Right. So this is what we call a ridiculously long chapter. Twenty flipping pages on Word. Crazy, we know. Thanks to those who reviewed, by the way - we finally made it past one hundred! Yippee!


Battle for Hogwarts
3 June, 1997, 7:32AM

"Don't play games with me, Draco."

She was getting impatient, which wasn't helping her already irritable mood. She glared at her nephew, who was kneeling before her with his hands tied behind his back.

"I'm not playing games," Draco spat. His right eye was bruised, and there was a cut on his left cheek. His hair was matted and filthy. "I don't know where they are."

"This would be so much easier if you would just cooperate," she snarled, pulling out her wand again. She was getting tired of this.

Fear flashed in Draco's eyes at the sight of the wand. She felt a modicum of satisfaction.

"Tell me," she said softly, "or bear the consequences. Don't think I'll go easy on you because you're my sister's son."

"It doesn't matter," Draco said flatly. "She's dead. You didn't care about her anyway."

She gritted her teeth."Tell me!" she snapped.

"You can cut me to pieces for all I care," he growled back, and he looked so like Lucius for a moment that she was startled. "It's your loss, because I don't know where they are."

"Liar," she hissed, and pointed her wand at him. "Crucio!"

He screamed. She could tell he was trying not to, but the pain of a Cruciatus Curse wasn't something a mere boy could ignore. She watched him writhe on the ground, face screwed up in agony.

With a flick of her wand, the curse was lifted. He lay panting on the ground, a pitiful sight. She felt a momentary pang of guilt; what would Cissy say? But Draco was right – she was gone. Dead.

"I'll ask you one more time," she said slowly, squatting next to him and lifting his chin up with her wand. His cold gray eyes were dull with pain and fatigue. "Where are the entrances to the secret passages?"

"Kill me," he whispered, gazing unflinchingly into her eyes. "Just kill me and get it over with."

She sighed in disgust. "Why are you holding back?" she asked. She could not even begin to fathom why the stupid boy was being so difficult. "Don't you want revenge?"

"For what?" he said bitterly. "My parents' deaths?"

"For Narcissa and Lucius, for Fenrir Greyback, for Rabastan, for all the loyal Death Eaters – for the Dark Lord!"

"He's the one who killed them," Draco snarled. "Your precious Dark Lord killed my mum and dad, not Potter!"

They glared at each other. After a long, hard moment, she flicked his head away with her wand and stood back up. "The Dark Lord is never wrong," she said quietly. She was slightly taken aback at how strained her voice sounded.

Draco grunted as he twisted himself back up off the floor. "Are you…going to destroy it?"

"Yes," she answered without hesitation. And good riddance. She had never liked the place, even when she had been a student.

"What if Snape's there?"

She clenched her jaw and turned away. Severus Snape was one of the main causes of her irascible mood. Bloody lying bastard. I should have known. Deserter, traitor, coward…abandoning his master when he was needed most!

"Why would he be?" she said contemptuously. "He killed their beloved Headmaster – do you think they would allow him to return after that?" He's hiding somewhere, coward that he is. Biding his time, waiting for the moment to strike…waiting to take the throne after it's been won. That's what he's always been doing. He was never on our side. He was hanging back, waiting, plotting to take control once Potter was out of the way…

"…where they are."

She whirled around sharply to stare at him. "What?"

"I'll tell you where they are," Draco repeated. He was staring at the ground.

A smile slowly spread across her face. She didn't bother asking what had made him change his mind; she didn't care, anyway. "I see you've come to your senses," she sniffed.

"They're both in Hogsmeade," he said in a tight voice. "One is from the Shrieking Shack, where it goes to the Whomping Willow."

She nodded impatiently; that much she had found out from Wormtail. It was the other one she was interested in.

"The second one is in Honeydukes' cellar. It leads to the third floor."

"The password?"

He hesitated. He'd obviously been hoping she wouldn't know about the password.

"Dissendium," he muttered.

She made a mental note of it. If she split up her forces, they could attack from both places at once. A devastating plan, she thought in wicked glee. They don't stand a chance. At last…sweet revenge for the Dark Lord!

Draco shifted.

She looked down at him; he was still avoiding her gaze. She considered him for a moment. With a wave of her wand, the ropes binding his hands unknotted themselves. He gasped as he brought his raw, red wrists in front of his eyes. "Get up," she said curtly. "Find your little friends. The three of you will lead us there tonight."


3 June, 1997, 4:13PM

He strides across a village square that is both foreign and familiar. It is dark and quiet; the only light is that which streams through the windows of the small cottages that line the street. Laughter and bits of conversations drift out of the houses.

He walks past all these things.

Shop windows are decorated with spiders and pumpkins, the remains of Halloween and trick-or-treating. Stray candy wrappers float by him on a cool breeze. He wants to stop, to look, to observe, but his legs keep moving forward. His eyes and ears strain to see and to listen, to bask in the warmth and innocence of the small village.

He turns onto another street, darker but somehow cozier. And there, only a few paces away, is the cozy little cottage. He stops and stands in the street, unable to move any further. He gazes over the dark hedge at the sitting room window, where he sees them: A tall, black-haired man letting loose a stream of bubbles from his wand for a black-haired boy to wave his fists at. The mother, a tall, red-haired woman, sits on a nearby table and laughs.

And suddenly he hears footsteps; coldness washes over him in a crashing wave. He turns his head to see a dark figure approaching the house, a black cloak billowing in its wake. Fear grips him, but he can't move, can't offer any warning. The cloaked man sweeps past him, silent as a ghost. There is a creak as the gate is pushed open, but the family in the cottage doesn't notice.

The cloaked man flicks his wand and the front door is blasted clear off its hinges. There is a scream and the black-haired man disappears from the window.

He can suddenly hear their voices, much too clearly.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off – "

There is a loud, chilling cackle of high-pitched laughter.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of green light bursts through the window, blinding him.

The red-haired woman runs from the room and reappears in the next one, locking the door behind her. She stands in front of a crib, clutching her baby tightly to her chest.

There is a bang and the woman whirls around to face the cloaked man. She quickly sets her baby down in his crib and spreads her arms wide.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside, now."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead – "

She is begging, crying.

"This is my last warning – "

"Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy…"

The baby stands up in his crib, curious. The woman is sobbing now.

"Not Harry! Please – I'll do anything – "

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"

The woman doesn't budge, keeping her baby hidden behind her back. The cloaked man raises his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Another flash of green light –

––––––

He looks into a pair of gray eyes that gaze solemnly back.

"Just take the cup."

"No."

He shakes his head irritably; his throbbing leg makes it hard to concentrate on the handsome face swimming before him. "…Both of us."

"What?"

"We'll take it at the same time. It's still a Hogwarts victory. We'll tie for it."

The gray eyes widen in surprise. "You – you sure?"

"Yeah," he says, gritting his teeth against the pain. "Yeah…we've helped each other out, haven't we? Let's just take it together."

A grin splits the boy's face. "You're on. Come here."

He limps over toward the plinth, helped along by the boy. They're both slightly giddy with excitement as the golden gleam lights up their faces. They both reach out their hands.

"On three, right? One – two – three – "

His hand grasps cool metal. Before he can do anything else, he is jerked forward, off his feet, dragged into a whirlwind of color…

He slams into the ground with a force that makes him gasp. His leg gives way beneath his weight and he falls forward.

"Where are we?"

The boy is looking around suspiciously as he helps him to his feet. The school is gone; they are standing instead in an overgrown graveyard. "Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?" he asks.

He shakes his head. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

"I dunno." The boy sounds nervous as he pulls out his wand.

He does the same. He has the eerie feeling that someone is out there, watching them. "Wait – someone's coming."

He feels his body tense as he squints into the darkness. A dark figure suddenly emerges from the rows of grave markers before him, slowly approaching them. He can't make out the face, but the figure is small and short, with a black hood and cloak. It appears to be carrying something in its arms.

They exchange puzzled looks.

Cold sweat runs down his face as the figure draws ever nearer. He and the boy step closer to each other. "What – "

"Kill the spare."

A rush, a flash of green light –

––––––

Forgive.

Forgive who? Snape thought bitterly. Potter? For what? For being Lily Potter's son? For being the Boy Who Lived?

The Hospital Wing was empty save for him, Potter, and the Weasley girl, who had fallen into an exhausted sleep again. The other members of the Order had departed in the morning on some sort of business; nothing they cared to share with him.

Potter suddenly groaned. Snape looked at him sharply, but he made no further sounds. His face was still locked in a grimace.

Love and forgiveness.

You can.

I know you can.


3 June, 1997, 6:28PM
Great Hall, Hogwarts

Neville stared down at his plate and glumly swallowed a forkful of mashed potatoes. All around him, his fellow Gryffindors were likewise subdued. In fact, the entire Great Hall was nearly pin-drop silent – as it had been for the past few days.

"I can't stand this," Demelza finally declared, setting her fork down with a clatter that made several people jump. "It's ridiculous."

Neville sighed as he reached for his glass. He swirled its contents around before taking a sip. Everyone had found out what Harry had attempted; everyone had found out what he was. Neville could hardly believe it, even though it had already been two days.

Harry…a Horcrux. How is it possible? How could this happen?

The Ravenclaws were still looking feverishly through their books, trying to find more information. Colin and Luna had gone to visit Ginny twice. The rest of the PA was listless, unsure of what to do.

We can't help him. There's nothing we can do. Either Harry wins this battle alone…or not at all.

But that wasn't right. They had promised to defeat the Dark Dork together. They had promised to fight, to help, with everything they had. It felt wrong to be sitting here. And it was all the more frustrating, because he knew that with a twist of fate it could have been him lying in the Hospital Wing, a piece of the Dark Dork lodged in his soul.

To his right, Dean pushed away his plate and glanced at Seamus. "I don't feel like eating," he muttered.

Seamus nodded, and they both picked up their bags and stood up. "Let's go."

"Me, too."

"Wait up."

Leaving half-eaten dinners, the Gryffindors got up from their benches as one. Neville plodded out into the Entrance Hall behind Lavender and Parvati. He followed their whispers up the marble staircase, trusting them to lead him because he wasn't paying attention to where he was going.

As he shuffled down the corridors on the third floor, an odd sensation passed through him. His fingers startled to tingle and the walls seemed to close in around him. He picked his head up and glanced around; he'd been having the same feeling since this morning, and it was strongest when he was on the third floor.

He saw nothing out of place.

"Something wrong?" asked Dennis Creevey from his left.

Neville looked at him. "What? Oh...it's nothing."

But he couldn't shake off the strange feeling that the school seemed to be shrinking. He'd been uneasy for some time now, knowing there were still Death Gobblers – Bellatrix Lestrange – out there, but there was a whole new level of apprehension surrounding him now. It was almost as if – though this was absurd – as if Hogwarts herself was trying to warn him.

Against what? What more could there be?

He shook his head as he continued up the stairs.

Something wasn't right. He just didn't know what.


3 June, 1997, 10:38PM
Outskirts of Hogsmeade

"Are they ready?"

"Rodolphus is in position," Farrell confirmed.

"Good," she nodded. She liked Farrell – even though he was relatively new, he knew how to do his job and didn't complain. He had been a zealous worshipper of his master, but after the Dark Lord's death he had turned his adorations to her. Not that she minded.

She glanced over at Draco, who was sitting against a tree several paces away. His eyes were closed, and he looked paler than usual. Crabbe and Goyle hovered over him nervously.

"When I give the signal, relay the message to him," she said.

Farrell nodded and slipped his hood over his head. "I'll be waiting."

She dismissed him and he melted back into the darkness of the woods. She let a smile split her face for a moment before turning back to Draco.

"Get up," she said coldly. His eyes flew open to stare at her. "Prepare yourself. We're leaving in five minutes."

––––––

He saw them coming.

He instinctively took a step back, further into the shadows. He narrowed his eyes as he watched them glide down the street, quickly making a count as they passed him.

So many… Where are they going?

It was a good thing he had warned the others in advance; all the shops were dark and empty. Rosmerta and Madam Puddifoot had left a week earlier; Gladrags, Dervish and Banges, and Scrivenshaft's had closed down soon after; and Ambrosius Flume and his family had moved out into the countryside only two days ago.

He frowned as they continued on past the post office and Zonko's Joke Shop. Surely they weren't planning –

Ah…Honeydukes. The cellar. …How could they have known?

But then he saw them – the three boys at the head of the group, apparently in the lead. They stopped in front of Honeydukes Sweetshop and glanced back at the tall, hooded figure watching them.

So that must be Malfoy…and the other two Crabbe and Goyle. And the tall one, obviously in charge…

There was a soft bleat beside him.

"Doesn't look good," he grunted. He watched grimly as they disappeared inside the sweetshop, one by one. "Doesn't look good at all."


3 June, 1997, 10:44PM
Hospital Wing, Hogwarts

"He's a git," Bill said darkly. "A complete arse."

Sturgis sighed as several heads nodded their agreement. Bill, Charlie, Mad-Eye, Kingsley, and Tonks had just returned from a string of errands, which had included a visit to the Ministry. It apparently hadn't gone well; all three of them looked grumpy.

The rest of the Order had been attending to personal business throughout the day. Molly and Arthur had gone to the Burrow for a few hours with Fred, George, Ron, and Hermione, while Remus, Blackthorn, and Drake had gone to reestablish connections with some of the newer recruits. Minerva, Flitwick, and Sprout, of course, had been busy with the school. Sturgis had taken the chance to visit Hestia's grave outside Carlisle.

Snape seemed to have stayed in the Hospital Wing all day. According to Madam Pomfrey, he had only gotten up twice, and then only to move to the window and stare out across the lake. When Sturgis had returned, it was to find that he had fallen into a restless sleep in his chair beside Harry's bed.

"I don't think we've ever had a useful Minister of Magic," Drake said dryly, "though some people thought Scrimgeour would be better, being a retired Auror and all."

"He ought to get sacked," Charlie said, folding his arms across his chest. "I mean, what kind of idiot would let Death Eaters run free at a time like this? The Dark Dork's gone, yeah, but it was the Death Eaters that did most of the damage in the first place."

"Have you talked to Dawlish?" Remus asked.

Tonks nodded. "Him, Proudfoot, and Robards. They're all getting edgy, too, but they can't exactly do anything without Scrimgeour's permission."

"Git," Bill repeated. "If I ever – "

He was interrupted by a loud rattle. Kingsley and Tonks whipped out their wands.

A streak of silver light shot inside from the double doors and landed on the table beside Mad-Eye, where it resolved itself in the form of a goat. Minerva gasped.

It opened its mouth and a deep, gruff voice filled the room. ::Death Eaters headed your way. I counted fifty-four, but there could be more. Third floor, Gunhilda of Gorsemoor.::

Startled, Sturgis sat up in his chair as Kingsley, Tonks, and Mad-Eye immediately jumped to their feet and dashed out of the room.

"The students!" Flitwick cried.

"Drake!" Blackthorn said.

With a quick nod, Drake pulled out his wand and muttered, "Expecto Patronum!"

A silver falcon streaked past Sturgis and out the window. Two more beams of silver burst out of Bill's and Charlie's wands and disappeared into the night.

"Nicholas!" Minerva called. "Nicholas!"

Sturgis joined Drake and Blackthorn at the door, but before they could leave a pearly-white figure burst through the wall.

"You called?" Nearly Headless Nick asked breathlessly.

"Call the other ghosts," Minerva said grimly, drawing her wand. "There are Death Eaters coming to the castle!"

––––––

3 June, 1997, 10:47PM

Neville sat in the common room, staring into the fire and half-listening to the conversations around him. Nobody had gone to sleep yet – not even the younger kids – and it was slightly crowded. Seeing that there were no chairs left, several people had decided to just sprawl on the floor.

"…harder than a Stunning Charm," Dean was saying from beside him. A slim paperback lay open on his lap.

"But the Stunning Charm has greater accuracy," Colin countered.

"True," Dean conceded.

Seamus shook his head. "Yet it does less damage to – "

"Gryffindors!"

Neville looked up in surprise as the common room instantly fell silent. A moment later, Nearly Headless Nick came charging through the wall, looking frantic.

"Prefects!" he shouted. "Death Eaters coming to the castle! Prefects, get – "

Nick's voice was drowned out in the ensuing commotion. Several girls screamed as everyone jumped to their feet, talking all at once – Nick looked distraught –

Neville stood up and waved his wand. There was a loud bang; it prompted a few screams, but it had the desired effect: Everyone looked at him.

"Stay calm," he said quietly, lowering his wand. "Nobody panic. Just remember what we did last time, all right? Dean, Seamus – take everyone to the Room of Requirement. I'm going to call the rest of the PA. Colin, Dennis – come with me."

Dean and Seamus nodded, immediately taking up the roles of their missing prefects. Trusting that they would take care of things, Neville scrambled out of the portrait hole with Colin and Dennis on his heels. They sprinted down the corridors to the Room of Requirement, and Neville pulled out the golden coin from his pocket as he went. He pressed the tip of his wand to the coin, which instantly flashed and grew hot in his hand.

He pocketed the coin again and skidded to a stop before the blank stretch of wall. Colin and Dennis waited beside Barnabas the Barmy's tapestry as he began pacing back and forth.

I need a room where everyone will be safe. I need a room the Death Gobblers won't be able to get into. I need a room that will let me reach the other common rooms. I need a room where everyone will be safe. I need a room the Death –

As soon as the silver doorknob appeared, he seized it and wrenched the door open. He slipped inside, followed by Colin and Dennis, and quickly glanced around.

It was a spacious room – more than suitable for accommodating a large number of students. It was also furnished with a number of comfy-looking sofas and large armchairs. Three wooden doors stood at equal intervals in the wall before him, respectively emblazoned with an eagle, a badger, and a snake.

"Colin, take Slytherin," Neville instructed. "Dennis, you take Hufflepuff and I'll go to Ravenclaw. The doors lead to their common rooms, where I've told them to wait. Just tell them to follow you back here."

Colin and Dennis both flashed the thumbs-up, and the three of them ran for the doors. Neville yanked the Ravenclaw door open, which revealed a brightly-lit corridor. He plunged forward without hesitation.

The pounding of his feet and the sound of his heavy breathing echoed off the walls. It seemed to take ages for him to reach the end.

But there – it wasn't a door, more like a thick veil of golden mist. He barreled through it, expecting some sort of resistance –

– To find that he'd burst out of a painting. He stumbled in his surprise, but a pair of small, warm hands steadied him. He looked up to find himself face-to-face with Luna. She smiled at him and said, "Hello, Neville."

He suddenly felt very hot. He took a step backward. "I – er – Luna – "

"Does that lead to the Room of Requirement?" she asked, nodding at the painting and saving him from further embarrassing himself.

He nodded wordlessly.

"First and second years go," Anthony ordered, and a small group of students quickly stood up and hurried into the painting, slipping through it like it was made of water.

It took less than a minute to clear the common room. Anthony, Padma, and Luna, the last three, nodded before following him back through the corridor.

He ran back into the Room of Requirement to find that Dean and Seamus had arrived with the Gryffindors, but neither Colin nor Dennis had returned yet. Neville had figured it would take them longer, seeing that the Hufflepuff and Slytherin common rooms were further away. Still, he fidgeted nervously until the doors finally burst open.

Students came spilling out into the room. The older members of the PA immediately flocked to him.

"They're probably already here," he told them grimly. "We should leave now so that they can't find the door."

Dean nodded, pulling out his wand and heading toward the door. "Let's go, then!"

"All of you be careful," Neville said. "Help each other out and just remember what we've been practicing, all right?"

"For Hogwarts!" Seamus yelled, punching the air with his fist as Dean opened the door.

Immediately, they could hear screams and shouts coming from below. Neville darted away from the group and sped down the stairs.

The screaming grew louder as he neared the third floor. Flashes of light lit up the dim corridors and stairways.

He jumped the last few steps onto the fourth floor and glanced over the railing. It looked like all hell had broken loose – spells crackled and wands flashed and blood spattered and shrieks echoed through the castle.

He couldn't tell who had the upper hand; there were so many Death Gobblers – and still more pouring out of a dark hole in the wall – but there were also dozens of bright-robed people Neville had never seen before, fighting fiercely and valiantly among the staff and the Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix. Some were dueling on the stairs, pushing their way up to the fourth floor and down to the second.

That was where he saw Charlie Weasley, one of Ron's brothers, dueling viciously against two Death Gobblers – on the staircase, not a dozen paces away from him.

As he ran forward to help, Charlie bellowed, "For Ginny!" and blasted the first Death Gobbler with a jet of blue light and slammed his fist into the side of the second Death Gobbler's head. Both of them toppled over the railing.

"Charlie – behind you!" Neville called; Charlie, too busy staring at Neville in surprise, hadn't noticed the Death Gobbler sneaking up on him. "Stupefy!"

The Death Gobbler ducked, but Charlie's spell caught him on the leg and he tumbled back down the stairs, howling.

"What are you doing here?" Charlie yelled as he deflected a stray curse. "Where are the others?"

"There are more of us coming!" Neville shouted as he fired off three spells into the fray in quick succession.

As if on cue, Dean, Seamus, and Blaise came sprinting around the corner.

But there was no more time to talk – Neville was right in the thick of things now, narrowly escaping death every five seconds as spells soared over his head and whistled past his ear. He cast whatever counterjinxes and hexes and charms came to mind, not stopping to see if they hit their marks. Everywhere he turned, there was a mask lunging at him.

He brushed past Professor McGonagall once – her eyes widened in shock as she recognized him – but she didn't have the chance to yell at him as he was knocked aside by a Death Gobbler.

"Stupefy! Confundus! Petrificus – "

"Move!" someone bellowed in his ear. Neville caught a glimpse of blond hair and burly arms before he was knocked to the ground; twin jets of green light shot through the space where his head had been a split second ago.

"Watch your back, mate," his rescuer said as he hauled Neville back to his feet. He disappeared into the melee before Neville could get a proper look at his face.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Neville jumped back as a Death Gobbler crashed to the floor at his feet.

"Neville! Incarcerous!"

Neville looked up to see Lavender, Parvati, Padma, Ernie, Anthony, Justin, Hannah, and Susan standing behind the railing on the fourth floor. They were raining spells on the Death Gobblers below them as a group of sixth years protected them with Shield Charms.

Two more Death Gobblers fell, bound head-to-toe in ropes like mummies.

Neville grinned at them before diving back into the fray.

––––––

"Reducto! Stupefy!"

Remus smiled humorlessly as he saw his spells find their marks. The two Death Eaters fell backwards, but two more hurried to take their places. There were always more to take places of the fallen. But at least they had stopped streaming in from the secret passage – the statue of Gunhilda had resumed its place in front of the opening.

And the Order had its reinforcements – they had arrived just in time – making their number nearly equal to that of the Death Eaters'. They could win this. They had to win this.

"To your left!" Tonks shouted from behind him. Her quick warning allowed him to deflect the jet of yellow light and retaliate with a countercurse.

"Thanks," he said as they moved on to their next target. They were standing back-to-back at the end of the corridor, picking off any Death Eaters that came their way and warning each other of attacks.

"Stupefy! Impedimenta!"

Just beyond the group of Death Eaters they faced, Bill and Charlie had formed a devastating ring with their friends. All of them having been former dragon keepers or curse breakers, they fought ferociously under the onslaught.

"Two right, one left!" Tonks warned.

Remus nodded. "Fourth."

"Got it," she said, and as the Death Eaters attacked, they both ducked. While the Death Eaters cursed and dodged their own spells, Remus and Tonks let loose a string of Trip Jinxes. All three fell flat on their faces and were half-trampled by their surrounding comrades.

"Stupefy!"

Tonks flashed him a grin as the Stunning Charms hit their targets. "I like that one!"

Before he could respond, a small ball of light flitted up to him and exploded. He cried out in pain as the light lanced through his eyes, blinding him. There was a heavy thud and a scream, and then a thick arm had encircled his throat. Choking and gasping, he was lifted off his feet. He struggled fiercely against the tightening grip, but his strength was no match for the Death Eater's and his eyes felt like they had been forced through a shredder –

He could hear Tonks shouting, screaming something, but her voice seemed to be getting farther away…stars burst like firecrackers inside his skull and all he could think of was that he didn't want to die this way –

The Death Eater holding him lurched about, apparently under fire. His knee collided painfully with something extremely solid and he knew his neck was going to snap if his head was jerked up one more time –

And then the Death Eater dropped him like a dead weight, letting loose a string of curses. Remus collapsed on the ground, his breath returning in searing gasps and his eyes streaming. But he could see – he rolled out of the way as the Death Eater stumbled backward and tried to turn the world right-side-up again. Just as he got to his feet the Death Eater whirled around and went for his throat again. Remus raised his wand, ready to physically stab him if he had to.

But out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tonks jump up, grab one of the torches lining the wall, and promptly thrust the flame at the Death Eater's hood.

The Death Eater screamed horribly as his cloak easily caught fire. He staggered away bellowing and flapping his arms, causing further chaos as he knocked fellow Death Eaters off their feet. Tonks hastily replaced the torch and rushed to Remus' side.

"Oh my God – are you – can you – I mean, is anything – "

"I'm fine – Protego!"

Tonks swiftly helped him to his feet while the shield was still in place. And then they fought on, one near-death experience blending in with another as the battle continued, because there wasn't time for anything more…


3 June, 1997, 11:12PM

He tries to steady his friend, but the boy's legs are out of control. He still can't believe what's just happened – it broke – but there are more pressing matters at hand. The sounds of shattering glass and rock being blasted apart surround him. His shoulders ache from the tension, but he can't relax – not yet –

His friend is apologizing profusely, but he's not really listening. Too many things are happening, too many spells rocket around him, too many thoughts – regrets – fears – are colliding into each other in his head. "It doesn't matter!" he says, trying to figure out how to make the floundering legs stop. "Just try and stand, let's get out of – "

"Dubbledore!" the boy shouts, staring over his shoulder.

"What?" He can't quite trust his ears – he might not have heard right, in this din –

"DUBBLEDORE!"

He turns to look, and relief floods him like a tidal wave. Albus Dumbledore dashes into the room, absolute fury written all over his face. He watches in awe as the fleeing Death Eaters – they don't stand a chance – are rounded up like mindless cattle.

But the gaunt, black-haired man on the dais hasn't noticed, and neither has his opponent. They continue to duel, unaware of their surroundings, unaware of anyone but each other, mocking grins gracing their faces.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" the black-haired man yells, laughing. The jet of red light that has just missed him smashes into the wall.

His opponent snarls, her heavy-lidded eyes alight with rage. She twirls her wand, releasing another jet of red light – he watches in mounting horror as time slows to a snail's pace – and the black-haired man doesn't move, he's still laughing – and the spell catches him square in the chest.

He releases his still-floundering friend and jumps down the steps, pulling out his wand as he goes. Nothing seems to be moving fast enough, and a shrill, triumphant scream rips fills the room.

The black-haired man seems suspended in the air for a moment, his body arched like a bow, curved in an impossible way, but he's falling, falling, and no one is there to catch him.

The tattered veil on the dais flutters as the black-haired man passes through it, stirred by an invisible wind. His heart constricts as time crashes back to normal – he's reached the floor, he makes to run behind the veil, to help the man back to his feet. But as he sprints forward, a strong arm encircles his chest and pulls him back, chokes out words in his ear –

"There's nothing you can do, Harry."

––––––

He stands on the hill, looking down at the graveyard.

Two witches and a wizard stand in a ring behind a cluster of graves, facing the five cloaked men surrounding them. They exchange spells and counterspells faster than the eye can see, dueling intensely as wands become blurs and magic crackles in the air.

The wizard's straw-colored hair is matted with blood, as is the pink hair of the shorter witch. Their robes are ripped and torn and splattered with dark red, but they react quickly to curses sent their way. The second witch – black-haired, tall – awkwardly wields her wand with her left hand, slower and clumsier than the other two. Her right arm is held close to her chest, soaking her shirt with blood.

The Death Eaters have noticed this, and they aim mainly for her. Outnumbered and disadvantaged, the wizard and witches begin to falter.

A jet of orange light grazes the wizard's cheek. He tries to retaliate, but the hem of his cloak suddenly twists around his legs and he stumbles backward. The jet of green light meant for him soars past him and catches the shoulder of the black-haired witch. Her wand drops nerveless fingers as she gasps in pain; she loses her balance and falls down beside the wizard.

The witch left standing deflects a hex but doesn't move fast enough to dodge the next two spells, and she, too, crumples to the ground. The wizard frantically casts a series of Shield Charms around his companions as he scrambles back to his feet. In his desperation, he manages to disarm a Death Eater and Stun him.

A second later, his shields disintegrate. Despite her efforts, the pink-haired witch still hasn't gotten back up; instead, she casts more Shield Charms from her position. The black-haired witch staggers to her feet, her wand back in her left hand, and she fires off two jinxes before the shields disappear again.

A deflected curse hits a small marble headstone, which promptly shatters. The unfortunate Death Eater who had been standing before it is sent flying through the air. The remaining three attack with greater ferocity.

There is a scream as a jet of blue light hits the pink-haired witch in the stomach; the black-haired witch spins around to check on her friend, leaving her back exposed.

The smallest Death Eater, seeing his chance, immediately flicks his wand at her. The wizard, several paces away, sees this and shouts a warning. The black-haired witch whirls back around, her mouth half-open and her wand half-raised –

The spell slams into the witch's chest, knocking her backwards. Blood sprays out in an arc like a brilliant fountain. The wizard's mouth opens in horror as she falls, falls –


3 June, 1997, 11:39PM
Fifth floor, Hogwarts

The smoke closed in around them, and Molly forced herself to calm down. She hadn't seen this much bloodshed since…since…

"Molly, stay close," Arthur warned. They were cautiously making their way down the seemingly-empty corridor, back toward the stairs. Molly tried to keep her gaze on the back of Arthur's head as she followed in his footsteps, tried to ignore the slick feel of the floor beneath her shoes and the bodies piled up against the wall. She took a deep breath and sought to comfort herself with the thought that her children were safe – Ginny was back in the Hospital Wing, which had been securely locked and warded and barricaded; Ron was with Hermione and Blackthorn and Drake; Fred and George had been doubled over with glee the last time she had seen them; and Bill and Charlie were wreaking right havoc back on the third floor.

"We're almost there," Arthur murmured. "Kingsley should be on the fourth – aargh!"

Molly screamed as Arthur stumbled backwards, his shoulder cut and bleeding profusely.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Molly, get back!" Arthur shouted, roughly shoving his wife back the way they'd come. A jet of green light shot over their heads and smashed into the wall. "Expelliarmus! Stupefy!"

Curse the fog, Molly thought as she and Arthur sprinted back down the corridor, shooting off the occasional spell over their shoulder. All they could hear was two sets of footsteps and heavy breathing chasing them.

"Here!" Arthur hissed, dragging her around the corner. Molly stood flat against the wall as Arthur chanced a quick glance at their pursuer.

"Arthur, your shoul- "

"Avada Kedavra!"

Cursing, Arthur ducked as another jet of green light careened around the corner. He shot back to his feet and fired off a barrage of spells. "Molly, stay back – "

But Molly wasn't in the mood to be protected. These foul Death Eaters were destroying her children's lives; they had taken her friends and family, and she wasn't about to stand back and watch them take her husband, too.

She pushed aside Arthur's restraining hand and stepped out into the corridor again. There were two Death Eaters, as she'd expected, both of them tall and brawny. Masks and hoods concealed their faces, but knowing who they were wouldn't have made a difference to her.

She and Arthur stepped forward together, their wands at the ready.

The Death Eater she faced cocked his head. "More Weasleys, hmm?" he drawled. "You'll be the last to go, and we'll be rewarded for finishing off the blood traitors!"

Fear suddenly gripped Molly's heart. The last…to go?

"He's lying!" Arthur shouted, advancing toward his opponent. "Don't listen to him, Molly!"

The Death Eaters merely laughed as they, too, raised their wands.

Arthur attacked.

The Death Eater quickly repelled the attack and the duel began. His companion approached Molly, lazily waving his wand back and forth. "You'll never make it out of here alive," he sneered.

"Speak," Molly snapped, sudden rage flooding her, "for yourself. Stupefy!"

And then they were dueling, locked in the most intense struggle Molly had ever been a part of. The Death Eater was good; surprisingly so. But all the pent-up restlessness – a result of always being left at home, to wait and fret and worry – and the constrained fury and revenge – for Bill, who would bear his scars for the rest of his life; for Charlie and Fred and George, who had given so much to the Order and asked for nothing in return; for Ron and Hermione, who had unhesitatingly sacrificed their childhoods for this war; for Harry and Ginny, who had suffered more than the rest of them put together; for Hestia and Hagrid and Albus; for Fabian and Gideon – all of this fueled her on.

She was not going to die here, not at the hands of some lousy Death Eater.

"Stupefy! Tarantallegra!"

The sudden force of her attacks appeared to take the Death Eater by surprise. He lurched backwards; the Stunning Charm was deflected, but her second spell caught the Death Eater's leg. He went crashing to the ground with a yell, cursing and floundering.

Seizing her chance, Molly whipped around and found the hefty length of wooden beam she had caught sight of earlier.

"Accio beam!" she shouted.

The wooden beam shot into her hand, and as the Death Eater stood up, snarling, she promptly brought it down on his head with all her might.

There was an almighty crack. The Death Eater slumped back to the ground, motionless.

She dropped the wooden beam and stepped back, shocked at what she had just done. Her arms were trembling.

She tore her gaze away and shook her head roughly. Arthur – where's Arthur?

There was a crash from somewhere up ahead. Heart leaping, Molly hurried forward into the fog.

"Relashio!" she heard Arthur yell. There was another crash; the Death Eater cursed –

Molly burst through the fog to find the two of them dueling fiercely, sparks flying from their wands. The Death Eater was limping, and Arthur had a fresh cut across his cheek. Molly cursed silently, wondering how she could get a shot in without risking the chance of hitting Arthur, too –

A sudden bang echoed through the corridor, and she saw Arthur blasted away. He hit the wall hard, his wand clattering to the floor.

"Arthur!" Molly screamed as she saw the Death Eater make a slashing motion with his wand. Arthur would never retrieve his wand in time – she couldn't reach him –

"Protego!"

The Death Eater's spell was mere inches from Arthur when a giant orange bubble popped up around him. It reverberated as the spell made contact.

The Death Eater snarled in fury, but before he could raise his wand again, a jet of red light caught him in the chest and sent him flying back into the opposite wall.

"Dad!"

Molly's heart seemed to stop.

There, running out of the smoke toward his father, was Percy.

Arthur snatched his wand off the floor and looked up. His eyes widened as he saw who had saved him.

"Dad, are you all right?" Percy shouted, kneeling beside his father and grabbing his shoulders. "Merlin's bloody beard, Dad, you shouldn't be up here by– Mum!"

Molly felt her eyes begin to water as her third-eldest son got back to his feet. "P-Percy…"

"What – what are you doing here?" Arthur said, the sharpness of his voice attenuated by his bewilderment.

Percy looked down at the floor, suddenly remembering that he wasn't on the best of terms with his father. "I – I was with Dawlish when Kingsley's message came in," he explained uncomfortably. "I figured everyone would be here, and I couldn't – I couldn't just let – I mean, if anything – " He stopped, sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Dad – I – I've been a right git. I was wrong – wrong about everything – and I know sorry won't cut it, but I just – "

"Percy," Arthur interrupted gently, putting a hand on his son's shoulder. Percy looked up, surprise evident on his face. "It's all right. I know. I'm just…just glad you're here."

"Oh, Percy…" Molly breathed out a shaky sigh as she looked up at him. "I didn't know – I always hoped – "

"I know, Mum," Percy said softly, reaching out and hugging her. "I'm sorry. I just hope Bill and Charlie and –"

"Arthur!" Molly gasped, suddenly pulling back from the embrace. "Arthur, the children – "

"What happened?" Percy said sharply.

Arthur looked distraught; despite what he'd said, Molly knew that the Death Eater's words had planted that seed of doubt in his heart, too…they didn't know for sure if –

"The Death Eater," Arthur said tightly, "he – he mentioned – he said that all the Weasleys – said we were the last ones to go…"

"No!" Percy said, looking shocked. "That's impossible! I just saw Bill and Charlie downstairs with Fred and George! And Kingsley said Ron was with Hermione on the second floor."

Arthur sighed.

Molly buried her face in Percy's shoulder and sobbed with relief.


3 June, 1997, 11:52PM

The boy thrashes about, struggling against a Death Eater twice his size. His wand falls to the ground as he claws vainly at the hands around his throat.

But a roar pierces the air like a peal of thunder as a huge man comes bounding up, fury written all over his rugged face – "GET OFF HIM!"

And the boy is released as his captor is hauled into the air. The half-giant bellows as he lifts the Death Eater and tosses him aside like a sack of pumpkins.

"Neville," the half-giant says worriedly, peering down at the boy who is still on the ground.

"Behind you!" the boy shouts in sudden panic, staring at the three wands that have suddenly been drawn. They all point to the half-giant's back. "Hagrid, look – "

"Avada Kedavra!"

The boy is frozen, unable to move. Terror spreads across his face as three jets of green light blossom from the Death Eaters' wands. The eerie light of the spells illuminates the half-giant's face, brows furrowed and mouth open as he turns around, his tattered pink umbrella half-raised –

The spells slam into the half-giant's chest. The boy leaps to his feet, a heartrending cry ripped from his throat –

"HAGRID, NO!"

––––––

He curses the spell.

He wants to scream, wants to move, wants to be seen.

The traitor and the old man stare at each other, unaware of his presence. Hatred blazes in the dark eyes; the blue ones only reflect the light of the torch blazing on the wall.

He fights the invisible chains that render him immobile, but it's a futile struggle. Behind the traitor stand his fellow Death Eaters – three of them, four including the werewolf – all of them silently watching.

"Severus…"

The old man has abandoned his persuasive words. He can only beg; the plea is evident in his voice. And it scares him, far more than the Inferi in the cave, than the green liquid, than the prospect of destroying Horcruxes and facing Voldemort.

Because for the first time, the old man is at another's mercy. Everyone can see it – he no longer has control of the situation. He has lost his influence over fate, when before he could change destinies with a wave of his wand, with a single word. And the blue eyes flicker as they stare into the dark.

"Severus…please…"

He feels like he's choking, suffocating. Tears sting his eyes as dread fills his chest, because he knows, somehow, that the impossible is going to happen.

And the traitor's voice suddenly seems very distant as it utters the final curse; the wind howls around him as he is whirled away from the tower, away from the old man who is falling, falling –

––––––

Battle rages around him.

He stands in the midst of a bloody field; a field he soon recognizes as the grounds of his school. Spells flash and crackle and flare. People scream and fall and die. Bodies pile up around him – Death Eaters, centaurs, students, werewolves, Aurors. Acrid smoke hangs in the air like a deadly fog.

He stands in the midst of the field and wants to cry.

He just wants it to stop. He just wants there to be no more blood, no more killing, no more pain. He just wants to lie down and sleep, forever and ever, until history swallowed up this war in its dusty pages.

But the world doesn't care about what he wants – has never cared about what he wants. And this time, he is alone. There are no friends to protect him, to encourage him, to fight alongside him. He is alone in the darkness, in the slaughter and chaos…

Please…please stop. I…I just want this to stop. I want to go home.

And even as he thinks this, the battle around him slowly dims. The sounds seem farther away; the spilled blood doesn't touch him…

Is that what you want, Potter? a cold voice whispers from across the field. You want it to stop?

Well, that's a pity. Because you'll never get what you want – not anymore. From now on, we play games by my rules. I will take everything that is dear to you and destroy it; I will destroy you utterly and so completely that death will be a gift.

He turns around slowly, knowing all too well what he will face.

Red eyes…white face…slits for nostrils…

Lord Voldemort stands before him, a grotesque smile twisting his features.

The familiar rage burns within him, but he is too weary. Too tired to think of another spell. Too exhausted to raise his wand again. Too sick of this war, this life, to keep fighting.

That's right, Potter. This is the end. Admit it; you always knew you could never win. Not when it comes down to raw power, because your strength comes from the part of me that resides in you. And you have defeated me, time and again, out of luck and chance. But now you've run out of both.

Voldemort reaches his hand inside his robes and draws his wand, never once looking away. He, too, is untouched by the anarchy around him. His only focus is the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen, the prophesied nemesis who has thwarted him more times than he cares to remember…

The Chosen doesn't know what to do. His wand still hangs limply by his side, pointing uselessly at the ground. He gazes into the red eyes, feeling nothing and everything at once. Hogwarts is falling; its walls crumbling, the lake tinged pink with blood, the oaken doors burned and broken. He doesn't know who has been given to death and who still fights on. And he still makes no effort to move as Voldemort's wand is raised into the air, pointing directly at his heart.

This…

Is…

The…

End...!

And then they emerge from the shadows.

Shining silver figures, glowing brightly in the dark fog, approach him. Smiling faces crowd around him from all sides, drifting past Voldemort and blocking out the carnage and the bloodshed.

The first three are instantly recognizable.

Ron, Hermione, Ginny –

They reach out and embrace him, filling him with sudden warmth and comfort. The next four are also endearingly familiar.

James, Lily, Remus, Sirius –

Other faces, familiar faces, beam at him and extend their hands.

Neville, Luna, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati –

He forgets the battle and smiles back, the weights gone from his shoulders. All the people he ever knew are gathering beside him in an ever-expanding sea, placing their hands on his, lending him strength.

Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, Lee, Charlie, Bill, Kingsley, Tonks –

Memories flash across his mind. "Fifty feet with a broomstick!" – "Youngest player in over a century!" – "The Golden Snitch – "

Oliver, Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Ritchie, Jimmy, Demelza –

He feels joy like he has never felt before – feels like a child laughing for the first time.

Colin, Dennis, Cho, Cedric, Fleur, Krum –

He eagerly grasps the outstretched hands. He's afraid his heart might burst from all the emotion, but he keeps searching the crowd, wanting more…

Mad-Eye, Sturgis, Hestia, Blackthorn, Drake –

Hagrid, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Slughorn, Lockhart –

The crowd parts, revealing Voldemort again. His smile is gone and fury blazes behind the eyes.

You have power, Tom. You have strength that far surpasses mine. But I have something that you don't.

I have something worth fighting for.

But something isn't right. It isn't complete – not yet.

He looks around, wondering who has been forgotten. Lily comes up behind him and wraps her arms around his shoulders; James stands beside her looking proud. Ginny holds his free hand – holds it tightly.

Who's missing? he asks. Who's not here?

No one answers him; Lily shakes her head sadly. She touches her hand to his scar, then to his heart.

He frowns. Mum…?

She repeats the gesture, but offers nothing more.

Tell me, Mum. I don't understand.

Her hand drops to her side as she shakes her head again.

He stares pleadingly at her.

Please…I don't understand.


Up Next: The battles continue, but Harry only has so much time before Voldemort decides he's not going to be stopped by a bunch of transparent silver figures…

Yeah, we didn't put all the names because the list would probably go on for a couple pages. And yes, we realized in that first part way up there that Bella should have been asking Wormtail where the secret passages were, considering he was a Marauder, instead of poor old Draco. But we like torturing Malfoy, so deal with it. :)

Please review so we stop sounding so pathetic… This took so much effort to write! ;)