Disclaimer: I do not own Witch Hunter Robin or Harry Potter.

A/N: OMG, I updated. A million apologies for not updating sooner, especially with the last chapter's cliff hanger. I hope that those who have read the story have enjoyed it, and many thanks to those who have reviewed the story. This was my first fanfiction, and I'm really grateful for the response. After what I think has been a couple months, here are the last two chapters. Again, sorry for the wait, but I hope it was somewhat worth it.

Chapter 15: Illusion of Victory

Amon looked on as Robin tried to figure out a way to bandage his wounds. Split between fumbling with the bandages and openly staring at his chest, Robin still had not managed to make any progress. Smiling slightly, Amon reached over and took the bandages from Robin. "I can handle this." Robin didn't fight him and instead focused on her leg.

To say that he had done this before would be an understatement. Amon had always taken care of his own wounds, usually with little difficulty. As well as he was trained to break bones, he also learned how to set them properly, though he used the latter talent more on himself than on anyone he was fighting. However, Amon couldn't help but wince when wrapping his torso.

Three broken ribs to be sure, possibly some damage to the sternum. He'd never seen a power as violent as that, much less felt it. If Robin hadn't burned the gashes shut, he was sure his fate would have been no different than that of the witch lying a few hundred feet away. The amount of blood the human body possessed never failed to surprise him.

He tightened the bandages and gently smoothed out the front before tying the final loop around his waist. He wondered if these wounds would ever heal.

Amon felt a hand ruffle his hair as if he were a dog. Amon looked up and glared at Nagira.

The man was grinning as usual. "Had enough alone time?"

Unwilling to risk anymore injury or to show his brother that he was hurt worse than he was admitting, Amon decided not to fix his hair. "What is it?"

"Just wondering how my otouto was faring."

"What did you really come here for?"

Nagira sighed and took a closer look at Amon's forehead, which was still bloody from Voldemort's attempt to pull his hair out. "I was wondering what you guys and the other hunters decided on doing after this."

"We haven't talked about it yet."

"I'd get on that. It's easier for me to do this as quickly as possible. That is, unless you plan on staying here."

Amon glanced up at Nagira then back over at Robin. "I'll let you know soon."

Much to Amon's chagrin, Nagira continued to try to fix his scalp. With little else he could do, he looked around the Great Hall, now riddled with holes and claw marks. Even the sky had a dusty overcast shadowing what had occurred below.

Amidst the rubble, the witches were attending to each other's wounds. The red-haired couple was reprimanding the children, though the father looked as though he were praising them. The convict was talking to the young boy, presumably about him murdering Voldemort. Amon mentally reminded himself to keep a closer eye on the boy. The pink-haired witch was dumping extra robes on top of the werewolf, who had been unsuccessfully trying to hide his modesty with only the old witch's robe. The old witch was still, more or less, talking business with some of the other witches. Karasuma had more or less settled both of the boys down, only to get an onslaught of questions from the two hunters. He always knew she was the most useful member of the group.

Trying to hide his amusement, Amon turned to where the doors of the Great Hall were. It only took a second for him to recognize two shadows running from column to column. It unfortunately took them just as long to recognize they were seen.

Crashing windows notified him of the siege in the back. The witches were panicking and starting to run for the opening of the Great Hall. They were running straight into a trap.

Amon quickly grabbed Robin's arm. "Make a barrier between us and the opening."

"But they're coming from - "

"Robin." She nodded and sent a wall of fire between the hole where Voldemort attacked and where the witches were running. They all stopped and tried to gauge whether or not Robin was still being controlled by another.

A one-man applause echoed in the hall. The Solomon agents at the windows ceased their movements and stood with their guns trained on the witches.

"I guess I should give you some credit, Amon. After all, you were trained by the best. Though you may have given yourself a little time, you know this wall won't stop us."

Zaizen and an army of Solomon agents walked through the flames, their orbo necklaces glowing and bubbling. The witches stood in horror as the flames seemed to part for the new intruders.

Amon's stomach clenched. Through sheer force of will, he had managed to break Voldemort's arm and tackle Robin. But that rush of adrenaline was all but depleted. He was struggling to keep his eyes open. He would not be able to fend off an entire army of Solomon agents.

He put his hand on the floor to steady himself. Nagira's grip on his shoulder was probably the only thing preventing him from falling over. He glanced around at all of the possible exits.

"We have everything covered." Zaizen was looking straight at Amon. "There's no point in thinking up some miraculous scheme to overtake us. Every single one of you used whatever strength you had left in that last fight. Even if you find or make an exit, you couldn't run away fast enough."

The old witch made a step forward. "Who are you?"

Zaizen grinned at the old man. "I am the leader of the STN-J, and I'm here to eradicate your kind." Without looking back at the Solomon agents, he turned to look at Amon straight in the eyes. "Fire at will."

Both of the old witch's arms spread out to each side of the room. "Immobilis." Amon barely had time to register the triggers being pulled before he saw the bullets fall to the ground.

Zaizen looked less than pleased. "Prepare for close combat. Fire only when you get in point blank range."

Amon watched the agents walk forward in no particular hurry to send the witches and hunters to their deaths. They wouldn't rush through the execution. They'd make sure to hold the line to avoid any escapes.

The curses sent flying from the witches were bouncing off of their bodies. Amon looked at his gun. Bullets would have a different effect. "Karasuma!"

Shaking herself out of a trance, she turned quickly to Amon, who had his gun drawn, though he was barely able to keep his arm up to aim it. The recoil from a shot would be more than his body would be able to stand.

Karasuma got in position with Sakaki, kneeling in front of Michael. "Open fire."

Karasuma and Sakaki concentrated their fire on the agents closing in from the back, while Nagira and Doujima started firing on those in the front.

Nagira's grip on Amon tightened. "Tell me if you see anything important going on in the back."

Amon shifted a little to watch Karasuma and Sakaki. "Are you trying to make me feel better about not being able to fire my weapon?"

Nagira grabbed Amon's gun as backup. "You'll know before any of us if they start doing something sneaky. But if you want to see it like that, be my guest."

Nagira's frustrated groan attracted Amon's attention to his brother. "Something I should know?"

"There are craft users among the Solomon ranks, and they're blocking our bullets. Any luck in the back?"

Amon glanced behind. "A little more, but similar results."

"This could get dirty if no one can attack except at close contact. How are your agents in hand-to-hand combat?"

"With the exception of Michael and Robin, they're sufficient. I can't say as much about the witches, though."

"You may be right about that." Nagira paused. "Should we keep firing?"

Amon could barely feel his legs. "We'll be at a disadvantage otherwise."

"I think we'll be in an even worse position when we run out of bullets. How many clips do you have left?"

"Not enough to sustain firing for as long as you're talking about."

"Then I guess we don't have a choice." Nagira lowered his gun and stood up, carefully picking up Amon in the process. "Cease fire."

Doujima, Karasuma and Sakaki stopped the barrage of bullets, but didn't lower their weapons in case one of the agents decided to be the hero and start firing before getting any closer.

Nagira grabbed Amon's arm and wrapped it across his neck. "Are we better off scattered or as a group?"

"We'll be better off spread apart. It'll be more likely for hunters to shoot each other with only one or two people in between them than having a group huddled together. That and it's doubtful the others would be willing to use anyone as a human shield."

"Not unless we get our hands on one of those agents."

"That'll be unlikely for most of the people here."

Nagira sighed. "Always the pessimist."

Amon tried to shift himself into another position that didn't make his arm feel like Nagira was dislocating it. The extra movement only made it worse. "Nagira, put me down."

Nagira looked worriedly at Amon before placing him back down on the ground. "You gonna be okay, otouto?"

Amon tried to stop the swimming images in front of him. He wouldn't close his eyes. He doubted they would open again if he did.

Zaizen continued his march with the other agents, who barely suffered any losses. Their footsteps echoed through Amon's skull, each footfall pounded louder and longer than the one before. He barely felt a brief shake of his shoulder. He looked at Nagira who was asking him something, but the footsteps were drowning out the words.

Nagira looked worried. When was the last time they talked? Had they ever acted like brothers? They never spent much time together. Their attitudes were so dissimilar that spending any longer than 10 minutes in the same room would lead to some sort of argument. Then why did he care?

Both of Nagira's hands were on his shoulders and the forcefulness of the shaking and the rapid movements of his jaw told Amon that he was yelling. Amon could no longer lift his arms, even if he wanted to knock his hands away or console him.

Nagira abruptly turned away from Amon, yelling something indecipherable and raising the gun. Bullets began to fly again and now broken tables and pieces of the wall, windows and ceiling joined the bullets in hitting the intruders.

Amon could barely make out Nagira's face much less which bullets belonged to which side. Everything was just a collection of blurs. Amon blinked slowly, careful to reopen them again as quickly as possible. The image in front of him didn't improve.

A bullet hit Nagira's hand, knocking away the gun and their only protection. Nagira wrenched his other hand away from Amon to grab the gun only to have it kicked away by one of the agent's feet.

Amon's hand twitched. He couldn't move to save his brother. He was trained to take down witches for the majority of his life, and now he couldn't move to disarm a man who would normally have been no threat to him.

The butt of a pistol smashed against the helmet of the agent. Doujima's face was blurred but the movement of her arms was frantic. She pulled on Nagira's collar to drag him away from another wave of bullets. Nagira turned back to Amon, but stopped in mid-turn, staring just beyond Amon's side.

A little relieved that Nagira was safe and that he had somehow managed to stay upright, Amon's hope fell when he saw an agent running his way, gun drawn.

A black curtain blocked his view. His eyes widened.

He loved her hair and was glad that he had inherited that above all of the other features. She said that boys should wear their hair short, but he always wanted his to be a little longer, just so it would mirror hers. She stopped asking him to cut it.

Puzzles were never hard for Amon. It had been easy for him to complete all of the puzzles during a break. He didn't really understand why everyone was so surprised by this, but she said she was proud of him. He never asked why.

They moved a lot. She never gave him a reason, only that it was time to move on. It was never a long trip. It was usually only a city or two away. She said it was far enough. He'd follow her, even if it were to another country.

Her black dress blocked him from the men. She was screaming. Some of the men were flung to the wall. She wouldn't look at him. Her hair twirled in the wind that she was creating. He loved her hair. He reached for the tip of her hair when it flew back to where he could reach it. A gust of wind hit him in the stomach, and he crashed into the dresser. She didn't turn around.

The splatter of blood on his face made everything red. She wouldn't move. Her hair was pasted down on her face and back. He tugged on a piece of her dress. One of the men grabbed her, dumping her over his shoulder as if it were a carcass of an animal. His eyes went black.

Nagira stared at his brother. A moment ago he was shaking Amon's shoulders trying to wake him up. He had lost a lot of blood and his lack of eating over the past few days probably didn't help him. Amon had been on the verge of passing out. Nagira shakily stood up. Amon's hand had just ripped out the throat of the agent in front of Robin.

A dozen more agents also saw this happen and ran toward Amon and Robin. She was hugging him and chanting something. Amon turned his head toward the other agents. His eyes were black, even the white in his eyes were gone. His mouth moved, and the agents were swallowed by their shadows.

Nagira suppressed the urge to cheer at Amon's handy timing in awakening his powers. He looked over to the progress in the back to see the agents screaming and struggling against their own shadows. It swallowed the surrounding light and ripped away the orbo necklaces. Some of the agents merely fell into the dark abyss while others fought against the arms, only to instead have an arm or leg ripped off.

Doujima's grip on Nagira tightened. Everyone had stopped in their tracks. The Weasleys were hugging the children, trying to cover their eyes. Dumbledore was shaking. Tonks buried her head into one of Remus' many robes. Blood was dripping off of Karasuma and Sakaki. Their backs were turned, but their posture was ramrod straight.

Nagira whipped his head to the front of the hall where the other agents were suffering the same fate. Multiple hands from other shadows were on Zaizen pulling in every direction. Nagira grabbed Doujima and quickly turned her face toward his chest. He closed his eyes but still heard the scream and the disgusting popping sound. He eased Doujima onto the floor. Nagira glanced at the blood stain on the floor. Not every villain gets a word in before he dies.

Robin's voice drew his attention back to Amon. Her chanting became clearer. It wasn't a spell. She was asking him to stop. She placed her hands on his shoulders and tried to get closer to his ears. Her shadow became disfigured and reached out for her.

Nagira jumped up and ran over. "Robin, get out of the way."

A black arm grabbed his wrist and jerked him away from them. The shadow wrapped its arms around Robin's waist, pulling her down. She desperately swung her arms around Amon's neck, her fingers barely interlocking with one another. The shadow continued to drag her down.

"Amon!" Robin's voice didn't seem to be reaching him. He stared blindly at her face, his black eyes reflecting none of the light in the room.

Nagira grimaced as his shadow pulled harder. He could feel the bones of his wrist being crushed underneath the pressure. He turned to his brother regardless of the pain behind him.

Robin's screaming became louder and her hold on Amon was lessening. He saw the other hunters running and being caught before they reached her. Sakaki and Karasuma struggled to help Michael against his shadow while they tried to keep themselves upright at the same time. Doujima was quickly losing her footing against the arms around her leg and forced her heel into a crevice for more support.

Nagira clenched his teeth. Amon's powers continued to devour the Solomon agents, but his face showed no happiness nor crazed hunger for power. He simply looked as though he had given up.

Nagira was seven when he was told he had a younger brother.

He imagined all the games they would play when he got there. He'd teach him how to manipulate their father and mother to get what they wanted. He'd tell him about the secret stash of pocky he hid under the floorboards. He'd have someone who would look up to him like he did his father. He'd have someone to take care of when no one else was around.

Nagira was nine when he was told he would never see his brother.

He fought, like he always did. It was in his early twenties when he tracked him down, but when he got there, there was nothing but an empty shell. He had been too late. He hadn't fought hard enough to reach him. At that moment, he promised himself that he would never stop trying.

Nagira raised his head. He could see Amon's face so clearly. The indignant glares at his comments. The upturned corner of his mouth at something funny. The softening of his eyes when he looked at Robin.

The hunters were yelling beside him as their hands were losing their grip on Michael. Doujima's heel broke, and she landed hard on her knee, gripping whatever she could with her hands. Robin's hands slipped from around Amon's neck, and she fell backward, her arms outstretched toward him.

He would never see his brother again.

Ignoring the loud crack of his wrist, he yelled, charging at Amon and punching him across the face with his good arm. Robin fell on the ground, and the hunters fell forward from the sudden loss of force. Nagira fell on his knees and stared at Amon.

He wasn't unconscious, though Nagira expected as much. The hit had been hard, and he hadn't held anything back, but Amon wouldn't go down easily. Amon glanced over at Nagira, his eyes the normal shade of gray. He flinched, brought his hand up to his cheek and glared at his older brother.

Nagira sighed. "Serves you right, and what did I say about that not working on me."

Amon sat up and looked around. His eyes widened suddenly, and Nagira jumped up and blocked his view of the surroundings.

"Everything's over now. We're all safe."

Amon's mouth moved a few times. "Nagira - "

"Everything will be fine. We'll figure something out." He placed his hand on top of Amon's head and grinned. "I always think of something."

Nagira could hear hesitant footsteps behind him.

"Is it safe?" The old witch still had a shaky voice.

Nagira turned around. All of the witches were staring. For the first time, the children looked frightened and held on to their respective relatives. Everyone seemed to be gripped onto someone else for support. "You don't have to worry about anything."

Sirius stood in front of Harry. "How can we be sure of that? How do we know he won't go berserk again."

"We don't." Nagira didn't bother looking over. "We'll put as much faith in him as we do with every other witch."

"That isn't good enough." Sirius' eyes hardened. "I can't accept merely having faith in him when he almost killed his own teammates."

Karasuma glared at Sirius. "All craft-users cannot control their powers at first, especially when we have no teacher to guide us. That only gets harder when the witch awakens later in life. But Amon is a fast learner. This won't happen again."

"Your blind faith is touching, but you're not giving me any reason to believe you."

Remus looked up at Sirius and smiled faintly, still ragged from the transformation earlier. "There are no concrete reasons to believe in anyone or anything. You do or you don't. It's a decision you choose on your own."

"Don't go philosophical on me, Remus. You wouldn't be saying that if one of the kids got caught in the middle of his outburst."

Looking sadly over at Amon, Remus tugged at the robes to look at a scar on his wrist. "I couldn't offer you, James or Lily a reason to have faith in me. To believe that I wouldn't hurt anyone."

"You had more control," Sirius barked. "Don't compare the two."

"But there's always that chance that something bad could happen." Remus stared at Sirius. "A missed potion, what happened two years ago. There is always a chance that I could lose control and hurt someone."

Tonks gripped Remus' robes. "You're stronger than that."

Remus' eyes brightened, but he didn't smile. "Can you say that it will never happen? Or is it because I'm your friend?" He looked at Sirius. "Do you honestly see a difference between our situations?"

Sirius furrowed his brow, but turned his head aside. "You had us to help you. To make sure that nothing would ever go wrong."

Karasuma looked at the two men. "And Amon will have us."

Robin reattached herself to Amon, and Nagira couldn't help chuckling. Her blush returned, though she looked worriedly at Amon. "I'll help him. As the Eve I should be able to do something with calming crafts."

Nagira smiled. "As the Eve you have other duties as well, though I suppose that still requires Amon's skills."

Robin looked at him questioningly, while Amon tried to lose eye contact with everyone in the room. "Nagira." Despite Amon's obvious discomfort, his arm tightened around Robin.

Sakaki helped Michael up. "I don't understand. How did you know punching him was going to stop the craft?"

Nagira turned to Sakaki. "I didn't."

Doujima coughed. "That's comforting."

"What was I supposed to do? Hug him?" He turned to Amon. "You want a hug?"

"Stay away from me, Nagira."

"Thought as much."

Karasuma brushed off her skirt. "I actually thought Robin would have been the one to stop him."

Doujima turned to her. "Isn't it always supposed to end with a kiss?"

Robin blushed. "I...I couldn't reach."

Amon closed his eyes tiredly. "Robin, don't listen to them."

Nagira stood up and looked around. The witches were hugging each other, the parents almost strangling the children. "I think we need to get fixed up...again." He sighed and turned back to Amon. "C'mon. Let's get you up."

Robin removed her arms so Nagira could place himself under Amon's shoulder.

Amon turned slightly. "Arigatou, aniki."

"Aa. Anytime."