Harry Potter and the Veil of Time
Chapter Three: The Night is Always Darkest Before the Morn
By Cybergades
Elsewhere, there were the sounds of battle, of the cries of dying men and women, and of the pounding of great frozen fists against wood and stone. But in a brief and terrible moment of isolation on a body-strewn stretch of Hogsmeade street, there was only the howling of the wind, so ubiquitous and chilled into the bones that the screaming wind seemed like blessed silence to Harry Potter. Nothing moved on the street except for the scattering flakes of snow, and the dark misshapen crimson stain that inched slowly in all directions, trying to escape the body of Draco Malfoy.
Harry Potter drew freezing breath after freezing breath, the wand he had stolen from Draco Malfoy's hand still trembling with the warmth of the magic that had coursed through it, carrying hatred and deadly rage into the body of Draco Malfoy. Malfoy's own wand, borrowed with words of encouragement from either a Death Eater who recognized Lucius' progeny or (Harry shuddered at the second possibility) from a Hogwarts student who did not recognize the traitor he or she was aiding. And still, Harry thought, his eyes glancing towards the wreck that was once Lucius Malfoy, if things had gone differently, could Draco have turned from this violent end?
Rising to his feet, Harry inched away from the spreading bloodstain that flowed towards him accusingly. He had acted without thinking, and realized now how lucky he was that Draco's wand had obeyed him so thoroughly. Ollivander's words echoed in his mind…"Whether it needs to pass by murder, I do not know…" and Harry looked down at the wand in his hand. He had claimed it so thoroughly, it would even kill its former master for him. And then the realization set in with freezing clarity; Harry Potter had just murdered Draco Malfoy.
Harry blanched slightly, abandoning sudden and ill-formed attempts to rationalize or excuse his actions. In a moment of rage he had stooped to levels he knew would have sickened Albus Dumbledore. He had dispensed cruel justice without thinking, and had repaid one vile action with another. He looked at the face down body of Draco Malfoy and felt his stomach twist with regret. Had he not been justified? Ron had been his staunchest ally, one of his closest confidants, snuffed out in an instant in one final act of protection. But the guilt was there all the same, and Harry had to force himself to unclench his fists. There would be ample time for regret later. Now there was only time for the fate that had been doggedly pursuing him since his birth.
His feet crunched in the snow as he weaved his way through the Hogsmeade streets, gradually making his way into areas of greater conflict. The first group of students he came upon cheered loudly when his Shield Charm saved one of their number, and joined him in subduing the handful of Death Eaters they had been fighting. He paused only a moment to ensure that they were still fit to continue before moving on, their words of encouragement sounding muffled in his ears.
He was so intent on finding Voldemort that he didn't see Bellatrix until she was almost on top of him. She was standing, arms arched predatorily , watching him approach almost without belief. He noticed her when she moved at last, and he threw up a Shield Charm between them with his heart in his throat, watching her bare her teeth like an animal on the other side of the shimmering barrier, reaching out to prod the shimmering magic with the tip of her wand.
"That can't save you, Potter," she said with a grating laugh. "There's precious little that can save you from me, and even less that will save you from Him…" she breathed the last word reverently, lovingly, and Harry could detect a twinkle of sick adulation in her eyes.
"What'll it be, Harry?" she whispered. "I could bring you to the Dark Lord, alive, and we can put an end to this slaughter. Or you can resist," she added, biting her lower lip. Harry could almost feel her coiling around him like a great constrictor snake. "And then I can kill you myself. Disappointing the Dark Lord like that just might be worth it if it means I'd get to end you. Unless of course, you think you can pull off a better Cruciatus this time." She winked, chuckling, and Harry felt his anger spike. She noticed his hands clenching, which only inspired her to greater fits of laughter.
"Oh, Harry, you're easier to needle than a cat with broken legs," she said, patronizingly. "Come on, what say you? Spare your friends any more pain and just give yourself up!" She hissed the last words, unable to contain her anger and impatience. When Harry did not immediately respond, she raised her wand, mouth pursed with fury.
"Alright!" Harry shouted, causing her to pause. "Alright, let's just get it over with, then. No more killing."
Bellatrix smiled evilly. "Well, I don't know about that, but-"
Whatever maliciousness she had meant to say was cut off by sound of screaming behind them. Turning to look over his shoulder, Harry saw a crowd of students and Mrs. Weasley rushing up the street. He turned back to Bellatrix's astounded face, head tilted slightly to one side, and the two of them shared looks of confusion between the fading Shield Charm. Harry looked back when one of the students cried "Spiders! Spiders from out of the Forbidden Forest!"
Sure enough, one of Aragog's monstrous brood thundered down the street behind them, its massive legs clinging to the sides and roofs of cottages as its enormous midsection squeezed down to the street level, all eight lidless eyes glaring at the fleeing mass ahead of it.
"Truce?" Harry Potter offered meekly.
"Tch!" Bellatrix only scoffed in response, and when she aimed a curse, it was at the center of the fleeing students. In their panic to avoid the incoming magic, students bowled over one another. They were further scattered and disoriented by the explosion of magic when the curse hit the ground. Harry called out angrily, turning to disarm her, but she only laughed and batted aside his curse before deflecting another spell, cast by the furious Mrs. Weasley.
Harry managed a quick nod to Mrs. Weasley before the two of them began assaulting Bellatrix in earnest. However, the Dark witch was a frighteningly competent duelist and managed to fend off their own attacks as well as the occasional attacks of the other students, who were mostly preoccupied by the giant spider whose fangs kept snapping at them.
"I'm going to enjoy listening to the children die once this is over," Bellatrix cried, laughing at the face of hatred this elicited from Mrs. Weasley. Ron's mother brought back her wand-hand for a powerful casting, but Bellatrix capitalized on the second's hesitation, cackling out "Avada Kedavra!" and sending a bolt of green in between the woman's raised arms. She collapsed like a ragdoll, wand clasped loosely in her hands.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted.
"Expelliarmus!" Lestrange replied mockingly, dodging his curse and returning with one of her own. She caught Malfoy's wand in her hand with a snap of her wrist, waving it mockingly at Harry.
"There we are, Potter, that wasn't so hard, was it? Now let's not keep the Dark Lord waiting."
Before she could grasp Harry's wrist to drag him off, the two were overwhelmed by the crowd of students, who was fleeing again from the spider. One of them had successfully blinded it in most of its eyes, and it was now shaking itself violently to try and clear its vision, stampeding towards them. Harry seized his chance, leaping to the ground by the body of Mrs. Weasley and slipping her wand from between her fingers. He whirled on Bellatrix, who was cuffing a child hard on the side of the face.
"Expelliarmus!" he tried earnestly, saying silent thanks in his mind as Mrs. Weasley's wand obeyed and Bellatrix's wand soared into his hand.
"You RAT!" she shrieked, but was cut short from further insult by the half-blind acromantula, who seized her in a moment of blurry anger. She managed a few more high-pitched wails before there was a sickening crunch and she spoke no more. Draco's wand tumbled from her limp grasp, landing underneath the seething forest of legs that stumbled awkwardly in the street for a moment before rumbling away after the children that blinded it. Harry hurried over in its wake, fishing Malfoy's wand out of the kicked-up snow and noting with relief that it had not been stepped on or crushed. He dropped Bellatrix's wand with distaste and replaced Mrs. Weasley's wand in her hands with gentle kindness.
"Thanks," he said softly, but his voice was lost on the wind.
Harry was nearing the Shrieking Shack when he saw the dark shape above him, saw Voldemort materialize out of a swift-moving sooty-looking cloud and descend to earth, alighting on one foot and falling easily into a stride. The Dark Lord clapped his hands slowly.
"Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived," he announced with a sweep of his arm. "So glad you could make it."
"I'm here, Voldemort," Harry said. "Call off your dogs."
"Plenty of time for that when you're dead, isn't there, Harry? You don't get to come to me dictating terms for your surrender."
"I'm not surrendering," Harry said simply. "I'm giving you a chance to surrender."
The small Death Eater crowd that was beginning to form around them erupted in laughter, dominated by Voldemort's reedy cackle.
"You know, Potter, I was almost worried about facing you, before I saw to a bit of business," he jerked a nearly-skeletal thumb back towards the Shrieking Shack. "Now I don't expect there will be a problem."
"Snape…" Harry murmured to himself. "Trying to get the Elder Wand to obey you?"
"I don't suspect that will be a problem, now. I made a…slight miscalculation. I should have destroyed Dumbledore before your eyes, and taken the wand with my own hands. But in the end, it's all the same," he said with a shrug.
Harry, already cold from walking in the snow, felt an even deeper chill spread out from his spine like icy water, and he watched as most of the Death Eaters retreated uneasily. Dementors descended from the clouds, forming a loose cloud around them.
"The dementors are hungry, Harry," Voldemort said. "Can you feel their want? It's a pity for them I'm going to kill you myself, but maybe they can suckle the soul out of your corpse, if they're fast enough."
"You're deluding yourself," Harry said, shaking his head. "The Elder Wand's not going to obey you, even if you did kill Snape. He wasn't its master, and neither are you."
Voldemort looked annoyed. "What nonsense are you playing at, Potter?"
"The wand need not pass from master to master by an act of murder or tomb-robbing, Voldemort. A simple disarming or other significant defeat will suffice. And before Snape killed him, Dumbledore was disarmed and defeated by someone else. Draco Malfoy."
Voldemort gave a sort of half-chuckle scoff. "Well, Harry Potter, this certainly destroys my evil plans. I guess there's nothing left for me to do now. Oh, except for kill Draco Malfoy."
"You can't do that," Harry said.
"Enlighten me," The Dark Lord said. "Why not?"
"Because I've killed him myself only this last hour."
"You're lying," Voldemort stated plainly. "You don't have what it takes to take a life, Potter. You never did."
Potter shrugged.
"Honestly I think I wish you were right, Voldemort. I already had his wand by the time I did it, and that probably could have been enough to have mastery of the Wand. If you don't believe me I guess you'll just have to call my bluff."
Voldemort eyed Harry suspiciously, Nagini coiled tightly around his neck arms and shoulders like a scaly scarf. He waited for a moment, as though curious what sort of last-ditch gambit might be waiting to explode out of the snow at any moment, then he announced "Avada Kedavra!" his curse striking Harry clearly in the center of the chest.
Harry Potter was knocked backwards to the ground by the force of the curse striking him, and he gasped for breath as sheer agony rushing across his body like molten fingers, stopping at his scar to focus a blinding agony there that he thought would be sure to split his head open. Still, he was alive. Hadn't something gone wrong then? He became vaguely conscious of Voldemort screaming alongside him. Then, with an almost-audible suddenness, the pain in his scar stopped and he came crashing back to reality, taking great seizing breaths as he lay there on the snow. The dementors were closing around him curiously, so close now that he could feel the sepulchral warmth of their breath.
"Expecto…" he muttered weakly. He felt the icy grip of their long fingers scraping against him, and focused his mind on the fact that he was still alive. Voldemort's plans had failed so far. He was so close, just a few more moments of effort…
"Expecto Patronum!" He bellowed, a great white stag erupting from the tip of his wand and scattering the dementors like ninepins. He clambered to his feet, his Patronus circling him protectively and casting a blinding glare that glinted harshly on the falling flakes of snow. Swiftly he located Voldemort climbing to his feet, Nagini's head darting back and forth from its master to the glowing stag.
"Sectumsempra!" Harry said, seeing he had regained his composure before the Dark Lord. He twitched his wand, carving out the air. The great snake's head separated from its body messily, leaving a ragged edge that had clearly taken multiple cuts to sever fully. Voldemort let out another terrible shriek, falling back to his knees as his final Horcrux lay draped dead across his shoulders.
"It's over, Tom," Harry said. "You're nothing but a man, now."
Voldemort could muster no response, looking from side to side at the limp coils of his beloved pet.
"It's never too late for remorse, Voldemort," Harry said, almost sadly. "But you've got to mean it."
"I'll kill you, Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed softly, his last shreds of hatred clinging to him, for fear that he would be completely empty without them. "There is nothing that can keep me from you."
"Don't try it," Harry warned. "Just let it go."
"Avada Kedavra!" The Dark Lord uttered with finality.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry returned, and the twin spells met in between the two wizards, crackling and spitting sparks angrily across the snowy ground. But the Elder Wand recognized its master, and the contest was short-lived. With a slow inevitability, Harry's spell overpowered Voldemort's, and the two bursts of magic soared through the air together and collided with Voldemort's body. The Elder Wand was flung from the Dark wizard's hand even as the life fled from his fingertips, driven out of his body by his own Killing Curse. Harry walked to where the Elder Wand had fallen on the snow, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. So many wizards had fought and died for a wand of such power…Harry shook his head. He would return the wand to Dumbledore's tomb, where it would hopefully lie for the rest of time. But first…he dug into the small bag Hagrid had given him so long ago, producing the broken halves of his own wand.
"Reparo!" he said hopefully, and forced a small smile when the two pieces of his wand fused flawlessly back together. Maybe everything was going to be alright.
Harry carried the headless body of Nagini with him, showing it threateningly to any Death Eaters he saw and exhibiting it as a grim trophy before any Dumbledore's Army members or Hogwarts students he came across. Word swept across the battle-torn village like wildfire that Voldemort had been stricken dead, and that Harry Potter was victorious. The morale of the Death Eaters crumbled swiftly, so that by the time Harry reached the Hog's Head it was relatively peaceful, with some Death Eaters disarmed and under guard, while their opponents tended to the wounded, both D.A. member and Death Eater alike.
"Harry!"
The snake was knocked from his grasp as Hermione threw her arms around his neck.
"We couldn't believe it when we heard, thank goodness you're alright!"
Harry simply nodded, drained and out of breath.
"Where's…where's Ron?"
Harry felt her words hit him like a punch in the stomach. He looked at her helplessly , unwilling to speak aloud what he knew she had already realized.
"Hermione…"
She remained silent, her lower lip trembling. Harry knew from experience that the pain of loss was something that was suffered in solitude, no matter what sympathy others could offer. He drew her close again, an embrace not of triumph but of bitter mourning and helpless sympathy. After a few moments, Hermione pulled away, wiping at her eyes and affecting a determined and businesslike mood.
"Everything seems to be drawing to a close, there's just a few pockets of Death Eaters at Hogwarts who refuse to accept what it means that their Dark Marks have faded. Honestly, it's amazing what some people will convince themselves of in order to avoid-"
"Wait, Hermione, what did you say?"
"What?"
"Hogwarts? There are Death Eaters in Hogwarts?"
"They broke through when they drove the spiders out of the Forbidden Forest. Oh, Harry, you don't think…"
But Harry was already gone, dashing towards the castle with a new found energy, his stomach twisted up and churning as though he was burning up his own insides for fuel. He heard Hermione shout into the wind behind him.
"Harry, wait!"
He ignored her, pressing through the crowd of people towards Hogwarts as fast as he could manage. It took him several minutes to sprint up the steep pathways that took him most directly to the castle, and he only sped up his pace when he saw the doors of the Great Hall blown off their hinges. Students stopped to greet him, but he ignored them, the guilt of ignoring his friends overpowered by his need, the burning question inside him…where was she?
The wounded looked up at him hopefully, but he pressed past them, dragging the guilt burned into him by their eyes along with him, bearing the weight desperately and willingly as he searched the standing students, those sitting down in splints and casts, and those lay strewn out along the Hall, each one lying as though asleep for only a moment.
Harry felt the blood flow out of his face as he spotted her. He was vaguely conscious of saying something, or perhaps only making some tortured sound before he fell to his knees. He felt the crowd press away from him, giving him a small pocket of solitude in which to view the corpse of his love. Ginny Weasley was still beautiful, even in death, and Harry touched her pale cold face with fingers that trembled of their own accord. The tears filled his eyes, and in his watery vision he could almost see her move again
Harry found himself moving through the school as though in a dream. Occasionally someone would speak to him, and he would watch himself respond without thinking. Eventually he found himself bundled up in the Gryffindor common room, watching the sputtering embers of a fire die in the great fireplace, the Gryffindor house colors on the walls looking muted and dull in the chill night air. He felt bitterly ashamed, for killing Malfoy, for everyone that had died that day, for leaving Hermione alone with her own grief.
"Now now, lad. There's nothing to be gained from self-pity," an aged male voice seemed to echo in his mind.
"Oh, Dumbledore," Harry said. "I feel I've handled all this so dreadfully."
"Nonsense, lad. Have you not saved the Wizarding world from the threat of Voldemort?"
Harry was half-aware that this was a rather bizarre conversation he was having.
"I guess, but…Ron, and Ginny, and Malfoy…"
"I know you feel for them, lad. Even the Malfoy child, although that is something of a rarity for one of your kind."
"One of my…Dumbledore, what are you talking about?" Harry asked, before asking the even more obvious, "…and how are you alive?" Harry was barely conscious of the physical world around him, except that it no longer seemed as though he was in the Gryffindor common room, instead existing in some sort of warm dim expanse. He saw a figure approaching him through the shadows. As it came near, he saw that it was not Dumbledore at all, but an even taller man, in a robe and pointed hat, who stooped to address him.
"You're not…" he said dreamily.
"Relax, young master Potter," the man said. "You are among friends."
"Is this real?" Harry asked.
"Indeed it is," the man replied.
"Where am I?" he squinted into the darkness around them.
"That…is a difficult question," the old man admitted, stroking his long white beard.
"Who are you?"
The old man perked up at this. "Oh, that is a much simpler question." He removed his hat, offering Harry a low bow and a kindly smile.
"I am Merlin."