It was with heavy hearts that the rebels allowed Harry and Hermione to pass through them, and watched as the enemy hoard parted for them.
"Why didn't Riddle just shoot them down?" Harry heard someone whisper.
"He wants to do it himself," the sombre voice of Neville Longbottom replied, and Harry turned his head to catch a glimpse of his friend, bloody and bruised but with a hard gleam in his eye. He nodded; Neville nodded to him in return. Neville would get as many of their people through this as possible, Harry knew that. It was a small comfort to him in that moment.
As soon as they had passed, Harry and Hermione heard the clang of metal on metal which told them that the fighting had resumed once again. If only King Albus would hurry up his attack, perhaps some of his most loyal supporters would still be left alive in his kingdom come sunrise, Harry thought bitterly.
He glanced at Hermione, she was very pale. As soon as they were out of the guards' view, Harry spun her around to face him. "Hermione-"
"I know what you are going to say, and you can forget it," she cut across him. "I am coming with you. We are in this together, Harry, and if you think I'm going to abandon you now..."
Harry sighed. "I expected as much."
"Harry," Hermione said suddenly, "I just wanted tell you that I... I just..." her eyes welled up with tears, which she furiously brushed aside.
Harry smiled. "I know," he said, and hugged her. "Me too."
Hermione's head was buried in his chest so her words were muffled, but he understood her none the less, perhaps because his thoughts were running on a similar path: "I wish Ron was here."
They pulled apart, and shared a sad smile. "Yeah," Harry said. "But hey... we might see him soon enough, eh?"
It shouldn't be funny, but none the less the two youths laughed; laughed in the face of all the fear and uncertainty and their own impending deaths. And they both thought, 'at least we're not alone'.
…
The throne room was ornate: a large square space with pillars going up two columns, effectively splitting the room in three sections, the middle which led up to a massive throne towards the far end of the room. Deep shadows left several areas of the room in complete darkness; only on the throne fell a single casting of light from a window above it. Looking at the throne, Harry wondered what the carvings at the bottom were, but after a moment he realised with horror that they were supposed to be humans, grotesquely deformed, thin and with expressions of agony on their faces, all supporting the throne. There were small glints of red where the sunlight hit them, and as if by a trick of light it was almost as if they were ablaze. It was appalling; was this how Lord Riddle viewed his people? Harry had spent his entire life isolated in the forest, he did not know much about life in the outside world... but from what he had heard while living among the villagers, the kingdom was being held in a vice grip by Riddle, and those that could remember the reign of Albus all reminisced about how much better life was. 'Well,' thought Harry, 'maybe soon it will be like it again.'
Harry and Hermione entered the room silently, and looked around. The room appeared to be empty, at first, but the shadows played tricks on their eyes, and they were not sure what exactly they were seeing.
"So you have come," a cold voice spoke from the darkness.
"Who is there?" Hermione called, and Harry was surprised by how confident she sounded. "Show yourself!"
"Ah," the voice replied, "I see you brought a friend. Too scared of dying alone like your parents, are you Harry?"
"I'm not scared!" Harry yelled, and in that moment it was true that he was more defiant.
"No?" the silky voice spoke, and out of the darkness to their right came Lord Riddle, holding a tightly bound and gagged Ron, who struggled vainly against his restraints.
"Ron," Harry heard Hermione gasp, and grabbed her wrist to stop her rushing forward.
"I am glad I did not completely miss the mark after all," Riddle said. He looked from Ron to Harry and Hermione with an air of feigned interest. "I was aiming for the girl, of course, as I know you two have become rather... acquainted," he nodded at Harry, "But this boy interfered. I assumed he would be one of her obnoxious relatives from the village but... I suppose not." He smiled.
Ron was still thrashing wildly against Riddle, his eyes wide and imploring. Harry could almost hear him yell, 'Run! You idiots, run!' in his head, but he just shook his head ever so slightly to let Ron know that no, they were not going anywhere. Ron rolled his eyes and made an exasperated grunt, continuing to struggle.
"Girl," Riddle said suddenly, directing his attention at Hermione. "What is this young man's name?" He indicated the thrashing Ron.
Hermione said nothing, but continued to stare at Ron, wide-eyed.
"I said," Riddle said, drawing his sword and holding it to Ron's neck; Ron immediately stopped thrashing. "What is his name?"
"Ron!" Hermione shrieked, "Please, it's Ron, it's Ron!"
Harry did not trust to let go of her hand, it was all that kept her from rushing at Riddle herself... or collapsing on the floor, he was not quite sure. It also helped him calm down himself, remind him that rash actions at this point would only get them all killed.
"Ron..." Riddle whispered, pressing his blade still more firmly into Ron's neck. Hermione was shaking beside Harry, who himself could not breathe, not blink, not think. "But surely not... as in Ronald?" A small, twisted smile formed on the Dark Lord's lips, contorting his face into something almost as grotesque as the faces carved on the throne. "How about that. I suppose he is one of the brat princess' brothers after all. Fate is funny that way, isn't it?"
Harry was not in any capacity to try to make sense of Riddle's words right now, all he could do was desperately clasp Hermione's hand and try to come up with some, any way to get Ron away from that sword...
"It is also funny," Riddle continued conversationally, "How I had originally summoned you here for a very entertaining game of either or... I was going to ask you, Harry, if you would prefer to let your friend here die or take his place... but since you brought another friend, let us make this interesting." Riddle snapped is fingers and Harry heard movement from behind him, but before he could react he felt a tug, and looked down at his hand in horror: Hermione's had been ripped away from his, and he spun around to see two guards holding Hermione, who cried out in alarm, fighting as hard as Ron had to get out of their hold.
Harry heard Ron's muffled yells from behind him, and Riddle's high-pitched, cruel laughter.
"Ah, the choices we must make in life," Riddle said quietly. "Now is the time for one such choice, Harry. Decide. The girl? Or the long lost Burrow son?"
Harry stared, wide-eyed at Hermione, who had silent tears running down her tracks. "Choose Ron, Harry," she whispered. "I love him."
A loud muffled groan sounded from behind Harry, and he knew what Ron had been trying to articulate: "Don't you dare."
Harry looked into Hermione's eyes for a long moment, and smiled slightly. He saw in her so much love, compassion and bravery, and in the few short months he had known her, he had already begun to feel like he had known her his whole life. After a few moments Harry turned away from her, back to Ron and Riddle. He looked at Ron, his best friend Ron, who he had spent his whole life playing with laughing with, fighting with. He could not imagine a life without him.
"Well, boy?" Riddle sneered, "We don't have all day."
The decision was not hard; there had never really been one. "Take me," Harry said. He ignored the cries of both his friends, and continued to stare directly into Riddle's eyes. "Let them both go, and take me. I'm the one you want. Not them. Let them go." Harry looked right at Riddle, not blinking. He would not be afraid, he told himself. He smiled slightly, imagining Ron and Hermione, forming a life together in a kingdom run by Albus. Free. Harry would be able to give them that.
"I was hoping you would say that," Riddle said softly, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "However..." He paused, watching Harry's face pale once again. "As I told you before, Harry, it was supposed to be you or ONE of your friends. And once you had chosen to sacrifice yourself, as you undoubtedly would have done just like your mother dearest... well, why should I keep any promises I had made you? I am not a great believer in happy endings, Harry. Instead, you can watch your friends die."
"NO!"
Several things suddenly happened very fast: Harry slammed himself backwards into Hermione and the guards holding her, making them all topple to the ground. Meanwhile Harry saw out of the corner of his eye a movement of flame by the throne - had it actually caught fire? - and the next moment he heard a yell and a thud. Harry jumped to his feet, drawing his sword, and rushed forward, only to stop dead in his tracks. Ron was lying on the floor, still bound and gagged, while Riddle was struggling with -
"Ginny!" Harry called, in breathless surprise. His sword was still raised, but he didn't dare strike in case he hit her.
Riddle grabbed her by the scalp and spun her around, holding her tightly to him. "Don't come any closer," he hissed, using Ginny as a shield against Harry while he struggled to regain his sword which was half trapped under Ron's body.
"Harry, just do it," Ginny panted, "Please."
Harry was torn. This was his chance to kill Riddle, his one chance to save his friends, but...
WHOOOOOOSH!
Harry felt the arrow whip past his ear and saw it hit Riddle's shoulder, the one exposed part of his body. He cried out and stumbled, allowing Ginny to tear herself away. Harry did not stop to look around, he knew who had fired that arrow; instead he rushed forward, raising his sword above his head just as Riddle rolled to the floor and wrenched his own sword free; Ron groaned as the sword cut his side but it must be shallow, the angle... Harry plunged his sword down just as Riddle raised his own with a roar, and as metal met metal, the red and green hilts collided...
It was like a current rushed through Harry, a strength he had never known surged into his limbs, his head, it filled his heart with a song of the purest hope... and he felt his father, and mother, almost like they were speaking to him, urging him on from just beyond his reach, and he felt Hermione, her arrow in Riddle's body somehow connecting them, their strengths.
And he met Riddle's blows, every one, filled with this new strength and determination. He parried, he blocked, with no effort at all, and Riddle's eyes were wide, he was shocked, fearful.
And then, "It is time," a voice whispered, a voice he did not recognise, "It is time to do what I could not. End it, Harry."
And Harry did. He plunged his sword deep, through Riddle's heart, and felt the pressure shift as Riddle fell, still in wide-eyed bewilderment, to the floor.
Harry gasped, letting go of the sword that was still embedded in the dead Dark Lord's chest. As soon as his fingers left the hilt, Harry felt the connection - whatever it was - break, and found himself back in the dark throne room of Hogswarth, and heard his own deep, heavy breaths fill the total silence which had descended.
He turned, slowly, to face his friends - but where he expected to see only Ron, Hermione, Ginny and a few guards he instead saw the throne room filling up with people, knights, it seemed, and rebels, and closest of all stood... King Albus himself.
"You did it, my boy," the old king said kindly, and Harry realised that this was the voice be had heard only moments before, urging him on. "It is over."
Those were the last words Harry heard before collapsing, falling to the floor and blacking out on the spot.
