrage of magical artillery.

A single light suddenly glows out from the centre, so wildly bright as the light up the field.

It snaps off with a burst so loud that I can feel the shockwave as it passes over us, the spell crashing into the wards with an almighty bang.

The force of it is nearly cataclysmic as it brings down the shields, the earth shuddering beneath my feet and trees close to the impact swaying dangerously. I can see the soil bulge as their roots cling desperately to the nooks they've wormed themselves into.

Fleur growls, the skin on her back rippling as feathers begin to work their way out, face tapering into a point and angry fangs peeking from over her lips. "Voldemort."

"He really has gotten stronger," I say, awed.

"Just be glad he can't control the dead," Fleur replies, watching as the horde begins to walk towards us. "Raw power isn't everything."

Slowly but surely Voldemort's men creep closer, no longer an inky mass. I can make out faces, the flash of skin here and there.

Hands grasping wands tightly, shoulders shaking in poorly suppressed fear as they begin to take in the undead. Voldemort leads them, his robes wet with pus and face smeared in dried blood.

He looks like a ghoul. Sick with gangrene and stripped of all reason, his skin mismatched in places - like patchwork.

But his hand… that's not his hand.

Christ.

He's sewn it on.

"Ah, Severus," he drawls, catching sight of the man. "I should have known. You never did answer my call."

"I didn't particularly feel like following a madman."

Voldemort laughs - much too thick, much too short fingers trailing over his wand lovingly. His snake, Nagini, is curled around his shoulders, the animal so massive I'm surprised his bones aren't buckling under the weight.

But the piece of his soul that I can see inside of her is what interests me.

"Fleur."

"What."

"Kill the snake above all else," I whisper, smiling. "That's number four."

Her eyes light up. "I thought I smelled something."

"So?" Voldemort calls out, his voice garbled through teeth crammed too close together. "You think yourself at an advantage, girl, having taken my best man? I'd like to know where you've been hiding him. I had… plans, for his son." He smiles wickedly. "So impressionable, that boy. I hear you two know each other well."

I laugh. "Lucius? No, he left of his volition. He abandoned you, Voldemort. He can see what you've become. You're nothing but a rabid dog, look at you." I point, glancing questioningly at his men. "This is who you follow? What you follow? He's a beast. A child acting out against a society he thought wronged him.

"You can leave now. Flee. Run as far as you can." I smile, the expression more ferocious than anything Voldemort could muster. "If you leave this place I promise I won't come after you. I will not look for you. But if you don't?" I pull one of the men towards us with a burst of air, can hear him scream as he falls to the ground.

He tries to pull himself up, scrambling desperately against muddied earth.

I stamp my foot, burying him up to his neck in soil. He keeps screaming, head swinging back and forth as he struggles against his earthen prison.

Kneeling, I press my shadowed hand against the man's cheek. "This will hurt," I whisper, looking back up at Voldemort, who seems to be nothing but amused. "This is what will happen to you if you don't leave now."

I press my fingers into his flesh, where his jawbone meets his skull. They pierce easily, garnering another scream out of him.

Relishing in his pain, I grip tight, yanking his jaw off in one smooth motion.

Blood flies as an ungodly wail erupts from the man, tongue lolling out of the gaping hole that is his throat and laying flat against the skin.

I take the jawbone and bash him over the head.

Once. Twice.

His skull caves in, meat and bone bursting out in chunks. His shrieks grow softer, turning into groans as his brain is mashed into a fine paste.

I can hear someone retch from behind me as I stand up, stomping on his head and reducing what remains of the man's face to a muddled soup of bone meal and blood.

Fleur just laughs.

Voldemort claps, a high manic chuckle on his lips. "Wonderful," he effuses. "A woman after my own heart. Your interesting bit of stress relief aside, may we get on with this?"

I sigh as only a dozen or so men clinging to the back of the host begin to leave. "You know, you must have done something truly horrific to keep them here."

Smirking, he raises his wand, body twitching erratically. "No more talk."

A burst of green light soars over my head, and I just narrowly avoid it as I throw myself to the ground.

In an instant, the undead rush the line, Voldemort roaring with laughter as his men begin to fight back, unashamed of the blood splashing across his robes as the men flanking him are torn to pieces.

He deftly leaps away from one of the skeletons, smashing it to bits with a well placed curse.

I can feel the crackle of magic in the air as spells begin to fly, bits of torn up soil being transfigured into creatures of all shapes and sizes.

A group of rhinos charges from the left, a Death Eater gored upon its horn and wailing in pain as his friends are trampled underfoot.

Impressive.

Runes are drawn underfoot by Babbling, setting off a chain reaction down the Death Eater line of tightly packed explosions, limbs flying through the air.

I run forward, shadowed limbs bursting from my spine and carving chunks out of the fighters in a circle around me. The air is rank with bile as their intestines pour out, some of the Death Eaters falling over in pieces.

I hiss as a crossbow bolt embeds itself in the neck of a man next to me, and he falls over choking on his own blood.

Fleur pushes another out of the way as she fights her way up next to me, the ground swimming with roots and vines as they snake out across the grass, snatching Death Eaters by the ankle and strangling them as they're trodden upon by their allies.

Magna surges from behind us, soaring overhead and crashing into the Death Eaters. The ground rumbles underfoot as she grinds them into a paste, jaw snapping up anyone who dares to tread too close.

A high pitched cackle is all I need to hear as I throw myself to the side, the lightning crackle of spellfire sizzling past my ear and bursting against the hip of one of the undead.

Voldemort is after us.

I turn to face him, kicking out to the right and impaling Death Eaters upon a row of spikes, blood trickling over stone.

He lashes out, arm flicking up and down in a dizzying pattern as he bombards the two of us with spell after spell.

Red, yellow, green, purple - a rainbow of death hissing and spitting as it cleaves through his own men, the Death Eaters shouting in horror as their own are cut down.

No wonder they're so afraid of him.

Fleur shields the two of us, a glowing barrier of translucent gold flashing angrily as spell after spell crashes against its surface.

Another crossbow bolt soars through the air, almost too fast to be seen as it clips Voldemort's cheek.

Roaring in anger he swishes his wand in a tight flourish, Hagrid letting out a surprised grunt as he's dragged through the crowd, bowling over Death Eaters and snarling undead in his wake.

A blade is embedded in his belly as he comes to a screaming halt, held in the air by Voldemort's magical grip.

Hagrid groans, hands scrabbling at the rusted sword that is stuck through his gut, sticking out of the base of his spine. His legs hang uselessly, ankles crumpled against the ground.

I fire off a spell but it's too late.

Voldemort twists his wand, Hagrid's neck snapping with a horrific crack. He laughs lazily as he summons one of his men in front of my spell, the underlings head exploding in a shower of gore.

He looks me in the eye as he draws his wand towards the sky, Hagrids neck stretching until it pops, pulled from his body along with most of his spine.

My world shatters, watching as Hagrids dull, beetle-black eyes gaze off into nothingness - his dying expression a pained gasp.

I clench my jaw so hard my teeth crack, crumbling and falling across my tongue. I spit them out, blinking away the red. "Bastard!" I shout, barely noticing as he carves off a slice of my left arm, a bloodless disc of flesh falling to the ground with a soft thump, shadow lashing angrily as it reforms.

My fists clench and unfurl, the movement twitchy, erratic, crazed.

I bombard Voldemort with spell after spell, a stream of invisible arrows screaming out from behind them.

Rip, tear, blood, feAst, DevoUR, kiLl, flAy, pR-

He jumps, snarling and bug eyed as a flower the size of a small man wraps itself around his waist and smashes him into the ground, head twisting and rolling about on his neck, boneless.

I march forward, fire spouting from my wand as he pulls himself together, freezing and smashing the plant that binds him before quickly rolling across the grass. Voldemort laughs madly as he grabs another Death Eater by the throat, throwing him into the way of the flames as he morphs into smoke and flies over us, disappearing into the heaving mass of bodies.

"After him," Fleur roars, a veritable tsunami bursting out before her and washing away friend and foe alike.

We sprint, feet slipping through the muck.

Flitwick is practically dancing as we pass by him, the man leaping to and fro as he throws men through the air, sending them falling to their deaths. He flies past us, taking a man's legs out from under him and shooting a rod of transfigured iron through his skull.

I smash my fist into a woman's gut, her whole body creaking as she's tossed backwards. "Move!"

We carve our way through the horde, following the sound of screaming laughter that seems to hang heavy above the static shrill of magic and the ungodly wails of dying men.

I can see red robes, Aurors having joined the fray, their spells mingling with Severus and Iolaire's as they mow down Death Eater after Death Eater. The duo standing back to back as they cut swathes through black robes, felling them like trees.

One of the Aurors spots us, face paling as he turns away, running towards where I assume Amelia to be.

As if she wouldn't come to fight.

Fleur directs me forward, pointing at the shuddering masses of blackened flesh that sway and gesture towards the castle, a thick burbling groan their only words.

It's enough.

:Come!: I cry out, a sonorous carrying my voice across the battlefield.

We keep running, Magna seemingly appearing out of nowhere as she comes up beside us.

Climbing atop her, we hang steady upon her skull, a stairway of bone rising up above the fighting mass and taking us high overhead.

I can see him from up here, gleefully bathing himself in the blood of his own men.

He's fallen into a frenzy, whistling through hooked teeth as he jabs his wand through one woman's eye, the back of her neck exploding outwards and drenching another Death Eater in her brains and spinal fluid.

That man is quickly cut down as well, Voldemort snatching an axe from the ground and driving it into the man's shoulder, swinging twice more and slicing him in half.

Pushing Magna forward, I summon the axe from his grip and leap off her head, slamming into a Death Eater and taking off half his face with one well placed swing before leaving the weapon buried halfway through his mouth, the blade chipped by broken molars as he screams wordlessly.

Pushing my magic out, I let tendrils of creeping black force themselves into the throats of the dead and dying, binding them to my will.

Men scream all around us as their friends rise, limbs hanging by threads of sinew and guts poking out of gaping holes in their chest, framed by snapped ribs and drooling hearts.

Fleur appears next to me, letting off a shock of light, spears of a blinding yellow peppering the ground next to Voldemort, a few of them striking true.

He grins as neat holes are cut through his body, blood soaking his robes, the others bouncing off his snake and scattering aimlessly.

Shame.

"Take this seriously!" he cries, an almost invisible shimmer pouring from his wand into the ground.

Everything shakes, the very earth cracking apart as a rift begins to form, splitting open in a jagged tear. Death Eaters and undead stumble, falling into the canyon, buried a dozen feet beneath soil and stone.

Magna throws herself at him, her massive skull smashing into the earth where he stands and burrowing into it like a worm. She bursts out of the ground a dozen metres away, Voldemort covered in filth and clinging to her teeth with a maddening grin upon his face.

We bound forward, ignoring the snarling animals that run headlong over the grass, maws bloodied as they search for more prey.

Fleur points her wand to the sky and lets out a shower of steaming acid, Voldemort throwing a lazy shield above his head as he holds on for dear life, letting the acrid substance run over the magical barrier and settle upon Magna's bones - scoring holes in her shifting spine.

My ears sting as Voldemort lets off a massive explosion, Magna's skull erupting in a terrible rain of shattered bone.

I hear a gasp from beside me, Fleur's breathing hurried - shocked.

Fuck.

Voldemort falls through the air, and he doesn't make a noise as I cut off his leg, the limb disappearing into the gaping maw that splits the earth.

An undead grabs him as he falls, teeth gnashing. He smashes it to pieces with a burst of coral light, bone flying every which way.

Grabbing one of the men next to him, he takes off their leg just above the knee, the Death Eater wailing.

Voldemort smashes the bloodied end of the limb against the neat stump of his thigh, wand passing over it and stitching the two together.

He jumps nimbly back to his feet, wand flashing and a dagger of blackened light spearing me through the gut.

I hiss, flinching as it bursts out of the small of my back, ignoring the pain as I rush forward.

Cackling, Voldemort continues firing spells. Some of them I dodge, some of them I don't, a portion of my calf rotting away at the touch of one of them.

Fleur shouts in pain from behind me, an ungodly amount of blood pouring from her shoulder. "I'm fine!" she gasps, seemingly unaffected by it.

Distracted, another spell shreds my hip, bone mulched as it grinds against it like a drill.

Magic is funneling through my body, frantic and terribly powerful.

The pain is nothing, the knitting of my flesh and regrowing of bone but an afterthought as I throw myself at Voldemort, hands stretched out.

He begins to laugh again, that laughter quickly turning into howls as his arm begins to crumble under my grasp, a void in my palm.

Voldemort tries to wrench himself away, agape as his left arm from the wrist down stays in my grasp, decomposing before his eyes.

I crush the withered appendage, ash slipping from between my fingers. "We match," I growl, snatching at the massive, hissing snake atop his shoulders and wrapping my hands around its body.

:Pain!: it shrieks, writhing and spitting. :Hurts!:

A wicked grin spreads across my face as Voldemort wrestles with me, horrified as his horcrux begins to fall apart, shriveling, it's body collapsing from the inside out.

It lets off a piteous scream as it scatters in the wind, Voldemort howling in anger as he jumps back, summoning another Death Eater and carving the offending limb from the woman's body, scrambling away as he tries to stitch it onto himself as he did his leg.

Nothing.

Wide eyed, Voldemort lets off another terrible flurry of spells, panic stricken as he rushes backwards.

"Damnit!" I roar, an earthen wall bursting from the ground and shielding us haphazardly from the mortar barrage of spellfire.

Chunks of stone bruise my arms and torso as the wall shatters, a congealed slab of crumbling soil smashing against the side of my head and leaving me dizzy, blinking away the mirrored corpses that sway before me.

Fleur shouts in anger as the man disappears, nothing but a whirl of smoke in his wake, the milky substance flying off towards Hogsmeade at a breakneck pace. "Fuck!" She lets loose a whirlwind of fire and water, the sky lighting up and misting over as the water flashes to steam. "Fuck!"

"Hey," I stumble forward, head swimming. "We're fine, we're good."

She curses, feathers bristling. "He got away!"

"We couldn't have killed him anyways."

Hissing, she spits on the ground, sending a baleful glare towards the horizon. "Fucking coward."

I ignore the shouts of retreat as I place my hand against her back, feathers pressing down roughly as I both balance myself and comfort her. "Let me see your shoulder."

Fleur clenches her jaw, the skin of her cheek pulling sharply over bone. She turns, showing me that her arm hangs loose, nearly the entire shoulder sloughed off at the joint.

More blood than is natural pours from the gaping wound, a miniature river of crimson dripping from her arm to the ground, her clothes plastered to her flank and soaked through.

"Shit, it's pretty bad."

She shrugs, only one shoulder pulling up, the other just flexing where it joins the neck. "I've got it."

Kneeling, she grabs a handful of grass and presses it against the wound, running her wand over it as skin begins to reshape - pale white tendons slipping back over the joint as bone grows from nothing.

Her wrist works in tight circles as her shoulder slowly returns to shape, the flesh bright pink and horribly tender.

"See?" she huffs. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, I just- that was pretty bad."

Fleur looks me up and down. "You have a hole in your gut, and your leg is gangrenous."

I glance over myself, surprised. "I can barely even feel it."

"You're not bleeding, either. Not at all."

Running my finger over the flayed skin of my belly, I pull it away to see nothing but flecks of torn flesh. "We're getting worse. You're bleeding- "

Fleur places her hand on my shoulder, a faint smile upon her lips. "I bleed enough to make up for your lack of. Worry about it later, we still have to worry about McGonagall and the Aurors."

"Shit." I look up to see our fighters, the lot of them watching as the Death Eaters run for the hills. Both Aurors and undead chase after them, and I recognize Amelia's short steely hair, robes billowing around her - unbothered by the rattling bones

I take a moment to mend my wounds, relief washing over me as the black patch creeping over my leg starts to recede - the hole in my belly slowly closing up.

We trudge forward, surveying the damage.

There are so many dead, the grass strewn with corpses and glistening organs - such a terribly bright red as the cold afternoon sun shines down from above. The grass is soaked, a deep glimmering crimson that seems to stretch out towards the horizon.

Some of them are still moaning, arms feebly reaching towards the sky and praying for salvation.

I walk over muddied corpses, firing shots of air from the tip of my finger into the heads of Death Eaters that still cling to life, silencing them. Fleur does the same, jets of light spearing through skulls as she walks alongside me.

I stop, horrified for a brief moment as I look down at Flitwick, his mouth agape and chin coated in blood.

"Oh."

He seems to have been cut in half, a long trail of pink innards splayed out across the grass along with the remnants of his breakfast - half digested sausage and eggs buried in blood and garnished with the splintered remains of his wand.

I stand there for what seems like a lifetime, studying the way the dirt clings to his cheeks, so terribly pale. His moustache, coated in grime, fingers crooked, snapped and pointed at odd angles. Bloodshot eyes halfway pushed out of their sockets stare into me - blaming me for his death.

Apologies can always come later.

"Potter. Delacour."

"Amelia."

She tilts her head, gaze boring into me. "What are you two doing here?"

"Protecting the school." Fleur crosses her arms. "Aren't you going to back up your Aurors?"

Amelia laughs. "I think they've got things under control, your… loyal men are helping them."

"Amelia," McGonagall interjects, wand pointed towards us. "Why aren't you arresting them?"

"Them? Really, Minerva? You just saw them lay waste to half an army, and you'd like me to arrest them? After I've already tried and failed… what, how many times is it now?"

"Three."

"Three times I've failed to take them in. My men have died trying. I've- " she seems to choke up for a moment, her stony facade pulling away just a sliver. "Too many have died. If they're not attacking us. If they're protecting us? Fuck it, let them have Voldemort."

Aghast, McGonagall looks between us. "You can't be serious."

"Calm down," Moody says, forcing himself into the conversation, his marbled eye locked onto me all the while. "Amelia's right."

I find myself laughing this time. "Mad Eye Moody, letting us go?"

"Don't test your luck." He points his wand at the two of us. "Now go. If I see you again, that'll be your head."

Fleur stares him down, feathers slowly falling from her skin and settling over the ground. "Let's go."

My body aches, the pain now catching up with me. I can feel the lethargy that has sunken deep into my bones, pain of the heart and pain of the body alike weighing me down.

I look down to see Fleur's hand, caked in blood and dirt. I take it, and she turns us towards the castle.

"Don't you dare," Moody snarls, an exploding hex throwing up bloodsoaked sod as it impacts the ground near our feet.

The drumming has quieted, the war march of the damned fading away into the background.

I don't want this.

"I'm checking on my friends, Moody. I'd suggest you back away."

I almost find myself sighing as he runs towards us, no less nimble for lack of a flesh and blood leg.

Paranoid and as close to insanity as anyone can be, I just don't have it in me to kill the man. There's been enough death today.

Reaching out, my hand closes into a fist, Moody jumping out of the way as an earthen coffin begins to form around him.

Before he can hit the ground Fleur has speared him through the gut on a root, the man striking the ground painfully and his wand slipping from his grasp.

Bile stings my throat, my hands waver - barely - but there. "You're old, Moody. I killed Dumbledore, we fought Voldemort to a standstill. Did you really think you could take us on?"

He pushes himself off the wooden spear, blood dripping from his mouth. "You won't go near those students," he rasps.

I lift him into the air upon a cushion of wind, feet leaving heavy marks in the mud as I walk towards him. "Enough," I growl, grabbing him by the throat and hoisting him up, legs kicking uselessly as he chokes.

My fingers press tighter, grip tightening as he gasps and splutters, drool running down his chin. The drums start to pick up tempo, a furious beat building at the back of my mind.

Fleur deflects a stunner sent by McGonagall, sending it crashing back into the woman with a resounding bang. She flies backwards, rolling across the grass.

Moody kicks me in the chest, opening the wound nestled between my ribs just a touch more.

"What?" I ask, tilting my head. "Nothing? That's it?" I throw him to the ground, Moody grunting as he strikes the ground. He hacks and spits, painting the already drenched grass with even more flecks of blood.

He snarls, moving to stand up - but there's a flash of red and Moody is stunned.

Amelia's wand is pointed at him, trembling. We lock eyes, just for a moment, and I can feel the drums begin to quiet again, a discontent among the voices of the damned - never sated, never enough.

Thank you, I mouth.

"Severus, Iolaire," I shout, the two men unfazed by the display. "It was good seeing you."

Severus raises his hand, Iolaire giving us a stiff nod.

"Take care," Fleur echoes, leading us towards the school.

My body aches, unshed tears swimming behind my eyes as we do our best to avoid showing how badly we've been hurt, how far we've been pushed.

There's still a touch of rot upon my leg. Still a thumb sized gap between my ribs, running towards my back in an even line.

He certainly was strong.

If not for that fear that suddenly overtook him, I don't think we'd have walked away from that fight in one piece.

"We got lucky."

Fleur hums. "We did."

Silence falls over us as we tiredly make our way up flight after flight of stairs, the Room of Requirement slowly growing closer.

That ridiculous painting comes into view, Barnabas aghast as tutu garbed trolls dance gleefully around him.

I chuckle, the first honest laugh that's come out of me in a long time. Not one fueled by bloodshed but instead by something silly, fanciful.

It hurts.

The door flickers, slowly appearing, and I can't help but hope that Hogwarts herself is trusting us.

I knock twice.

No sound comes through, but after a moment the door slowly opens. "Helene?" I hear, quiet and fearful.

"We're here."

A sigh of relief, the door fully thrown open to reveal Hermione, Ginny, and Luna clustered near the front of a massive crowd.

The room is packed full of rubbish and miscellaneous knicknacks as far as the eye can see, stretching off into nothingness.

"They're gone."

Some of the students let out worried gasps, others looking sick as they set eyes upon us. Hermione, Ginny, Luna… they pull away, faces turning green.

"I… is everything okay?"

"You're- " Ginny gags. "You're covered in blood."

"We fought."

They sidle past us, walking out the door and making space for the rest of the students to file out, most of them rushing out the door and getting away from Fleur and I as fast as they possibly can.

I stand there, blood dripping from my hands onto yellowed stone.

The price we pay.

The girls keep their distance, unsure of whether to flee or cling to me - conflicted. It's easy to see, how their shoulders pull inward. How Luna tucks herself behind Ginny, hand grasping her arm so tightly that her knuckles are white, cloth wrinkled beneath her fingers.

Hermione is pale, shivering at the sight of the glore that clings to our clothes.

Ginny's gaze is cast to the floor, before it quickly turns away. Away from us, away from the blood that continues to fall from my fingers.

"You're scared."

Hermione nods, shaking and hesitant. "Y- yes."

"I'd never hurt you."

"I know." She seems to shake, unable to tear her eyes away from us. "But- "

"We scare you."

Another nod.

"I… just- we're at…" I can feel my shoulders sagging. "Okay."

They walk away, hurried, Luna casting one last hurried look behind her as they round the corner.

Fleur sighs from beside me. "They'll… they'll be fine. Warm up to us once all this is over."

I laugh at her feeble attempt to comfort me. "No they won't."

She wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me against her. "We have each other."

"We do." I smile softly, pressing a kiss against her blood-soaked shoulder. "I- "

A tickle at my mind, a little voice - so small, so feeble - speaking in dulcet tones. My head snaps to the right, towards the Room.

"There's something in there."

Fleur glances into the Room as well, nose wrinkling. "It's…"

"A horcrux," we say in unison, rushing forward.

It's stacked high with boxes overflowing with misplaced goods, stuffed animals and crooked broomsticks poking out of half open chests stacked precariously on top of one another. Thousands of books are stacked along the walls in varying shapes and sizes, with no meaningful order to their maddening piles that reach towards the vaunted ceiling.

"This way," Fleur points, directing us down a narrow corridor of hand-me-downs and cheap trinkets.

We run forward, scattering piles of who knows what as we search for the horcrux.

A turn left, a turn right, forward, around - we snake in and out of this maze of rubbish until we find ourselves face to face with a small romanesque bust sat atop another precarious stack of books - a diadem adorning its crown.

"It's different," Fleur says, eyes alight. "There's something - I don't know. I can't quite place it."

I look it over, fine silver wings curling around a lone sapphire, the head of an eagle resting at the top.

"Ravenclaw's Diadem… it's been missing for - god, I don't know how long, but… it's been here the whole time?"

Fleur gestures to the room around us. "Not entirely easy to find."

"No. Not without a bloodhounds nose."

She snorts. "Funny."

I reach forward, fingers trembling as I siphon the absolutely miniscule sliver of Voldemort that rests within the sapphires confines, the remnant of his soul almost frail.

A black smoke leaks from where stone meets silver, falling from gaps in the filigree. It coils around my hand and I bite into it without hesitation, sucking down the almost frigid substance, letting it settle in my belly and slip through my veins.

It goes without a fight, too tired, too insignificant to even muster a dying squeal as it's assimilated into my body.

Fleur takes the diadem from the bust with hesitation, fingers tracing over its surface. "Life made this," she states, unequivocal. "It's… I just know."

Her hand passes over it, the metal shimmering until the eagle at the crown shifts into the image of a raven, wings growing more wicked - pointed and angry.

"It was a gift."

Life stands beside us, looking down at the jewelry. "A gift in the image of my lover. His birds, you see."

Fleur snarls reflexively. "Go."

She smiles, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly. "Okay."

And she disappears as if she was never there.

"Bitch," Fleur spits, lifting the diadem over her head and placing it there atop muddied hair and globs of mulched flesh.

"We should rest."

"Yeah." Her hand still hangs in the air, fingertips dancing over silver. "We should."

Fleur's lips crash against mine, diadem crashing to the floor as the blood of strangers mingles with spit and grime. She clings to my back, shoulders, hips, ass, fingernails tracing angry lines through my clothes.

Huffing, Fleur tears at them, sweater ripping in two as she pries it apart at the throat and runs her hands over my chest.

My fingers find themselves tangled in her hair, shadowed limbs pulling from my spine and ripping her own clothes apart, letting them fall to the floor in a wet heap.

She hoists me into her lap, settling back against a stack of boxes. Her wand appears, vanishing my trousers and pants as she thrusts one hand between my legs, hand pressing tightly against short curls.

I gasp, eyes dancing behind shuttered lids as she leans down, tongue tracing across my sternum. I can feel as her tongue presses against the wound at my ribs, how her fingers thrust up so wonderfully deep.

She tongues at the inside of me, back hunched as she lays wet trails of her love across fat and naked muscle, skin still shorn from battle.

My body shudders, legs wrapping around her back as she pulls away from the gaping wound, knees pressed tight against her ribs.

I scream out as she latches onto my neck, biting and gnashing and licking and pressing and pulling and-

She tugs on my hair, a fistful of it dragging my head back and revealing more of my throat. Her thumb presses hard against my centre, fingers angled and pressing just right.

"Fuck!"

I wail, Fleur's arm wrapping around my back and holding me up, my hair trailing across the stone.

She cradles me, murmuring in my ear and pressing featherlight kisses against my throat. "Let's go," she whispers, another kiss ghosting over my lips.