Brutal Harry Chapter 11, a harry potter fanfic

Chapter 11:

Author's Note: This is the chapter where the story earns its title. That doesn't mean psychopath Harry, but it does mean Brutal Harry. Also, be warned, things get messy; this chapter is the reason this story is rated Mature.

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Harry, I'd thought you hadn't inherited James talent with the ladies. I was wrong.

You lucky dog you.

-Sirius.

((()))

Breakfast at Hogwarts was rather abruptly interrupted by a choked scream from the Gryffindor table, one vaguely recognizable as originating from Hermione Granger.

At the Gryffindor table, Harry was in the middle of banishing a strongly-odored viscous liquid from Hermione's cheeks and arms, but the skin beneath was already breaking out in boils and blisters. Several of the other students at the table gasped in shock, and a few lurched out of their chairs to act, but Harry had already levitated and Hermione, and was sprinting towards the Hospital Wing.

"Keep your eyes shut," He said to the gasping Hermione, speaking between breaths, "Breath slowly, and if you begin to inhale a liquid, exhale immediately."

Hermione nodded, though Harry could not see it. It only took him a few minutes to bring her to the Hospital Wing, where he found Pomfrey waiting for him just inside the entrance.

"McGonagall already sent word," She said briskly, taking control of Hermione's levitation from him, "Bubotuber pus in a letter. I'll have her treated in a trice."

Harry nodded tensely, and followed after the Mediwitch as she lowered Hermione into a bed. With a few flicks of her wand, Pomfrey had Hermione's hair and sleeves out of the way, after which she began applying a paste Harry was unfamiliar with to the Granger girl's inflamed skin. Harry watched her for a few minutes, but when Hermione began emitting relieved sighs, he turned and left the infirmary, mind filled with purpose.

((()))

Andromeda Tonks had just finished eating breakfast, and was in the process of cleaning up, when there was abruptly a Harry Potter in her kitchen. She hadn't even heard the crack of apparition.

"Harry?" She said, taking in his unusually grim expression, "What are you doing here?"

"I need to know," Harry said, "Who owns the Daily Prophet."

"That would be Gustavus Ogden," Andromeda said, "He also is the Chief Editor, and works out of an office at the Prophet building on Diagon Alley. Why do you want to know?"

"I've decided I wish to own a Newspaper," Harry said, and disappeared as abruptly as he'd arrived.

((()))

The Daily Prophet offices were in a rather upscale building on Diagon Alley; the paper had no real competition in the British Isles, and was very successful financially as a result. From Harry's point of view, standing in front of the offices, testing the magic within the building, it had also become rather detached from reality; having read about the process of national decay, he suspected it had been a gradual separation over many years. He honestly would not have cared much, had it not been for the fact that now it had hurt his best friend.

After ascertaining that the wards were not powerful enough to pose any real threat to him, and that none of the staffers inside were of exceptional magical power, Harry opened the front door, and walked in.

"Hello," Said an attractive young woman seated behind a small desk in the entrance hall, smiling at Harry as she did so, "How may I help you?"

"I am Harry Potter," Harry said, feeling a bit funny as she smiled at him, but crushing the feeling ruthlessly, "I wish to speak with the owner about purchasing the Daily Prophet."

The receptionist frowned slightly, worrying her lip a little.

"I'm sorry," She said, genuine regret in her voice, "But I can't just interrupt the Editor without an appointment."

Harry nodded, then reached into his robes and withdrew a ten-pound lump of gold, placing it on her desk.

"Please take this to him," Harry said, "I'm confident it will catch his interest."

The young woman tentatively reached out and touched the mass of precious metal, then picked it up and examined it more closely.

"You're serious, aren't you?" She said.

"Yes," Harry said, "I am."

"I'll go see what he has to say," She said, rising from her desk and moving further into the building

((()))

"The Editor will see you now," The young woman said, smiling as she returned to the entrance hall, and gestured for Harry to follow her further into the building.

Harry nodded, and silently followed her into the main office floor of the building. Harry was mildly surprised to see that, like in movies he had seen during cultural research, the writing staff did in fact work at desks that were only semi-segregated from each other in a communal work area. A few of the writers looked at him curiously as he passed through, but Harry did not return their gazes, though he paid sharp attention to them with his other senses. He detected no build-up of magic for attack, and heard no guns being readied, and arrived at the Editor's office on the far side of the office floor unmolested. The receptionist opened the door for him, and he proceeded in alone.

The office of Gustavus Ogden was a display of comfortable wealth; not ostentatious, not under-played, it simply showed someone who had money, and used it as he saw fit. Ogden himself was seated behind a massive hardwood desk, and was a moderately overweight man, not obese, but clearly not too concerned about keeping himself in shape either.

"You wished to speak with me, Mister Potter?" Ogden said, placing the blob of gold onto his desk meaningfully.

"Yes," Harry said, reaching into his robes as he began to speak, "I find the material your rag has published to be utterly execrable."

Harry paused for a moment as he pulled a cloth bag out of his robe, and placed it on the desk in front of him, but out of easy reach of Ogden.

"In the interests of correcting the blatant lies your 'paper' has been publishing," Harry continued, "I have decided to purchase it and rework the publishing standards to include some kind of relation to the truth."

Harry reached into the bag and began pulling out small bars of gold, and placing them on the desk, capturing Ogden's attention and killing any desire the man had to interrupt. Harry said nothing more until he had placed a half-dozen of the small bars on the desk.

"Considering the number of Magicals in Britain and your maximum possible number of subscribers, and that this gold is rated at better than 99% purity, this should be twice the value of the entire Prophet. More than a fair asking price."

Ogden licked his lips nervously, staring between the gold bars on his desk between them, and Harry's cool, ever so slightly menacing gaze.

"And if I'm not interested in selling?" He said eventually.

"Then I will start paying your paper and ink suppliers not to supply you," Harry said flatly, "I already checked their prices. I have enough gold to pay them not to sell to you for a year. Beyond that, I have enough gold to pay off a number of other suppliers as well, enough that I should be able to keep you deprived for months, if not longer before you can find someone I won't be able to afford to pay off."

Ogden blinked as he realized just how much money the fourteen-year-old in front of him was implying he had.

"Also," Harry continued, interrupting Ogden's thoughts, "I will initiate litigation implicating you in deliberately printing lies, assault on a minor, and defaming two noble houses."

Ogden cringed. Whether or not the charges ever stuck, and even with him controlling the press, dealing with the legal battle would be very expensive with Potter carrying that much gold, and might even result in a conviction.

"I'm not going to raise the offer to appeal to your greed," Harry said, allowing cold anger to show clearly in his voice for the first time since he'd entered the man's office, "I've already offered you far more than your shitty paper is worth."

Ogden sat and thought for several long moments, staring at the twelve gold bars on his desk.

"Can I take the gold now?" He eventually said.

"If you sign the deed over now," Harry responded promptly.

Ogden scooted his chair back and spun it around, facing a safe set into the wall that Harry had not been able to see through the back of the man's chair before it was turned. The man summoned a briefcase, emptied most of the contents of the safe into it, then used his spell to direct the contents of his desk, and several shelves in the office into the briefcase as well. He then took the single item from the safe he had not moved into the briefcase, placed it on the desk, retrieved one of the pens he had packed into the magically expanded briefcase, wrote several quick lines on and signed the sheet of parchment in front of him, before sliding it across to Harry.

Harry examined the parchment, finding it to be the deed to the Prophet with a crude set of terms of sale attached, with Ogden's signature in the appropriate place. Harry made Ogden wait several minutes as he went over the deed and terms of sale a second time, before addending it slightly to include the weight of gold he was giving Ogden. He then pushed it back across the ownership-contested desk to Ogden, who examined it, nodded, and pushed it back. Harry signed the deed, and silently levitated the gold bars to Ogden, who simply opened his briefcase beneath them, and let them fall in.

"Will there be anything else, Mister Potter?" Ogden said, standing from behind the desk that was now Harry's and smiling.

"Yes," Harry said as the man began heading towards the office's exit, "What is the receptionist's name?"

"Anabelle Rose," Ogden said, "Good luck with your new paper."

"Good luck with your retirement," Harry replied politely as the man left.

((()))

"Miss Rose," Harry said, sticking his head into the Prophet's entry hall, "If you would join me in my office, I would like to consult with you on some thoughts I have on how to re-organize the Prophet's fact-checking procedures."

The bewildered receptionist turned from where she'd seen a smiling Gustavus Ogden walk out the front door to look at Harry. Seeing no sign whatsoever that the boy was not serious, she shook herself free of her bewilderment, stood, and followed him back into the building.

((()))

It was late when Harry returned to Hogwarts that night, and an irritated Hermione Granger was waiting to ambush him in the entrance hall.

"Harry Potter," She said fiercely as she stormed across the hall towards him, and Harry knew by the inclusion of his last name, but exclusion of his middle name, that he had worried her, but not offended her, "Where have you been?"

"Re-organizing the Prophet," Harry said carefully as he approached her, "And tracking down Moody to make him the Chief Editor."

It was a testament to Hermione's continuing exposure to the oddities of Harry Potter that this announcement only caused her to pause for a split second, and blink once, before crossing the rest of the distance between them, and wrapping him in a crushing hug. Harry returned it, though in a less crushing manner.

"You didn't do anything illegal, did you?" She asked quietly, worry in her voice.

"No," Harry said, "I just bought it."

Hermione sighed and shook her head, but rather than ay anything more, she shifted slightly in their embrace, Harry was not entirely certain how, but now it was less of her hugging him, and more him holding her. It made him feel decidedly awkward, but he wasn't sure what to say about it, so he didn't say anything. Neither did Hermione, who was relaxing more and more as he held her, and Harry continued to feel more and more awkward as several minutes passed.

He was rather relieved when they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat, and he turned to see McGonagall standing at the entrance of the hall, looking at them with no small amount of amusement on her face. Harry shifted to free himself, but Hermione tightened her grip a little, and Harry subsided.

"Yes, Headmistress?" He said, feeling embarrassed, something he was not accustomed to.

"I'm afraid, Mister Potter," McGonagall said, "That as you left the grounds without permission, and you are still not legally an adult, you will have to report to my office tomorrow evening for detention. You may have done so with good intentions, but you cannot go breaking the rules without consequence, especially since you are known to be my favorite student."

Harry nodded reluctantly, and McGonagall smiled.

"Now," She said, "You'd best see Miss Granger off home, it is getting rather late, after all. The Floo in Gryffindor tower will be active for fifteen minutes once I reach my office. Do make haste."

Harry sighed, nodded again, and began guiding the unusually clingy Granger girl up towards Gryffindor tower.

((()))

Minerva McGonagall tried not to laugh as she read the Daily Prophet's first edition under Mad-Eye Moody as Chief Editor. It was not an easy task; she turned her attention back to the article she'd been reading.

And in another display of utter ineptitude by the Ministry, the article continued, it took my last apprentice before I retired, all of twenty-two years old, to realize that the Skeeter wench was illegally gathering what few actual facts she'd published by illegally breaking and entering into private areas as an Illegal Animagus. There's not a man or woman in the ministry above the rank of Senior Auror or Senior Clerk who can find their ass with both hands to pull their heads out of it since Bones was sacked, and let me tell you…

Minerva wondered briefly if Moody realized that the front page wasn't supposed to be for editorials. Then she realized he probably wouldn't care if he did know, and began paging through to find out what else Harry's latest acquisition had published.

((()))

Harry was stressed going into the third task. Hermione had been planning on coming to watch, but he hadn't seen her all day. If it weren't for the magic of the Goblet compelling him to compete, he would have been off to search for her hours ago, but instead he stood in front of the entrance to a hedge-row maze, waiting for Ludo Bagman to signal that he could enter.

It seemed as though every last person in the castle had turned out for the event; Harry had even seen Argus Filch walking the perimeter of the maze before disappearing into the stands. Harry ignored the restless crowds, and banked the fierce excitement that burned within him. McGonagall still hadn't figured out just what had been done to the Goblet, and he fully intended to destroy it the minute he was no longer under its influence.

Ludo Bagman gestured into the air with his wand, and a small cannon blast echoed over the maze. Raising his wand, Harry entered the maze.

((()))

Draco Malfoy was not in the least bit surprised when Harry Potter dealt with the hedges that defined the maze by blasting through them with Reducto curses as he walked unhurriedly to the center of the maze. It had become bluntly obvious after the first task, that Harry Potter had been concealing the full extent of his abilities, and trying to maintain a low profile. After the first task, he started every class that dealt with spell-casting by casting the spell or spells they were handling that day silently, then would spend the rest of the class working on managing it without wand motions either, while his classmates struggled to perform the spell in the first place.

From what Malfoy had both heard from others, and seen for himself, he performed 'merely' at or near the top of his class in Potions and Herbology. It had shamed the Malfoy to realize that where he had been spending his first few years at Hogwarts attempting to bludgeon his classmates into submission with crass displays of power, Potter had been silently building his abilities, with no one the wiser. Malfoy still was not certain how he had ended up in Slytherin, and Harry in Gryffindor, rather than the other way around.

And now, while Draco Malfoy sat in the stands, a social recluse as his only other options were even less desirable, Harry Potter stood in the spotlight, making a mockery of the power of not only his classmates, but the other, more senior champions, and most probably every Wizard and Witch present save for Dumbledore himself. A small part of Malfoy burned with jealousy, but he ignored it, and it was growing smaller every day. Potter had earned his power, and wielded it effectively; Malfoy had done next to nothing to develop his own abilities, instead relying on his father's name.

He found it more than slightly ironic to realize that the Hufflepuff house, which he had so despised just two years ago, now embodied what he knew he needed more than anything else to overcome his now-lowly position; an iron-clad work-ethic.

As Harry Potter obliterated the last hedge between him and the cup, sending branches and leaves flying almost into the stands, Draco Malfoy was reflecting upon how the world was not, in fact, how his father had lead him to believe it was.

Then Harry touched the cup in the center and disappeared.

((()))

When Harry appeared at the graveyard in Little Hangleton, a deadly calm settled over him. Wherever he was, whatever he was there for, he was certain that it was the ultimate fruit of whatever plot had put him in the Tournament in the first place. Finding Bellatrix Lestrange standing in front of him, wearing Argus Filch's clothes, with a wand to Hermione Granger's throat, simply intensified the sensation of cold lethality coursing through his veins.

There were several long, silent moments, as Lestrange stared wildly at Harry, and he stared calmly back, before Harry broke the silence.

"I suppose," He said, crossing his arms and slipping his hands into his robes, "You probably broke out when I retrieved Sirius, and the ministry has been covering it up to save face?"

Lestrange just continued to stare at him. Harry frowned, and extended his magical senses actively, wondering why she was just standing there staring at him. Someone, and something were creeping up on him on his left. One pair of silent stunners later, Harry removed his hands from his robes slowly, this time with his wand. He had not even taken his eyes off of Lestrange, though he noted peripherally that Hermione was smiling now.

"Your ambush has failed," Harry said, "Hand over Hermione and I'll leave catching you up to the Ministry."

"Not so easy, Potter," A hissing voice said from Harry's left, and Harry stepped carefully backwards to bring it into the same field of vision as Bellatrix Lestrange, keeping his wand directed the woman's way.

"Surrender," The voice continued, "Or the girl dies."

"No," Harry said firmly, turning slightly to focus on the speaker, "I am not a fool. If I surrender, there is nothing to keep you from killing her. And I guarantee you, if you do kill her, neither of you will leave this place alive…"

Harry's eyes narrowed as he examined the small crudely humanoid creature he was speaking to, crawling across the ground, a wand held clumsily in one undersized hand.

"-Tom Riddle," He finished.

"I am Lord Voldemort," the creature spat, and Harry laughed harshly.

"No," Harry said, "You're the pathetic remnant of a bully. A powerful bully, but nothing more. You weren't even a pureblood, you just pretended to be so that you could manipulate that social group."

"I am the most powerful-"

"Were the most powerful," Harry cut Voldemort off, "And even that was debatable. Now I am the most powerful Wizard in Britain. I've faced your old followers, Riddle, they were pathetic. I faced your diary-horcrux when it attempted to possess a student when I was twelve, and I defeated it before it could even cast a spell on me."

"Foolish boy!" The creature spat, "I have held-"

"Have held!" Harry suddenly shouted back, "You were, Tom, and you might have been more powerful than I am now at the height of your power, but you are not now."

The creature was silent at that, snarling but saying nothing, and long moments passed while Harry alternated staring at Lestrange, who still held Hermione, though she appeared as much enraged as insane now, and Riddle, who simply glowered at him.

"I still have the girl," Riddle growled eventually.

"Yes," Harry said, returning to his calm, courteous mode of speech, "Which is the only reason I have not slain both of you."

"I will have a vial of blood for the girl, Potter," Riddle said, "Or I will kill the girl and let you destroy this body, and simply come again later."

Harry glared at the being, and considered for a long moment before responding.

"Your binding magical oath that you hand Hermione over to me," Harry said, "Unharmed, once I give you the blood."

The creature laughed darkly.

"Less the fool than most your age," Riddle hissed, "If you want an oath, I want one more thing of you as well. You will duel me once I am reborn, then I will turn the girl over to you. Unharmed, of course."

"I do not duel," Harry said coldly, "But I will fight you, if that is what it takes to secure your oath."

Voldemort laughed again, and raised his wand, carefully pointing it away from Harry.

"Very well then," Voldemort said, "I, born Tom Marvolo Riddle, swear upon my magic that in exchange for a vial of Harry Potter's blood, and him fighting me once I am reborn, I will not harm Hermione Granger, and turn her over to him-"

"-Unharmed," Harry interjected forcefully, and Riddle laughed again before continuing.

"Unharmed, upon the duel's completion. So do I swear."

Harry nodded sharply, and conjured a vial and a knife, then after a moment's concentration, lowered his internal barrier over his right arm, and made a small cut on the outside of his bicep. After feeding a moderate portion of blood into the vial, Harry cast one of the simpler healing charms he knew to clot the wound, then levitated it over to Voldemort, keeping a sharp eye on Lestrange as he did so. As he re-asserted the barrier in his arm, he found it ironic that his struggle against the Goblet at the start of the year had enabled him to work through one of the issues it had presented him. It would have been years yet before he developed an interest in lowering his barrier, much less figured out how, without the sheer demand on his magic that event had created.

Once he had handed the blood over, Harry returned his hands to his sleeves, and stepped further back. While Voldemort roused the minion that had been carrying him before Harry stunned him, Harry palmed one of his shrunken weapons, and cast a lightening charm on the ammunition in it in preparation for unshrinking and using it.

Harry then spent several minutes watching as a rebirth ritual was performed, involving his blood, Riddle Senior's bones, and one of Bellatrix Lestranges toes. Harry was not happy when the woman forced Hermione to cut it off for her. The last thing his friend needed was for this night to be more traumatizing than it already had been. By the time the ritual completed, Harry was, if anything, impatient.

Then Voldemort stood up from the cauldron, naked, and Harry saw more of what Tom Riddle did, and didn't have, than he had ever wanted to. He also briefly wondered how Voldemort was avoiding being boiled by the concoction.

"Robe me," Riddle commanded, and Lestrange, almost slavering with eagerness to serve, wrapped a black robe around her master as he stepped out of the cauldron.

Wasting no time, Harry strode across the graveyard to stand directly in front of Voldemort, keeping his senses sharp as he faced the reborn half-blood.

"Let's get on with it," Harry said sharply, and Riddle turned to face him, sneering.

"In due time, boy," Riddle said, sneering as he reached out to Bellatrix Lestrange's arm, pressing a finger to what Harry recognized as a Dark Mark.

Harry saw no reason to wait, and cast a piercing hex at Voldemort, simultaneously un-shrinking his Uzi.

((()))

Hermione was abruptly jerked out of her frantic attempts to formulate an escape plan by a burst of gunfire, and a shriek of outrage from Voldemort. Lestrange's wand dropped from her throat for the first time since Harry had arrived at the graveyard, and Hermione lunged away from the madwoman. Hermione rolled away as there was a second burst of gunfire, and looked up to see Bellatrix Lestrange collapse, gurgling, to the ground. She snatched the woman's wand from her now limp grasp and rolled to her feet.

"Run, Hermione!" Harry roared, and she looked up to see him firing another burst at Voldemort from an Uzi, but the man-thing had some sort of shield up, and it absorbed the bullets.

More than certain that Harry could take care of himself, Hermione ran.

((()))

Harry ran to his left and discarded the spent magazine from the Uzi then reloaded, sticking his wand to the side of the gun as he did so. Riddle used the moment to finish healing the arm Harry had wounded with his piercing curse, and take the offensive. Dark jets of energy leapt from his wand towards Harry, but the distance he had gained from Voldemort gave him plenty of time to dodge the curses, and his return fire from the Uzi did not suffer from that flaw. Fortunately for Voldemort, Harry's accuracy on the move was crap, and his first two bursts only resulted in a single graze along the side of Voldemort's new abdomen, but it made Riddle more than aware of how dangerous Harry's gun was, and he raised another shield.

Once the shield was up, Harry stopped running, dodged another pair of curses, then let loose on full-auto at the shield. His accuracy had improved since the previous summer, and the shield was a target of considerable size; Harry hit with two thirds of the remaining clip. His shots overwhelmed the shield, knocking it down, and Riddle ducked for cover as the last few rounds were fired. The clip exhausted, Harry palmed his wand, and sent a concussive hex towards the tombstone Voldemort had taken cover behind, before ducking behind a tombstone himself.

A long moment of careful concentration later, he had apparated silently to the top of a crypt that overlooked most of the cemetery, where he reloaded, shrunk, and stowed the Uzi, retrieving instead a silenced M4 carbine, and bracing it into position. That was when the Death Eaters started arriving.

((()))

Riddle snarled as he shook off the disorientation from Potter's concussive hex, then used a longer incantation to cast a more powerful globular shield that covered his entire body. Standing from behind the tombstone he had been forced to take cover behind, he spat the incantation to a powerful blasting curse, and obliterated every tombstone within a dozen paces of where he had last seen Potter, but found no sign of the boy.

A sharp crack behind him marked the arrival of the first of his followers, and he turned to face the man, just in time to see Vincent Goyle's mask and skull shatter under a three-round burst of fire.

((()))

And now, Harry Potter thought grimly to himself as he sighted in on the next arrival, I am a killer.

((()))

"Raise shields," Voldemot screamed as Gregory Goyle's corpse joined Vincent Crabbe's on the cemetery floor, "He hides from me and strikes from the dark!"

His minions, following instincts from long ago, instantly obeyed him, raising shields to protect against a random variety of directions, but more arrived who had not yet heard the order, and two more were cut down by nearly-silent gunfire.

((()))

Lucius Malfoy appeared at the edge of the graveyard, clad in a black cloak with the hood pulled up, but no mask.

Now, he thought as he raised a pair of Omnioculars to his eyes, what has became of my old master.

((()))

When the fifth of his underlings dropped, Voldemort was finally able to determine where Potter was firing from, and whirled around, already speaking the words for his most powerful blasting curse as he sighted in on the roof of the crypt.

((()))

Harry saw Voldemort turn towards him, as he knew the man eventually would, an dropped his M4, disappearing immediately with the sharp crack that marked a conventional apparition.

((()))

Riddle snarled in satisfaction as the entire top of the Crypt was blown away, but his moment of triumph was interrupted by cries of pain from his followers behind him, and he twisted around to see Harry Potter withdrawing a pair of shortswords from the backs of Flint and Yaxley, then bringing them around to stab two of his subordinates who had just arrived, that Voldemort had not been able to identify yet.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort screamed, and green light jetted towards the young Potter, but he disappeared with a sharp crack, leaving four more of Voldemort's followers dying.

((()))

Hermione paused at the edge of the graveyard, desperately out of breath and wishing she could Apparate, before turning for a minute to see what was going on behind her. The green flash of a killing curse, and Voldemort's outraged screams were enough to inspire her to continued flight, albeit at more of a lurching shuffle than a sprint.

((()))

"You two!" Voldemort screamed, pointing at two Death Eaters, "Tend the wounded. You lot!" He pointed at about half a dozen, "Your largest shields, covering all directions!"

He would have continued screaming instructions, but a loud whoosh came from behind him, and his head twisted around with inhuman speed and flexibility, just in time to see a Rocket-Propelled Grenade strike his shield-globe.

((()))

Harry scowled as his RPG failed to penetrate Voldemort's shield, but took the indecision it caused in his followers as an opportunity, and used the time to disapparate silently.

((()))

Voldemort's re-born body, though substantially tougher than that of a regular human, was still briefly stunned by the massive impact on his shield. A shield, which to his distress, nearly failed under the single blast, even though it was his own personal improvement on a shield crafted centuries ago specifically to be strong against muggle firearms. Fuming silently, he re-cast the spell.

"After the girl!" He said quietly, his voice dripping with lethal intent as he gestured in the direction the mudblood had fled before his followers had arrived, "Apparate to the edge of the graveyard, then bring her back. I will deal with Potter."

((()))

Flying one hundred feet overhead on his broom, Harry did not hear Riddle's order to his Death Eaters, and was busily unshrinking grenades from his belt-pouches. When he had an even dozen, he primed them, then stared down, waiting.

((()))

An even dozen of Riddle's followers went after the mudblood, Voldemort immediately set to casting an anti-apparition ward while he waited for Potter to attack again, and reveal himself. It did not even occur to him in his ego that Potter would direct his attack against a group that did not include himself. As he worked through the short-term warding, another dozen of his followers arrived, all that he knew would be able to return save Lucius Malfoy, and grouped around him.

((()))

Harry, seeing the cluster of soft targets grouping around his primary target, considered attempting to time the grenade's fuse to drop-time, then discarded the idea for a more direct approach. With a sharp crack, he Apparated to directly beside Voldemort, though to his frustration, he had not been able to appear inside the shield. Harry dropped the grenades, their pins sliding out together in a chain as he did so, then attempted to Apparate away again.

((()))

Three syllables before Riddle completed his incantation, Harry Potter appeared in front of him, and dropped a collection of metal ovoids on the ground in front of him. Riddle grinned in triumph as he completed his warding against apparition, and the Potter boy was left standing on a dozen of his own grenades, his attempt to disapparate failing.

"I win, Potter," Riddle said, secure inside his shield, just before the grenades all detonated.

((()))

Harry Potter's world abruptly disappeared in smoke and fire, and he was hurled briefly into the air. His broomstick shattered beneath him, taking away his second-best maneuverability option, after Apparition. The hail of shrapnel from the grenades was mostly stopped by his Dragonhide armor, and his barrier dealt with the rest, leaving Harry feeling like he had been struck by a light spray of hot water. He landed awkwardly, unable to see the ground yet, but rolled to his feet, and faced Riddle. A glance told him that his weapon-belt had been damaged, and though he doubted all his shrunken guns had been damaged by the explosions, he was certain some had, and he had no way to tell which without testing them each individually. His wand had been on the inside of his Dragonhide armor and protected by it, but his robes were in shambles.

Shrugging off the tattered robes, leaving him in Dragonhide boots and armor, with a damaged combat harness over his chest, Harry pulled his wand with his left hand, and unshrunk the shortsword sheathed in his left.

((()))

For a moment, Voldemort stared in stunned disbelief as Harry Potter rose out of the smoke from his grenades, shrugging off shredded robes, and drawing his wand and sword and moving to attack again. Never in his life, not even when he had faced Dumbledore, had he seen someone shrug off that kind of damage. His own shield had almost been obliterated again, and if Potter started using magic rather than muggle weapons, it would collapse on the next blow.

Then he snarled. This changed nothing. He had hemmed Potter in, destroyed his broom, and survived his best weapons. Riddle had lost some of his minions, but once Potter was dead, he could always recruit more.

"Crucio," Voldemort said, voice dripping with menace as he ignored the pained moans and gurgles of those of his followers who had not been slain outright by the grenades, and jabbed his wand at Potter, aiming directly between his eyes.

((()))

Pain. Pain like not even his uncle had been able to inflict upon him. Pain like he had never experienced before in his life, and immediately never wished to again. There had been no bolt of light for Harry to dodge, though at such close range, even he would be hard-pressed to do so. Harry struggled to move towards Voldemort, to swing his sword, to use his magic, but the pain disrupted his concentration, forced his muscles to clench, and crippled him utterly.

((()))

Riddle could feel the triumph rising in him, confident for the first time since Potter had put a piercing curse through his arm at the start of the fight. A curse that would have taken his heart had his own reflexes still been held to human limitations. He saw movement in his peripheral vision, but ignored it as he continued to pour his desire to inflict pain through his wand, and waited for the Potter boy to begin screaming.

((()))

Three of Riddle's minions had survived the grenades uninjured, protected by their position on the far side of Voldemort's shield from the blasts, and as their dark lord appeared to gain the upper hand, one of the Death Eater's took the initiative, and moved around his lord to join in the attack. He cast a single spell.

"Avada Kedavra."

((()))

Green light bore down on Harry, and he was still powerless to move. It slammed into the center of his torso, a carefully aimed shot that struck dead-center, and blasted away the armor that had been protecting his chest.

Then the spell rebounded explosively, a massive concussive blast bowling over Harry, finishing off Voldemort's shield and knocking him flat, and knocking one of the other two Death Eater's on his ass. The caster of the spell caught the full back-lash, and green light, murkier in color after rebounding off of Harry's chest, struck him full-force, eroding his body into protoplasm and splattering it across the shattered graveyard.

((()))

Voldemort lost precious seconds trapped in a flashback of when he had made the same mistake his Death Eater just had, reliving the terror of being forcibly disembodied by his own magic. It took him only a few moments to recover from his haze of physical shock and terrified memory, but by the time he did, Potter was already on his feet again, acting as though he had not been under the effects of the Cruciatus Curse mere moments before.

Riddle raised his wand to curse Potter again, but the boy gestured silently with his left hand, apparently having lost his wand in the back-lash of the Killing Curse, and Riddle found himself being violently hurled across the graveyard.

((()))

Harry wished Riddle had remained out of it for a few more seconds, he would have preferred to plant his sword in the bastard's heart rather than simply blast him away, but he could not allow Riddle to put him under that curse again; later he would need to figure out how it had bypassed his barrier, and how to stop it. With Riddle out of the way, Harry rushed the two surviving Death Eaters in the immediate area.

One of them got off a piercing hex, taking him directly in the chest, but Harry's barrier absorbed that spell, allowing him to ignore it completely, and then Harry was on top of the man, slashing at his throat with his sword. The man jerked back, raising his arms defensively, and losing his right arm halfway down the forearm, with his wand, for his trouble. He went down, screaming, and Harry moved on to the other man, who was trying to crawl away, but getting fouled in his robe.

Harry steeled his heart, and stabbed the man through the back, then raising his blade to stab again when he missed the heart the first time.

That was when he heard a female's scream.

((()))

Pain. Pain like nothing Hermione could even conceive of. When she had suddenly been faced with a dozen Death Eaters directly in front of her, she had instinctively raised Bellatrix's wand, and tried to defend herself. She'd even managed to disarm two of them before two disarming curses and a bludgeoning curse caught her, knocking her off her feet, and driving her breath right out of her. As they started dragging her back into the graveyard, she could feel blood trickling from her mouth, and was worried that her lungs had been damaged.

It wasn't until they were halfway back into the graveyard, though, that the Death Eaters saw their lord being hurled away by Harry, and one of them decided to take out his frustrations on her.

((()))

Rage boiled in Harry's veins as he saw one of the Death Eaters holding Hermione under the Cruciatus, and he sprinted up the row of graves towards them. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye from the direction he had hurled Voldemort, and swung his empty left hand, palm out, spewing out a stream of fire at the dark lord as he bore down on the death eaters.

((()))

Voldemort was frankly amazed by the amount of force the boy had been able to put behind a wandless banishing charm, and knew he had either cracked or broken bones when he had crashed down against a tombstone, breaking it in half, even his supernaturally strong body not up to taking that degree stress.

He easily deflected the small portion of the fire Potter had conjured, but the band of flame and smoke fouled his line of sight on his prey. Still though, he knew where Potter was going, and why.

"Keep, the Mudblood away from him!" He shouted, "Use the Cruciatus on him!"

((()))

The instant the word 'use' left Voldemort's mouth, Harry knew what the man was ordering, and knew there was no way all twelve Death Eaters would miss with Cruciatus curses at once. He couldn't use an area of effect spell on them, as Hermione was directly at their feet, and his Apparition was still blocked. So Harry improvised as best he could in the second and change he had available.

((()))

"Crucio!" A dozen death eaters began to shout, though only ten finished.

Harry's short sword, being a Wakizashi, had no cross guard to speak of, and when he banished it at the Death Eaters with as much force as he could, it pierced directly through one's chest, tore through the Death Eater behind him's neck, and whistled off into the night, trailing blood and viscera as two more Death Eaters went down.

The Death Eaters saw the boy dive to the ground and go still as he banished the sword, and confused at the lack of screaming and thrashing, stopped casting.

((()))

Harry had, in fact, been struck by two of the Cruciatus curses, but even combined, they did not bear near the malice or power Voldemort's had alone. Every muscle in his body still clenched, including his jaw, which rendered him immobile, an effect the Death Eaters had not expected. The instant they let up on their spells, however, he rolled to his feet, casting with as much force as he could.

((()))

Death Eaters had been selected based upon their blood-status and willingness to commit to Voldemort's cause, not their combat prowess. Even they, however, knew to return fire when Potter cast a pair of blasting charms, taking off one of their number's arms, and blowing the other's chest apart in a gory mess. Potter still got off another pair of blasting hexes before their next round of Crucio's found him, taking off the arms of two more Death Eaters, knocking them out of the fight.

This time, however, they did not stop casting, instead casting the Cruciatus Curse again, and again, and again.

((()))

Voldemort felt satisfaction rising in him once more, as he swiftly strode through the graveyard, healing his damaged ribs as he walked, approaching where four of his six remaining followers were holding Potter under the Cruciatus, one was tending to the three who had just lost arms, and the remaining one was using cutting curses to carve pieces off of Potter's muggleborn.

He stood over Potter, watching the boy's rigid form begin to tremble in pain for a full minute, before gesturing to his minions to stop.

((()))

Pain.

Pain.

And then less pain. It had been so long though now, since before the pain, that his body had begun to forget how to handle not-pain, and it was nearly a half-minute before his locked breathing freed up again, and he was able to perceive the world somewhat clearly through his senses, rather than as a haze.

"-Struggle," Voldemort was saying, "But in the end, no one, can triumph against Lord Voldemort."

A female scream, formed not just of pain this time, but of despair, the voice gurgling in a horribly wet way, punctuated Voldemort's world, and rage like Harry had never known in his life before. He snarled, and began to lurch to his feet, but was cut off by a single word from Voldemort.

"Crucio," The dark lord said concisely, and the pain came back again.

Pain.

And then less Pain. This time, Harry's mind cleared more quickly, but his senses less so, his brain struggling from the overload of pain signals running up and down his neurons, but he did not wait to be able to sense the world around him clearly.

Harry lurched forward, towards where he had heard Hermione's scream.

Pain.

Harry's breathing had locked up again, and his body still ached now, even without the Cruciatus being active on him, but Harry lurched forward again.

Pain.

For the first time, Harry felt tempted to give up, to stop rather than invite the pain again, but discarded the thought before it was even fully formed, and lurched forward again.

Pain.

To Harry's frustration, this time his muscles were locked up when the pain ended, and he had to wait several seconds before lurching forward again.

Pain.

Pain.

This time Harry had to wait longer before his muscles would respond to his commands, and his hearing cleared before he was able to move.

"Stay down boy, or I will kill her before I kill you!"

In that moment, what Harry had chosen to live for, six years ago, when he had decided to protect a little girl he had never even learned the name of from his cousin's bullying crystallized within him, and roared to life.

Harry's magic reached out, and snatched Hermione, dragging her across the bloody cemetery grounds towards him, and he hurled himself over her.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Harry nearly passed out from oxygen lack before his breathing began again this time, and he could feel his heart pounding within him like an engine running twice the RPM's required to redline, threatening to fly apart within him. He struggled with his body, until he eventually was able to wrap himself protectively around the girl beneath him, and desperately tried to extend his barrier to cover her. Gradually his hearing came back, though his sight was taking longer to return through the haze of pain inundating his system.

"Give up the mud-blood, Potter," Voldemort said, and Harry could hear his sneer, "And I will make her death swift."

"Death. First." Harry rasped out harshly through gritted teeth, his lungs and vocal cords barely following his orders.

"No, Potter," Riddle said, "I will make you beg for death, but only after I have killed the mud-blood in front of your eyes."

Pain.

This time, when the pain lessened, Harry vomited blood, barely able to avoid vomiting all over the girl he could feel, but not see, beneath him. He idly wondered if he would ever go long enough without the curse to get his vision back. He doubted it. Eventually, his hearing returned, and Voldemort spoke to him again.

"I can do this all night, Potter," Voldemort said in an almost pleasant tone of voice, "But you cannot last forever. Why do you resist?"

"I live…" Harry rasped out, his lungs short on breath, his vocal cords raw from the strain of the curse, "For a purpose. I would… do this… for anyone… in need… it is why… I live. Rather die, than surrender… anyone to… those like… you… but especially… my best… friend…"

"I wonder," Voldemort replied thoughtfully after a moment, "Just how long I will have to hold you under the Cruciatus before you surrender that?"

"You will never know, Tom Marvolo Riddle," A new voice called, echoing across the graveyard.

It was a woman's voice, and Harry was certain he had never heard it before, but something in him spoke of familiarity. A sound like liquid pouring came from beside his right ear, and Harry turned his still-blinded eyes towards it. He found, to some relief, that his vision was beginning to return, and he watched with growing clarity as the blood on the ground began to pool together, than rise up, twisting into the shape of a foot, then coalescing further upwards to form a leg.

"You are not the only one who transcended death of the body on Halloween thirteen years ago," The voice continued, "And I believe I have made far more productive use of my time without a body than you have yours."

The blood continued to expand into the shape of a woman, whatever magic that was driving the process magically expanding the amount of blood available to suit its purposes far beyond what either Harry, or Hermione, had bled, or even contained within their entire bodies.

"Now you, the fool that you are, have taken my son's blood, my blood, and used it to build your new body."

Harry looked up as the head formed, trailing off into strands of hair that fell to the middle bloody incarnation's back. Green eyes opened, and glanced down at Harry for a moment, intensity of meaning and purpose beyond words passing between the near-identical eyes in that moment, before snapping up to spit the would-be dark lord with an unyielding gaze.

"And now," This time, the voice emerged from the reborn Lily Potter's mouth, "You will pay for what you have done to my son."

Lily Potter raised her hand abruptly, and gestured sharply at the dark lord. Tom Riddle screamed as blood began to ooze out of his pores, his eyes, his mouth, his nose, all across his skin.

The six Death Eaters still standing uninjured raised their wands towards the bloody phantasm of Lily Potter, but Harry Potter cut them off with a sharp scream, and a wave of magic washed out from his body, shattering their knees, and dropping them screaming to the cemetery grass. Several of them attempted to raise their wands again, but a series of individual blasting curses removed their heads, cast without even hand motions, because Harry could not force his hands to move, and the threat they presented was removed with said heads.

Voldemort shouted a garbled curse, jabbing at Lily Potter with his wand, but she contemptuously batted aside the magic with a bare hand, then banished Voldemort with the other. Lily then crouched down beside Harry for a moment, and laid a hand over his forehead, craning her neck to place her mouth beside his ear.

"I Love you, son," She whispered quietly, then stood, ripping her hand away from Harry's forehead, and taking a dark mass of magic, that Harry could feel the malevolence of, with it.

"Take care of Hermione," Lily commanded, then strode out after Voldemort.

Harry nodded, though his mother did not see it, and after carefully checking the surrounding Death Eaters to see if any posed a threat, and finding they were all either dead or unconscious, rolled off of Hermione.

It took him three tries to sit up so that he could examine Hermione, his trembling limbs not wanting to respond to his commands. When he did, he almost wished he hadn't been able to at all.

One of Hermione's eye sockets was half empty, the ruins of her right eye smeared across her cheek. Her nose had been broken, her hair half-burned off, and her left ear was missing. He could also tell through her bloody lips that several teeth were missing. Chunks of flesh had been cut out of both shoulders and forearms, and half her fingers and one thumb had been sliced off, the rest were crushed. Her robes and blouse were a bloody mess, mostly missing, and one of her breasts was outright gone; Harry could literally see her heart beating, and bleeding, through cracked ribs. Her abdomen had had 'mudblood whore' burned into it with some sort of fire spell, though the skin had not been pierced anywhere. Her pelvis was crushed, and her groin was a bloody ruin that Harry didn't want to inspect too closely. Her legs were perhaps the only part of her undamaged, and Harry had little doubt that that was only because the Death Eaters had been interrupted before they got that far, not for any lack of intent.

Any guilt Harry might have felt over becoming a killer died a premature death. He extended his magic to touch hers; it was feeble, fading quickly, and Harry knew with a stark terror that nothing, nothing within his modest abilities at healing magic could handle this, and even if any of his healing potions had survived the grenades earlier, they would not be up to the task earlier.

Perhaps worst of all to him, however, was that her working eye was meeting his fiercely, and she was trying to smile at him.

"I didn't tell them anything, Harry," She gurgled, her bloody smile broadening, "They kept asking about your spells and resistance, but I didn't tell them anything."

Harry would have screamed, but his vocal cords weren't up to the task, as his mind desperately searched for something, anything he could use to save her life. Staring down at her in desperation and near-despair, his mind suddenly lit on something.

"Dobby!" He half-shouted, half croaked.

With a crack, the elf appeared beside him, and Harry turned to face him, desperate intensity in his eyes.

"Bring me the Stone!" Harry roared.

((()))

"Why won't you die woman?" Voldemort snarled as he blasted another spell at her, which she again deflected with a bare hand.

"You," Lily Potter said, continuing to advance on him as he continued to retreat, "Do not know half as much about Magic as you think. Your magic comes from my son's blood, my blood. Blood I shed for him, Blood he has now shed for another, blood that has been sacrificed, in Love, with no expectation of return for oneself. Such a creature as you has no business carrying such blood."

Voldemort screamed in rage, with a faint edge of desperation, as he continued to retreat, firing curse after curse after curse, none of which had any more effect on the Potter woman. She simply continued to advance on him, until eventually he tripped over backwards, and fell.

Fell onto the mutilated bodies of his Death Eaters, by the Cauldron where he had been reborn, the minions that Potter had killed earlier. Suddenly, Voldemort realized that all of his Death Eaters, all of them, every last one, that had come to his summons tonight, lay dead in the graveyard, and he felt very, very much alone. In the long moment where Tom Riddle's mind was lost in that sudden epiphany of loneliness, Lily Potter reached him.

"My son had a harsher life than yours ever was," Lily said, dragging Voldemort's attention back to her, "But where you chose to be the villain to try to deal with the pain of your childhood, my son chose to protect others from what he had experienced. You chose to be the Villain, he became the Hero."

And with that, she bent down and touched him, and his body disintegrated into a bloody mist, the blood rapidly separating and joining her bloody form, giving it sharper features, definition, while the rest of the mist fell to dust on the ground, leaving only the wraith of Voldemort.

"This fight is over, Riddle," Lily Potter said, standing upright again, "And you have lost."

"I will return to fight anew," Riddle's wraith said, "And I will return as many times as it takes until I triumph!"

"No," Lily said, eyeing the wraith with distaste, "You won't. Do you remember a binding oath you made to Harry, before you were reborn? Have you seen the condition your followers left Hermione in?"

Dawning horror flew across the Wraith's phantasmal features, Lily smiling at the ghostly wretch in grim satisfaction, before speaking to it one last time.

"I declare your fight with my son, Harry Potter, to be complete. You have lost."

With that, she turned and swiftly strode back towards her son, Voldemort's screams echoing behind her as his magic was painfully stripped from what remained of him in the mortal world.

((()))

"'Love you, 'arry," Hermione said faintly, her one eye gazing sadly up at Harry as she continued to bleed out.

Harry stared down at her, trembling arms reaching clumsily around to hold her mangled head.

"A-and I Love you," He said, the trembling in his body causing him to stutter slightly.

Hermione smiled again, ignoring the pain in her ruined face. A part of her wished that Harry meant that in a romantic way, even though she knew he didn't, and still wasn't really ready for that kind of thing anyways. Still, she thought, there are worse ways to die, then beside someone who Loves you enough to die for you.

Then Dobby reappeared with a crack, and proffered a small lumpy red rock to Harry, who took it in trembling hands, and after hesitating for a moment, pressed it with bloody hands against the small, spurting hole in Hermione's heart. Nothing happened, but he continued to hold it there, not knowing what else to do, and was still holding it there when his mother arrived.

"Heavens," Lily whispered quietly from above and behind him, quickly seating herself next to him and wrapping one arm around his trembling shoulders, "I didn't realize it was so bad."

Tears began to leak from Harry's eyes, and phlegm began to clog his airways as desperate hope began to fade into despairing grief. The clogging in his airways mounted, until he coughed, bringing up blood from his damaged throat as well as phlegm, and a few drops of the blood splattered onto the stone. The instant it came into contact with his blood, the stone began to glow, and Harry could feel the magic in it tingling, vibrating up and down his arms.

"There is power in the blood of sacrifice," His mother whispered beside him.

The stone melted into a luminous puddle, and poured itself into Hermione's heart through the wound that had, a moment before, been leaking her lifeblood out. The instant that it was fully within the battered organ, her entire body seized up, then started to tremble, and Harry's magical senses nearly overwhelmed him with input as her body began to glow. Flesh rippled and flowed, melting across her form and sliding swiftly back into place as potent blood magic, charged with life, powered by sacrifice and Love, coursed through Hermione Granger's body.

Thirteen seconds after his blood touched the stone, Hermione's body lay wholly intact before Harry Potter. He was so relieved that he didn't notice his hands, which had been holding the stone in place, had been displaced to rest upon her bare breast. He lunged forward, wrapping her in a hug and crying. Smiling in relief, his mother bent over behind him to wrap both of the children in a hug, as the girl fiercely clung to the two Potters above her.

((()))

"Therefore, in your deliberations, when seeking to determine the military conditions, let them be made the basis of a comparison, in this wise:

(1) Which of the two sovereigns is imbued with the Moral law?

(2) Which of the two generals has most ability?

(3) With whom lie the advantages derived from Heaven and Earth?

(4) On which side is discipline most rigorously enforced?

(5) Which army is stronger?

(6) On which side are officers and men more highly trained?

(7) In which army is there the greater constancy both in reward and punishment?

By means of these seven considerations I can forecast victory or defeat."

-Sun Tzu, Art of War, Chapter 1, Section 12-14

End Chapter 11

((()))

AN: Hmmm. I think that was 5600 words in 3 and a half hours. Pretty much my most intense writing session ever. And I did it like that 'cause one of our players was late for our gaming group tonight. Go figure. Since I didn't manage to pack all the post-climax and wrap-up into this chapter, there is definitely going to be an epilogue.

Some of this, such as the ultimate fate of the stone, and Lily Potter manifesting to rip out the Horcrux and kick Voldemort's ass, have been in the plan either since the beginning, or near the beginning. Other things, like Voldemort forgetting to tell his minions 'don't hurt the girl,' and Harry forgetting 'your minions don't hurt the girl' in the oath, just naturally progressed as a result of what the characters would do. I had intended for Voldemort to be one of the villains in the sequel, but this is how the story developed appropriate to the characters, so it's what happened. I firmly believe that Voldemort is quite insane by the time he's re-embodied, and hopefully successfully presented him as such. Most of the story, almost everything since McGonagall told Dumbledore off back in chapter 3 or 4, I forget which, has been 'this is appropriate to the characters.'

There've been a lot of comments about H/Hr shipping going on here or wanting more of it, so I'd like to make something clear. The level of friendship, trust, and dependability Harry and Hermione have shown in this story, is how I believe *friendships* should be. Yes, Hermione has been crushing on Harry, and honestly, odds are a romance of sorts will develop in the sequel, but as far as I'm concerned, this is the kind of thing a healthy friendship should look like. Such healthy friendships are so sadly lacking in western society these days though, that people who end up in such a relationship tend to immediately assume it to be a romance thing.

Of course, I also believe that a healthy romance can only be built out of a friendship relationship with that kind of trust. Not to say that romances that didn't start there can't build that sort of trust in time, but if you can't be a friend of the heart, why would you want to try for romance? I've had three burnt out romances, and two almost romances, and what's killed the ones I've had post high-school, has been lack of common ground, and lack of trust. Common ground you can build if you've got trust, without trust, you've got nothing, so the trust has to come first.