xi. Either must die
As young and old filed out of the conference, Harry felt relief that he hadn't been asked why Voldemort wanted a five-on-five duel rather than a simple single combat with Harry. Moody had offered the supposition that You-Know-Who was thinking of taking Hogwarts from within (after his expected dueling victory) and wanted the support of allies in that fight. His first move, the old Auror went on, would probably be to get to the dungeons and release all the Death Eater POW. Ron concurred, and began talking about a counterstrategy. A strategy which would only go into effect if he were dead, if we all were dead, Harry thought.
Harry knew that wasn't Voldemort's reason for inviting Lucius and the rest. The Dark Lord had taken pleasure in telling Harry the real purpose, and had even offered -- with no mental pressure required on Harry's part, just as a 'gift' -- a method by which Harry could thwart it. You would never have seen that yourself, would you, Potter? And even now that you know it, you can't use it, or even tell your friends that it exists. Voldemort laughed at Harry's dilemma, and went on laughing into his mind until the sound become a kind of background noise which Harry was able to ignore. That process took hours.
James and Lily did not laugh, of course, but they did not seem supportive at first of their son's decision.
"If I tell them what Voldemort is planning," Harry pleaded, "I know what will happen; even if I don't give the counter, Ron will see it. It will be like in first year, the chessboard--" Harry thought of Ron talking with Moody just before, eyes gleaming as he worked out moves and countermoves. "He'll see how the sacrifice will put me in position to win, he'll jump at it--"
"And isn't that what you were so proud of us for, Harry?" his father said, "that we would have died for each other, that's what made us different from Peter--"
"It isn't the same thing, Dad! You didn't have the chance I have, I know how to beat him, if I'm strong enough I will beat him, that way Ron doesn't have to die, nobody else has to die for me. Don't you believe I'm strong enough?"
"Together with your friends, Harry," Lily said, "I know you are."
"That's not what I'm asking, Mom."
"Did you win any of these battles here by yourself, Harry?" asked James.
Why were they refusing to give him a straight answer? "This is different, this is a duel. You have to tell me you think I can win, otherwise how can I... I don't think I can go in there if you don't--"
"Shh, shh. Of course, darling. Of course you can"
"You know we believe in you, son. It will be all right. It will work out in the end."
"OK, ok then." Harry felt satisfied by this statement of faith. He went on to seek reassurance on another question. "Way back last year when I was talking to Bandhit about facing Voldemort, he kept saying I should make it 'impersonal.' Not get caught up in the taunting, or in answering the taunting, not to think of the pleasure he gets from destroying people, not to dream about the look on his face when I get him. He said to just think of him as a disease, said 'You don't have to have your vengeance on a disease, and you don't have to take what it says seriously. You just do your best to get rid of it so it doesn't cause any more pain or death.' " Harry paused.
"Go on, Harry" his father said.
"Thing is, I can't do that," Harry confessed. "No matter how many of the exercises I do, I can't think of it that way. When Ginny and I were in the Defense room, after I sensed he was knocked out, after only -- what was it, four seconds? five seconds? That's nothing for when he's on the other side, doing the cursing, then it's fifteen seconds minimum, and that's for his followers when they 'displease' him. For his enemies, no limit. And I thought, I thought I hated him before, but now, this tops it all, that he just falls down crying because he can't take a fraction of a fraction of what he gives out... I was screaming at him, 'Get up you wanker, you piss-pants coward, I've got plenty more for you.' And I was really on the verge of doing it again, even though I didn't have to, even though it would have hurt me so badly, as long as it was even more intolerable to him it would be worth it. Does that make me crazy?"
"You know we would never call you that, son," said his father.
"Evil? Because--"
"Absolutely not," his mother insisted.
"...because it sounds now like I'm being the cartoon villain, the cackling sadist--"
"I think it shows, Harry," said James, "that you aren't cut out to for the detached, philosophical life, the life of a sage. Not everybody is. Sirius and I weren't. But right now, the wizarding world doesn't need a sage."
"OK."
"And another reason you didn't go through with it," Lily said, "was that you didn't want to give further pain to Ginny, if she saw you do that to yourself. And that brings up another point we need to make," Lily said.
"I know, Mum"
"There's not much point now in keeping a distance because of what the military situation requires--"
"I know, Dad."
"...or because your feelings are still uncertain. They aren't, are they?"
"No, Mum."
"Can you go in to the duel with anything unsaid that needs to be said, anything not done that needs to be done?"
"No, Dad."
"Alright, Harry. I'm looking forward to seeing some fast moves and some quick progress."
"James!"
"On a spiritual level, dear."
And I've got to keep her brother from killing himself for me, or I won't be able to look her in the face again, he thought, though he did not share this thought with his parents.
----------
There was so much to do the next day: last-minute practice, last-minute preparations, last-minute -- just in case! -- goodbyes. There was also the service for Luna, which Moody wanted to put off to give time for further drill. The officers were having none of that, and the memorial went forward. The adults were not invited, none of them having really known her, even McGonnagal, and the officers were afraid their elders would set Neville off by muttering time spells (the wizard equivalent of conspicuously staring at one's watch). Harry had a quick waking nightmare that he would be kept running and running right up to the moment he raised his wand against Voldemort, and never have a chance to talk to her. At about 3 PM there seemed enough of a lull to let them catch their breath, and he urgently begged a private meeting. He didn't know how much time they would have, in either sense of that phrase, but he trusted that for now Ginny would supply the missing words and thoughts wherever needed in his rush of incomplete sentences.
"My parents said I couldn't leave things unsure," were his first words. "I reckon they're right."
"I think you are, too. You do understand some things better now, really."
"OK. You know I had -- thought I had reasons, maybe idiot reasons--"
"Let's not go through them now, Harry."
God bless you. "Right. I couldn't have gone through that yesterday, the Crucio, I don't think, with anybody but you. Ron, Hermione, they would have fought and glowered, and Neville or Luna--" Harry had to stop to get his voice back -- "they're brilliant, they're terrific friends, but, they aren't, don't--"
"But if you're going to be in that kind of pain, you want somebody with you, who you know, know for sure, loves you."
Harry took a moment to look at this girl, and another to make sure she was looking at him. "Ginny, you don't think it was just... one-sided, do you? If it was, what would that make me, for calling you in like that to watch me get tortured, and patch me up and hold me and then... send you off. If that was what I was, you couldn't feel that way about me, could you? Not you."
"I don't know, Harry. I like to think that I wouldn't, be like some girl under the influence--" Ginny took a deep breath now and didn't complete the sentence, and Harry realized what or who she was thinking of.
'You wouldn't. I know you, Ginny, you would spit in the eye of anybody who tried to use you like that. You would fight them."
Ginny nodded, settled herself, and looked Harry in the eye.
"All right, then," she said firmly, "the answer is, No, I don't think that you have no feelings for me. Now, we're going in to fight some dark wizards in a little while, so do you want to just leave it at that, as a double negative, or is there something you have to say to me now?"
Harry froze for a moment. There was something in the way she had said that which reminded him so much of her mother, it threw him quite off his game... Ginny shook her head in exasperation, then took his hands in hers.
"It doesn't have to be words," she said more softly, and he knew he couldn't expect and wouldn't deserve another or better chance. If this was going to substitute for the words he'd been let out of, he thought, he would have to mix into this kiss a delicate combination of passion and esteem, regret for lost time and eagerness to make up for it, wonder at being chosen, pride at being thought worthy of it... and if you go by Potions, he thought, I'm rubbish at this kind of measuring and mixing. But somehow this time -- he could tell from what he was hearing back from her in response -- he seemed to be doing quite well enough. When they finally broke apart, flushed and grinning, a thought came to Harry that might have seemed ominous but somehow didn't carry any gloom with it:
Whether I live through this or not, this is the last girl I'm ever going to kiss like that.
----------
It was seven p.m. The Headmasters' portraits explained the mechanics of arranging the duel: the Room of Requirement could transfigure itself into an appropriate hall, complete with a master judge who would have power to enforce the rules. The wards could be arranged to allow the dark wizards to portkey into that room only. But if those challengers did win, they would be able to open the door and invade the rest of Hogwarts. Thus final instructions went out to the Army of the Forbidden Forest, in conjunction with the members of the Order, about what to do if the first face they saw coming out of the Room of Requirement was not one of the five officers. They would have to prevent Voldemort from taking Hogwarts and turning its magic to his cause, from releasing the prisoners and rebuilding the Dark Army, an army that would then take complete control of a wizarding world demoralized by the loss of its last unconquered outpost and by the defeat and death of its promised savior.
Neville felt that he had to say something to the hundreds now assembled in the Great Hall. (It was after eight o'clock now.) "I know -- you all know," he said, "that if we wanted to, we wouldn't have to worry about the Death Eaters going back to their master." He paused in the dead silence. "And I'm proud of everybody here, and I know Luna would be, too, that even though we are all scared and we all owe them so much payback, nobody has even suggested it. I wouldn't have been able to go in there, I wouldn't have... been worth anything as a defender of Hogwarts, if Hogwarts was just the scene of anything as cold blooded as that." Harry immediately felt the rightness of this, and stepped forward to shout "Me neither!" and then Hermione gave her full-throated approval, then Ginny and Ron and dozens of voices were joining in all around the room. Neville asked for quiet, so he could continue. "But now, this is -- being chosen to be one of the Five Defenders--" and Neville choked out the last words, "I'll give every breath I have to make you proud of me too!" These words were delivered so thickly, so softly, they would never had been heard if the Great Hall had not been breathlessly silent, and they stayed silent for a moment as Neville wiped his eyes and stepped back to be embraced by his friends. Then Susan Bones cried out "You'll do it, Neville!" and Hannah Abbot shouted "We already are, Neville!" and amid the cheers Justin Finch-Fletchley yelled "Neville for Minister!" Neville and the other officers smiled and laughed along with the crowd at that.
It was close to eight thirty now, and Hermione had something to say also. "It's June 30, and we should have been finishing our exams a few days ago." "It's an ill wind that blows no good!" one voice responded, and it was greeted with laughter. Hermione gave a perfunctory smile at that and continued. "And today would have been graduation day for the seventh years. We didn't have time for that today," [laughter "so tomorrow, Harry, Ron, Neville and I expect--" and in the absolute thunderstorm of approving bellows that followed, the words "we expect to have a proper ceremony," were never heard, though perfectly understood.
"But for those of you who don't want to wait," she continued, "I've had a kind of substitute certificate made up, for everybody here, not just the seventh years. So with Deputy Headmistress McGonnagal's approval--" The Gryffindor Head of House gave a fond nod to her pupil, and Hermione then levitated the boxes containing all the parchments to the tables, from whence they dispersed to their proper recipients. These "diplomas" bore nothing but the name of each young witch or wizard, along with the declaration:
Hogwarts 1997-1998
None of us failed.
None of them passed.
It was a quarter to nine, and it was time for the five to make their way to the Room of Requirement. Harry cast the spell to drop the wards; all the radios in Hogwarts, virtually forgotten for so many months, crackled to life and a chorus of choruses sang:
Ju - - dex - - cre - de ris - - es se ven tu - - rus
"Berlioz, Te Deum," Hermione said. " 'We believe in the judgment to come'."
while the sound from a massive organ and massed orchestras pounded repeatedly beneath the words,
Ju - - dex - - cre - de ris - - es se ven tu - - rus
making the message of the inescapable day of trial come inescapably through, even to those who hadn't heard Hermione's translation.
Ju - - dex - - cre - de ris - - es se ven tu - - rus
The officers, rooted in place for a moment, started to walk to their appointment, and now the hall began to follow them, calling out their names, shouting words of faith and encouragement. Quickly one chant, small at first, drew the others around it like a crystal: "GO, GO GRYFFINDOR!" as loudly from the Ravenclaws as from the Gryffindors, as loudly from the Hufflepuffs as from either. The radios sang, now less ominously, more pleadingly:
Sal - - vo- - - fac - - pop - u lum, (save Your people)
The officers were at the door now. Moody took up his position just outside, as first responder, and had his wand out and pointed, just in case. Harry had no doubt Mad-Eye would be in exactly the same spot, holding precisely the same posture, if and when they came out. Harry came to the door, and turned back to the students just as it was opening. The chanting and cheers subsided.
In - - te - - do - mi ne - spe ra - - vi - - non - con fun - - dar - - in - ae ter - - num
(We have trusted in You, Lord; do not leave us confounded.)
"See you in a bit," Harry said, and the student body exploded again in cheers and shaking of fists. The five officers entered the room, closed the door behind them, and the sounds quickly died down, though Harry could have sworn he still heard the radios playing the Te Deum, and the students camped outside whispering to themselves "Please, please, God" and "Come on, Harry" and "Tomorrow, it'll be over, I'll see Mum and Dad again. Tomorrow."
Harry looked now for the first time at the transfigured room, and his glance was drawn first to the four Death Eaters already facing him from the opposite side. Between their group and his stood two rows of slightly raised platforms separated by about five meters. There were five to a row, naturally, each about one square meter in size, and about one foot away from its neighbor on the left and or right. Standing between the two rows was an eldern Knight in medieval robes, a pentangle emblazoned on his chest and a green sash around his waist. In his right hand he held a long staff.
"We await the last challenger," the Knight said to Harry. Harry nodded and looked over the enemy. Lucius looked ghastly, so thin and frail he seemed in danger of shattering with the first hex; evisceration, Harry figured, even when reversed, would make digestion of food a difficult business. Bellatrix's left arm, or the area where that arm used to be, was too well covered by a flowing robe to see, but Harry knew it was a block of yew wood now. Dolohov had horrible red scarring on the right side of his face, no doubt inflicted by one of the dragons whose mating ritual he had dared try meddling with. Only Draco still looked relatively intact.
"Well," Ron declared, "I see the four little farts are here, so where's the long snaky turd?" There were outraged howls at this blasphemy, and the flyting contest was on. "I know, he wants to make a big entrance," Ron yelled over everybody else. "Is he putting on his makeup before he comes swanning in? It won't help, you know." The Knight looked on at the trash talk impassively, just making certain no spells were cast or blows struck. Finally the Dark Lord appeared, and his followers broke off the contest to turn and kneel to him. After accepting these tributes, Voldemort looked at Harry. "Potter," he began, but did not get another syllable out before the Knight cracked his staff on the ground three times and called for order.
"The two companies are complete," the Knight announced. "Each captain, declare your name, your companions' names, and your cause. The challenger first." He inclined his head to the tall figure and gestured him to begin. The challenger was not accustomed either to being interrupted or instructed, and directed an angry glare at the Knight, which made no impression at all. The Dark Lord spoke.
"I am Lord Voldemort, and my--"
"I know of no peer by that name."
After a moment's pause of astonishment at this impudence, the Dark Lord turned in fury to the Knight. "Perhaps it is a name you fear to speak. I am Lord Voldemort. Put that name down on your list."
The Knight barked out a short laugh. "Believe me, sir, however much your power might surpass mine outside of this room, inside it I am the judge, and Hogwarts gives me whatever the judge requires. And I say, there is no such name in my book. You must give your true name or the duel will not proceed."
The dark challenger bit back his fury and grudgingly declared himself. "I am Tom MARVOLO Riddle. My seconds are Antonin Dolohov, Bellatrix Lestrange, Draco Malfoy, and Lucius Malfoy."
"And your cause?"
"What?"
"Your cause, sir, the cause for which you challenge your opponent."
After a moment's pause, Tom Marvolo Riddle stated, "We fight to purify the wizarding world," and made a move to mount the dueling platform, only to find the Knight barring the move with his staff. In a wild rage, the dark wizard raised his wand. The Knight frowned and shook his head. Riddle and the Knight stared at one another for some seconds, then Riddle at last put back his wand.
"I am here to remove an enemy who opposes me," he said at last.
The Knight nodded, and Riddle took the center platform and waved his four servants into their positions. From left to right, then (as Harry saw them), were Draco, Dolohov, Riddle, Lucius and Bellatrix. Harry provided his name, and those of his friends. Their cause, he blurted out, was "the defense of Hogwarts and the people in it." This was accepted.
"The defenders will now take their places."
Harry sent Ron to his far left to face Draco, Hermione to the near left against Dolohov, himself of course opposite Riddle, Ginny to his near right confronting Lucius, and Neville far right against Bellatrix. Ron grumbled at his assignment at first, but then saw what huge helpings of poetic justice the other matchups offered and gave his best friend a smile of satisfaction and a thumbs up gesture. Harry grinned back, thinking also and it give you a bit further to go, makes it a bit less likely that you'll come running out, mate.
"The rules are as follows: duelists must each cast spells only upon the judge's mark: that is, you may not attempt to cast a second spell before the signal is given for another exchange; spells may only be cast against your opponent, on the platform opposite you; any spell may be cast, without restriction, even those prohibited outside this room; no physical attack is permitted; no dueler may leave the platform--"
Harry tapped Hermione furtively on the side and she quickly glanced towards him; Harry indicated Ron and the platform with a roll of his eyes; Hermione nodded in understanding and agreement. The process had taken a half a second, at most, but both parties understood the dialogue: HP: Make sure Ron keeps on the platform! You know what he's like, he'll get carried away and forget. HG: Right, I'll cover it.
"All duels are to the death," the Knight continued. "The first fighter to defeat his or her opponent will next fight against the first on the other side to defeat hers or his; violation of any of these rules means forfeit and death; the duel will be concluded when all on one side have been vanquished. Are there any questions?"
There were none.
"Do the captains have any final words for one another?"
Harry shook his head no, anxious to get on with it. Voldemort wouldn't, couldn't, let the last chance for taunting go. The rant contained something about the pleasure of seeing him die face to face, something about how he would probably see all his friends die for him first, something about what Tom was going to do after he won the duel and freed his followers, and by now Harry felt nothing but mounting annoyance at this tedious cawing, cawing, cawing, until without even thinking about it he found himself pointing a broad, black wing towards his foe and calling out through his beak:
"Enough, fool, enough cackling, enough! You lost the right to breathe and to speak long ago. You usurp the air, the blessed air, dead thing!"
Jatayu looked on in amusement as Voldemort gave a sudden cry of fear, turned to the Knight, and rapidly babbled, "That's-- that's a transformation, that's not allowed under Fortinax, he's-- he can't do that, he can't use that against me, it's a violation, he forfeits--" all the while Ron was shouting "Get the mustard! Who brought the mustard!"
The Knight gave a glance in Harry/Jatayu's direction, and the transformation was instantly reversed. "The animagus transformation is prohibited in Fortinax rules, once the duelhasbegun. Do you understand this, Harry Potter?" Harry nodded, still feeling a bit of Jatayu's smugness about the scene.
"Are there any further statements before the duel begins?" An idea occurred to Harry, and he turned to his former schoolmate. If it worked, it would make sure Ron was safe -- safer, anyway. It would save Draco too, he thought, and felt surprised to discover that there was nothing repulsive in that idea, that there was something hopeful in the notion that every Hogwarts student who was here now would walk away from this alive.
"Malfoy -- Draco -- you don't have to be here. You've got nothing to gain from them," he spat out the pronoun, "even if you won. You can still live, and start over, if you leave now." Draco's first reaction was disbelief, of course, but for a moment Harry could see a seed of hesitation, of consideration for the idea. Then Draco's head was snapped to his left as by a powerful magical chain, Draco looked into the furious eyes of the one he had pledged himself to, and the seed died. Harry gave his school rival-turned true enemy a few seconds to proclaim his contempt for such an offer, his certainty that he was on the winning side, and one or two weak and derivative taunts, before cutting in: "All right then, die and go to hell." Harry turned to the Knight and said "I'm ready."
He held out his arms, his friends did the same, and they held hands in a chain of five. The Knight spoke: "May the Powers be just, and may Fortune favor the brave and true." There were five "Amens!" and five silent scowls. "Prepare for the first exchange," the Knight said, and the friends reluctantly released one another's hands and raised their wands to the ready.
In the seconds before the signal came, Harry filled his mind with that memory, the memory so clear the dueling room now seemed only a vague shadow, the memory of the joy of his magical adoption, and-- with complete belief now in Luna's old admonishment-- the memory of the pain of his friends' murder. As that memory came, he saw their spirits standing at either side of him, and there too, in memoriam, were all the lives and the faces of Ernie and Sarah, Terry and Anne, Colin and Luna. I'm so sorry, I'm so glad to have known you, I'm so sorry. "Can you help me?" he asked the two ghosts, and the Belfords smiled and nodded. "You can do it, Harry," Jack told him, "you can finish it now."
"One!" the Knight said, striking his staff to the ground.
"Expecto Patronum!" "Avada Kedavra!"
The great stag charged out to throw itself against the green light. As Harry knew would happen, the Killing Curse had behind it not only Voldemort's power, but the power he was drawing from his four followers, power that was flowing into the Dark Lord's wand. Voldemort had ordered them, with no explanation of course, to cast only Protego (since any deadlier spell would use up power their lord wanted for himself). Harry could see the truth beginning to dawn on their frightened faces, as their magic loss made their shields too weak fully to withstand the curses sent by their opponents. And Harry could also see that despite all the power Voldemort was stealing from his servants, Prongs was moving forward, was beating back the curse, but as with the Dementors the two were gradually annihilating each other like a slow motion collision of matter and antimatter. By the time the green light was consumed Prongs was only a fraction of his former size, but had enough left to leap into his murderer's face. Voldemort was too startled to twist out of the way completely, and the antler pierced him. He screamed in pain, and when he turned back to look at Harry the left side of his face was gone, crumbled away from the eyebrow to the bottom of the cheek.
The Knight gave the duelers a few seconds interval, and the friends exchanged hope-filled grins. Harry still felt the terrible aches of loss from the memories, the presences of his eight friends, like the spasms that had wracked him for so many months, but fought through them to return to that birthday memory once more, and to commune with the memories of his departed comrades. I'm so glad to have known you. I'm so sorry. I'm so glad to have known you. "Breathe, Harry!" Eileen said. "We know it hurts, but you're doing great!"
"Two!" the Knight said, striking his staff to the ground.
"Avada Kedavra!" "Expecto Patronum!"
Now Voldemort drew even more power from his petrified slaves, leaving their shields weak enough to be pierced easily by the curses from Neville, Ginny, Hermione and Ron. Bellatrix had been struck by dozens of magical arrows, and was crying "Stop it, stop it!" Lucius was staring out helpless and glassy-eyed and almost walked off the platform to his death. Dolohov was clutching desperately at a gaping hole in his torso; and Draco was holding on to what was left of his privates. But Prongs was being forced back and back, and though he took almost all of the power out of the curse, a pulse of green light was left which pursued Harry relentlessly. With so little room to dodge, he had to block it from his face with his left hand. The pain on contact was excruciating, and when Harry looked down he saw the hand had turned instantly gangrenous.
The Knight gave the duelers another few seconds' grace. The situation now looked desperate. Voldemort would pull all the power he needed from his dupes in the next round, they were as good as dead anyway, and would use this to kill Harry; then he would finish the others one by one. Harry's friends didn't know how to similarly enhance Harry's power, nor (under the rules) could they attack Voldemort on their own. Harry glanced to his left, saw his best mate's eyes light up, and knew instantly: Ron sees it. For a chess player of Ron's caliber, the sequence was ruthlessly obvious:
LightDark
Knight to K-3King's Kedavra x Knight
King's Patronus advances (Checkmate for Light.)
Hold him back Hermione, I can pull this off. The pangs of heartbreak were so strong, coming so close together now... He went back one more time, to the memories of love and sacrifice, play and war, beginnings and ends. I'm so sorry. I'm so glad to have known you all. I'm so sorry. "Almost there, Harry, almost there!" said Jack and Eileen. "One more big push!"
"Three!" the Knight said, striking his staff to the ground.
"Expecto Patronum!" "Avada Kedavra!"
As Prongs left his wand, Harry looked left and saw Ron bending his knees to spring into his knight sacrifice, but Hermione was already shouting "Impedimenta!" not at her already-beaten opponent, but at Ron. He never came close to leaving the platform. Just as the sound of his own triumphant thought, Attagirl, Hermione! was completing itself, out of the corner of his right eye Harry saw another red-haired figure flash in front of him, take a green light in the chest and fall, limp and unresisting, to the ground.
The five year old girl set her teasing brothers' clothes on fire with a burst of accidental magic... The nine year old girl snuck into the storage and made off with a broom... The eleven-year-old girl blushed with embarrassment and ran away on seeing her fantasy hero before her... The young woman, almost seventeen, flushed with joy at discovering how much the real young man loved her, from a kiss that was perfect now, that he could feel from both bodies, both memories. The knowledge that she too wished so much that this could go on, that they would have a lifetime...
It had all taken three seconds at most, how was it possible for everything to change that much in three seconds? Take it back. Take it back. I can't stand it, I can't stand it... "Yes you can, Harry," Jack said, "every day, thousands of people go through this, parents, children, lovers." Eileen added, "You'll live through it too. Open your eyes now, Harry, and look up. The war is over."
The duel! he thought, I have to-- When he was able to make out anything through the tears and fogged-up glasses, he saw that Prongs was gone, and in his place was a young lioness crouching to leap, obviously waiting for the command to spring on her prey. She sensed him opening his eyes and looked sorrowfully into them. Harry forced himself to memorize her, not certain if she would ever come again; she seemed too solid to be a Patronus, and too colorful -- not the universal silver but Gryffindor gold with strong scarlet highlights, especially around her head -- yet she was far too bright to be anything else. Harry nodded to her, and forced out a whisper: "Go, get him; show him what you're really made of."
The lioness took one roar and one leap and was upon the enemy. Tom Riddle frantically drew out every ounce of force his allies possessed, leaving them dead and desiccated in seconds, but the vengeful predator tore at him again and again, the room echoed with his shrieks. With each attack, Riddle lost a huge chunk of his counterfeit flesh and tried to reform himself into a smaller and smaller shape. He was a dwarf-sized man; a serpent; a rat; a spider. Before the final blow came which would crumble Riddle to nothing, Harry experienced for the last time the connection between himself and the Dark Lord, and for the last time viewed the world through his old tormentor's eyes. What Harry could see was his own face, gigantic, multiplied, seeming (through a trick of spider-vision) to surround himself as in a hall of mirrors, and he felt overwhelmed by Voldemort's sheer incredulity: To think that this face, the face of this nearsighted, adolescent boy wiping his runny nose on the sleeve of his school robe, was the one who had beaten him, and was going to be the last thing he saw before he...died?! No! the remnant of the Dark Lord cried out; I AM LORD VOLDEMORT!
"Dirty little spider," Harry muttered. "That's all you ever were, a dirty little spider."
The now cat-sized lioness pounced one last time, and Riddle, Voldemort, "He Who..." was nothing but dust.
Now the lioness began to fade also, and Harry thought he heard her voice calling before she left, saying I'm so sorry. It was so good to be with you, even for just that one minute. I'm so sorry. Then she was gone.
"You'll be OK, Harry," Eileen told him. "I know you don't think so now, but believe me, you'll get through." And Jack said, "You kept your promise to us, Harry. Thank you." Then they were gone as well, and the only sounds in the room for some time came from the weeping of four teenagers.
After some seconds of this Harry tried to speak.
"How-- how--"
"Harry?" Hermione gently prompted.
"How could-- how could they do this to me?" His lungs couldn't cope with this kind of crying, he was going to pass out, that would be better...
"Harry? who do you mean, who is 'they'?" she asked.
"My parents. They said-- they told me it was going to be OK. They said I could do this, they-- How could they let this happen, how could they do this to me?"
"Oh, Harry."
"Don't-- don't talk like that in front of me," Ron said, resentment helping him fight through his own tears. "She was my sister. She was my sister for sixteen years, she was your girlfriend for what, five minutes?"
"I KNOW, Ron. I know, I know."
"Both of you," said Neville, "stop it. She's the one who lost everything."
Harry started to flare up, was about to begin with Where do you get off... then realized Neville was the one here with every right. "I'm sorry, Neville, I'm really... I'm not...--"
"OK, Harry, I know."
"Ron?" Harry turned to his best mate, afraid of his response, but the youngest Weasley put his arms around Harry and they wept together for a while. Then Hermione and Neville joined. Sometime during the group embrace Hermione gasped and pointed at Harry's left hand; he realized it did hurt pretty bad, and looked even worse. Hermione performed a series of freezing spells to stop the gangrene spread, and from her running description of what she was doing Harry realized that he might not have made it if she hadn't noticed and responded in time. He noticed that the thought gave him a shudder, which he figured was a sign that he did want to go on after all.
"They had it backwards," Hermione said after she had finished the healing.
"What?" three voices asked.
"The Centaurs. Their star reading. It wasn't 'The Dark Lord will destroy the chosen one, and tears will fall strongly.' It was 'With the strength of his falling tears, the chosen one will destroy the Dark Lord'."
"Yeah, my 'power' is crying. I haven't cried in--" Harry realized he couldn't remember. Not since he came to Hogwarts, he was pretty sure. Not since he was in the cupboard for all his eighth birthday? When he decided he wasn't going to let them make him cry anymore? Almost ten years. "And now I can't stop. Big hero."
"Honi soit qui mal y pense," said the Knight, whose presence had been forgotten and whose return mildly startled the group.
" 'Honey'...what?" Harry asked, and Hermione of course had the translation.
"It means... Basically, it means 'don't you dare be ashamed of that, Harry'."
The Knight bowed in agreement, then spoke. "I only wish to say before I leave, that I have never known any who have given more honor to the names of 'witch' and 'wizard' than you six. It was a privilege to take part with you."
"Thank you, Sir Gawain," Hermione said.
"Ah, I suppose it was the green sash that gave me away."
"Yes, sir."
Sir Gawain said farewell, and vanished. "He seemed like a pretty old guy," Ron said. "I guess he knew a lot of wizards."
"Yes. One or two fairly big names among them," Hermione replied.
"We should go out," Neville said. "They're still waiting, they must be worried about us, about what will happen."
"Yes, of course." "Right." "Yeah, I guess..." Harry didn't quite think of the world outside this room as real yet, though he knew he still had bonds and duties there, friends, family. It was agreed that Harry and Ron would go out first, that Hermione and Neville would come behind, levitating Ginny's body. The four friends helped one another up, then stood together for a moment. Harry thought back to the day, almost exactly six years, when the foursome had also stood in one room together, children on the brink of their first great adventure.
"Harry," Hermione said to him, "It's over."
"What?"
"It's over. The siege, the war, it's over."
"Yeah." He knew that was momentous, and thought of what that meant to Ron, Hermione, Neville, to all his friends, comrades, family, waiting outside the room, to literally millions of witches, wizards and muggles who had also been suffering so much these last months... It didn't take away the heartbreak, but it put something else in his chest that made it much more endurable.
A/N: I have to believe that many of you had deduced which way this was heading. Again, there will be an alternate version in which Ginny survives. I'll have to clean up a fair amount of foreshadowing to do that.
If you've heard Berlioz's Te Deum, and particularly the section 'Judex crederis,' you know how spine-chilling the music is. If you haven't, one version I can fanatically recommend is the recording by Colin Davis and the London Symphony Orchestra (Phillips).
The anonymous medieval poem "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight" tells of that knight's pentangle, green sash, and association with the Order of the Garter, whose motto ("honi soit qui mal y pense") he delivers here. As Hermione of course knows, Sir Gawain knew a number of very prominent wizards, including Merlin.