Sorry for the delay again - soccer season's in full swing and school starts later this week, so we've been even busier than usual. And sorry if this chapter sounds...choppy. We wrote it in sections because of the time constraints and...well, it sounded weird to us. Oh well. And thanks for the reviews, by the way. :)
The Last Stand – Forgiveness is God's greatest gift. – Manuel Aringarosa, The Da Vinci Code, Dan Brown
"Severus?"
He looked over his shoulder, frowning – he knew that voice.
"Albus?"
Somehow, he wasn't surprised that the old man had found him. But it was still strange to see him, to talk to him as if nothing had gone wrong.
"Are you still here?" Albus asked as he walked up and stopped beside him. The old man was standing so close to him that his hand brushed Albus' robes. They looked not at each other, but straight ahead.
He was glad Albus had come. He had been standing here, just inside the Forest, watching Potter for a long time. Shining silver figures had just begun flocking to the boy, drifting out from the surrounding forest. There were so many of them that they had blocked the Dark Lord from his view.
"I can't go any further," he said musingly. He had tried several times to follow the silver figures that kept sweeping past him, but there seemed to be a barrier around the edge of the forest – a barrier that only affected him. "Am I supposed to be over there?"
Albus finally turned to him, looking him up and down with a knowing glint in his eye. Frowning, Severus looked down at himself – and found that his body was the same transparent silver as the others. His frown grew as he looked back at Potter. "I am supposed to be there."
Albus smiled and turned his attention back to Potter.
"Then why can't I go?" he asked.
"Look at Harry," Albus said, ignoring his question. Severus felt a pang of annoyance, but he obliged. He could see Potter clearly, even though he was at least several dozen paces away. James Potter was standing behind him – they could have passed for twins – and Lily Potter had her arm around his waist. The Weasley girl held his hand while Granger and Ron Weasley stood at his side.
Severus held his breath; how long had it been? Eighteen years – eighteen long, terrible years since he had last seen Lily Evans Potter. She was still as he remembered her – same flowing hair, same almond eyes, same bright smile…
He couldn't hear what was being said, but it seemed that Potter was asking her a question. In reply, she touched a hand to his forehead, then to his chest.
"Do you see, Severus?" Albus said softly.
Severus shook his head. Lily repeated the gesture, but Potter seemed as confused as he was. "I don't understand."
"You must try harder."
Severus looked away from Lily and glared at the old man. "I've had enough riddles, Albus. How am I supposed to try harder if I don't even know what I'm trying to do? Am I supposed to forgive Harry Potter? Lily Evans? James Potter? Because I can't, Albus, not on – "
"You know I have more faith in you than anyone else," Albus interrupted quietly. "I always have."
Severus stared at him, his anger slowly fading into despair. "…How could you be so stupid, Albus?" he whispered. "How could you trust me?"
"How could I not? Answer me that, Severus. How could I not?"
"I killed you, Albus! I murdered you in cold blood! I was a spy, a traitor, a double-agent. I've been relaying information to the Dark Lord for over a decade; I gave him everything he wanted. Potter told you, again and again. Nobody believed me but you. Why?"
"Because I know you, Severus. It's true – you gave Tom everything he asked for. But that was it, wasn't it? You gave him nothing more than what he asked for."
"That was for my own benefit! Not the Dark Lord's, not yours, not the Order's – mine! I work myself, and I always have!"
"Always?"
The question stopped him short.
"…No," he answered, staring at the ground. "Not always. Not…not in the beginning."
"Yes. In the beginning, you worked for Tom," Albus said in a conversational tone. "You were his loyal Death Eater. I knew the Dark Arts enthralled you, as they had enthralled him. And you were drawn to his power; drawn to the fact that he, like you, was a half-blood; drawn to the idea that together you could exact revenge on the Muggles and half-bloods that had so tortured you…"
Albus sighed as he finally took his gaze off Potter.
"The Sorting Hat told me about you. Your aptitude, your potential, the traits that the Founders of this school so treasured. And I hoped I could help you exploit those talents – "
"So you could use me? Like you used Potter?"
Albus was quiet for a moment. "Everyone is used at one time or another. In a world of manipulation and deceit, there is only quick death for those who play fair. I am not saying that it is right; only that it is necessary. So yes, I used you, as I used Harry. I offered you a place here, with the Order, hoping you would be willing to join us. And I must thank you again, for trusting me then as you trusted me later."
"…Trusting you? Who said I trusted you?"
Albus looked vaguely bemused. "Don't you?"
"Why should I trust you?" Severus spat, his anger returning in a rush. "You deserted me! You told me all those pretty lies and then you left. Just – just like Lily."
"Severus," the old man said, and there was an unbearable sadness in his eyes. "Severus, I would never desert you. I never have."
"Yes you did!" he said furiously, hating Albus more than ever, hating that sadness, that weakness. "You're right – I did love the Dark Arts. I was the loyal Death Eater. I was useful there; I was wanted, feared, obeyed. And then you came to me again, told me that it wasn't what I thought it was. Told me that the Dark Lord didn't treat me – trust me – the way I deserved. Not really. And you told me about all these miracles of love – how it can heal everything, how it's the most powerful magic in the world – and you told me I could be loved. Truly loved. And I believed you, Albus. Goddamn me, I believed you."
"Because it's true, Severus. You know it's true."
"NO, IT'S NOT!" he shouted; the fact that he was losing control over his emotions only enraged him further. "Love didn't save Lily Evans, did it? Love didn't save Sirius Black, or Hestia Jones, or Rubeus Hagrid – and it's not going to save your beloved Potter, either!"
"No," Dumbledore said calmly, and there was the tiniest hint of steeliness in his voice. "You still don't understand."
"You're the one that doesn't understand," he spat. "You're a hypocrite, Albus. Oh, it was all fine and dandy then, after you'd convinced me to join the Order. You wouldn't have gotten half as far as you did without me. I'll tell you the truth, Albus – I felt good. Better than I ever had as a Death Eater. You know how to praise a man like no other.
"But then, of course, Potter comes along – another Potter. And then it's Potter needs this, Potter needs that; Potter did this, Potter did that; Potter said – "
"He was a boy – "
"Even now, everything's for him. Convenient, wasn't it? Such a good excuse to forget about me," he sneered, enjoying the dismay on the old man's face. "You were just so enraptured by his sparkling personality, I imagine. 'Never mind bitter old Snape; just run along, Harry, and stay out of harm's way!' Are you even aware of the sheer number of rules he's broken? How much trouble he's caused, how many lives he's cost the Order? All because of his arrogance, his pride – just like his father. But you always had an excuse for him, didn't you?"
"Severus – "
"And all that time, I was always there for you. Despite the fact that you were never there when I needed you. I came whenever you called, your obedient servant, someone to unburden yourself to, someone to fall back on, someone expendable – "
"You were never – "
" – Someone to do the most impossible of tasks, the dirtiest – "
" – Because I trusted you," Dumbledore interrupted firmly. "Because I believed in you like no one else. When others needed reassurance and encouragement, you were always steadfast and reliable. I thanked Merlin every day that you were with me; that you were one of us."
"You didn't act like it." He hated the petulant accusation in his tone.
"I thought you would know," Dumbledore said softly.
"Well I didn't," he snapped. "It was my mistake for listening to you, you and your little lies. Don't speak to me of love. You only pretended to be kind and caring when what you really wanted was to use me. You're full of nothing but manipulation and deception and lies – taking advantage of me, of Potter, of the entire Order!"
Dumbledore was quiet for a long, long time. Severus got the faint impression that the outline of the old man had faded, just a bit.
"…Is that what it was?" he asked finally.
"Don't try talking yourself out of this," Severus spat. "You can't fool me anymore. I know what you are."
"You were jealous."
Severus glared at him.
"Jealous of Harry. Of the attention I gave him. You felt that I no longer cared for you; that I had replaced you."
He remained stubbornly silent.
The old man sighed heavily. "I see…that I have made a grave mistake. I failed to realize that the opinions of others would matter to you. I had always gotten the impression that you were too much of an independent to be bothered by such things. Too busy to care about the thoughts of an old man…"
He turned away, clenching his fists. "How could I not?" he whispered. "You were Albus Dumbledore. Everyone cared what you think. All the students, the staff, every member of the Order of the Phoenix…Fudge most certainly did, as well as the rest of the Ministry and the reporters, and…"
"I'm sorry, Severus."
"…even Scrimgeour took – what?"
"I am so very sorry for the pain I have caused. Forgive an old man his follies, won't you? I have hurt both you and Harry, far more than anyone else could have. I believed that what I was doing was for the best, but it turned out that I was mistaken. Terribly mistaken."
Severus couldn't speak for a moment.
"There is no one I valued more than you. As you said, the Order owes most of its progress to your work. Harry would certainly have died – several times over – had it not been for your wise decisions, your quick actions. No one could ever have replaced you."
It took him another moment to realize that his face was wet.
"I…I didn't mean to kill you, Albus, I swear it… It was never – never supposed to happen…"
"No, it's my fault," Albus said, shaking his head sadly. "My fault for not seeing what was so plain. My fault for placing so great a burden on your already overburdened heart…"
"No… I – I lost control. Everything from the past few weeks, with Draco and Narcissa…"
"But you came back, didn't you?" Albus said, smiling slightly. "You saw what was right, in the end, and you returned to help Harry, as I had asked." He sighed, glancing back toward Potter again. "You mustn't hate him, Severus, for being someone he didn't choose to be. Lily Evans never betrayed you, just as I never deserted you; it just happened that your paths diverged. It's been eighteen years – isn't it time you let go of that grudge?"
Severus closed his eyes. "But it hurt," he whispered. "It hurt so much."
"That's good," he heard Albus say gently. "As I have told Harry before, being able to feel pain makes you human. Although of course, Harry's immediate reaction was to tell me he would rather not be human," he added ruefully.
A smirk crossed Severus' face before he realized it. Typical Potter.
"You realize, Severus," Albus continued, "that you cannot go any further until you find it in your heart to accept Harry for who he is. You must not think of him as Lily and James' son, but as Harry. No more, and no less. Can you do that?"
Severus opened his eyes again and looked up at the old man. For the first time in over a decade, he let himself gaze fully into those blue eyes, searching for something he thought he had lost.
Love.
"I can," he said softly, bowing his head. "But first, I need your forgiveness. eFor not believing, for turning away…for forgetting what you taught me, for committing a reprehensible act…"
Albus shook his head as he reached out and placed a hand on Severus' shoulder. "You are forgiven," he said without hesitation. "You have never been blamed, but since you ask, I do it willingly. I only hope that one day you and Harry can do the same for me."
"There is nothing to forgive, Albus," Severus said. "It was my fault – "
Albus cut him off with a stern shake of his finger. "You must also learn to forgive yourself. There can be no blame for things beyond our control, and there should be no charge put against things we cannot change, cannot prevent. And now, you must go before it is too late."
Severus glanced back at Potter. The crowd of shining figures had parted so that he and the Dark Lord were facing each other again.
"Harry has lost his love and forgiveness, Severus. Help him find it."
––––––
The tension is tangible. His shoulders ache and his mouth is dry.
He knows he's not ready – not yet – but Voldemort certainly doesn't care about that. He's already stepped several paces closer, a snarl on his face and a determined fury in his blood-red eyes.
Who's missing? he thinks desperately. He wipes his palms on his robes. He can't remember, for the life of him. There aren't any more people coming from –
He blinks.
Someone else – a lone figure – is approaching from the far edge of the forest. Voldemort notices him, too, and half-turns to watch the man as he draws nearer.
He can feel his heart beating just a little bit faster. Who is it?
Voldemort doesn't seem to care. "It doesn't matter," he sneers. "One more ghost isn't going to save you."
He ignores Voldemort and continues to watch the man intently. He can't make out the face yet, but that gait is somewhat familiar – that bearing –
His eyes widen in shock.
The man walks the rest of the way to him with his head bowed. It's impossible, and yet there is no one else he knows with that greasy, dark hair and hooked nose.
The man stops several paces before him. They both look away.
"Potter," the man says.
"Snape."
Nothing more is said. Then, slowly, Snape puts his right hand forward. It hovers over his, shaking in hesitation.
They still avoid each other's gaze.
"Severus?"
He looks up, startled – to see his mother reaching out her hand toward Snape's. Snape also appears stunned as he looks into Lily's eyes.
"L-Lily?"
"It's been a long time."
Snape's hand is trembling now.
"…Yes. Eighteen years."
"I've missed you. I'm glad you came."
Snape's face is frozen for a moment, a mixture of guarded disbelief and shock. And then, to his astonishment, a smile – a genuine smile – flashes across Snape's face.
"I've missed you, too," Snape says, and places his hand on his.
Second floor, Hogwarts
"It's no use," Ron said bitterly. "We've lost them."
Hermione sighed as she tried to clear the smoke around them with her wand. "If only we could see properly," she muttered.
"Should we just head back, then?"
"I suppose. The stairs are back there, I think…"
Ron kept his wand at the ready as he led the way down the corridor. They had been with Blackthorn and Drake just moments before, but a brief skirmish involving a rather large amount of smoke – he honestly had no idea where it all came from – had separated them. The corridors were eerily empty now – on the second floor, at least – but Ron couldn't help thinking that someone would jump out at them the second he let his guard down.
They stuck close to the walls and tread quietly as they neared the corner. It wouldn't have been the first time they'd been surprised by a Death Eater lurking out of sight.
"The stairs are this way, right?" he asked, jerking his head to the left. He was pretty sure that there was a dead end if they kept going straight.
"Yes," Hermione answered, looking around warily.
Nodding, Ron took a deep breath and stepped –
"Ron!" Hermione cried suddenly, grabbing his sleeve and pointing straight ahead. "Ron, look!"
Braced for the worst, he spun around with a spell ready on his lips.
There was no one there.
"What – " He peered through the thinning smoke, following Hermione's finger. His eyes widened. "Bloody hell – is that – that's – "
"Malfoy!"
Ron gaped. There was someone there, near the end of the corridor, half-buried in a pile of rubble. A broken wand lay several feet away. "No way," he said, shaking his head. "That's not Malfoy."
But there was no mistaking that white-blonde hair. Ron couldn't see his face – he was lying on his stomach and facing the other way – but he had the sinking feeling that Hermione was right.
"He – he's trapped!" she said, sounding distressed. And without further ado, she dashed forward.
Ron cursed as he ran after her. For someone with more brains than half of Ravenclaw, she had a ridiculous streak of recklessness.
Hermione knelt beside Malfoy's head. As Ron came to a stop beside them, he noticed that Malfoy was lying in a pool of blood. He seemed to be unconscious.
"Malfoy!" Hermione said fearfully as she shook his shoulder. "Malfoy! Oh – Rennervate!"
Malfoy stirred. He blinked several times in the torchlight and groaned. Ron winced inwardly as he saw the long, thin gash that ran along the side of his head. His right shoulder had also been torn open, and blood still oozed from a nasty-looking wound in his side.
"Are you okay?" Hermione asked worriedly, peering at his head and then at his shoulder.
Malfoy squinted up at her. "Where – Granger?"
He grimaced suddenly and closed his eyes. His one free hand curled into a fist.
"Someone blasted the wall apart – it must have fallen on you," Hermione said, shaking her head as she rolled up her sleeves. "Ron, help me get him out – "
He sullenly obeyed her directions, painstakingly shifting the boulders off one by one. She was right – there was a big crater in the wall that indicated that someone had tried to kill someone and missed. But who would try to kill Malfoy? He was sure no one in the Order would – hurt him or capture him, maybe, but kill? And where were Crabbe and Goyle?
He looked down at his former classmate to find that he had closed his eyes.
Git, he thought fiercely. He resisted the urge to kick him. He still couldn't believe what he was doing – what Hermione was doing. What had Malfoy ever done to warrant this sort of kindness?
Ron wiped his forehead with his sleeve as the last bit of rubble was moved aside. Hermione sighed in relief, but as she moved forward to help Malfoy sit up, his eyes snapped open and he awkwardly jerked away from her touch.
Hermione withdrew her hand, looking hurt.
Ron had to turn away to prevent himself from throwing a half-dozen hexes at Malfoy. He coldly watched the white-faced boy struggle toward the wall. It took a good five minutes for him to get himself into a sitting position.
Hermione still had that worried look on her face. "I - I'll have to take your shirt off," she said – Ron grimaced as she reached out toward him – "so I can see if – "
"No!" he said, shrinking away again, and he sounded so anguished that Ron was momentarily taken aback. Hermione looked startled.
"Forget it," Ron snapped, stepping toward Hermione and putting a hand on her shoulder. "He doesn't deserve our help."
"Ron, we can't just leave him!" she protested.
"Why the bloody hell not?" Ron growled, starting to feel impatient. What was wrong with her?
"He'll bleed to death!" she said, gesturing at his blood-stained shirt and robes. Ron really couldn't bring himself to care.
"Good!" he retorted.
"Ron!"
"Hermione, look at him!" he said heatedly. "This is Draco Malfoy! You punched him in third year, remember? We don't like him!"
"That doesn't mean we can let him die! He's one of us, a victim of circumstances – "
"He is not one of us," Ron said coldly, crossing his arms. "Victim of bloody circumstances, my arse. He's a Death Eater. Do you think that if we were in his situation, he'd stop to help us?"
"So are you saying we should sink to his level?" she demanded. "If we leave him here, that would make us no better than he is!"
Malfoy hadn't said anything all this time. His eyes were closed again.
Ron glanced down at the floor – he really had lost a rather large amount of blood.
"You can go if you don't want to help," Hermione said, turning away from him and pulling out her wand.
"What, and leave you alone with him?" Ron snorted, elbowing his way past her. "You owe us, Malfoy," he scowled as he slung Malfoy's arm around his shoulders and hefted him to his feet. "You owe us big time."
Third floor, Hogwarts
"Where's Potter?" she snarled, glancing up and down the corridor. Bodies littered the floor – it only angered her more to see that there were far more Death Eaters among the fallen.
"We've searched everywhere," Dolohov said.
"Not everywhere," Farrell corrected. "The Hospital Wing."
She cursed herself – how could she have forgotten? "It's on this floor?"
Farrell nodded. "It should be on the opposite end of this corridor here," he said, pointing forward with his wand. "I suspect it's been warded and concealed."
"Why would he be there?" Dolohov asked, frowning. "And why would they ward a place like that?"
"Don't ask stupid questions," she snapped at him as she led the way down the corridor. She swept past the carnage without blinking an eye.
She hadn't expected this much resistance. It should have been over by now, but she could still hear the sounds of duels echoing throughout the castle. None of the floors had been secured, like she had planned. Rodolphus' forces had been routed – how, she didn't know, but she would deal with him later.
But first, she had to get rid of Potter.
Farrell muttered under his breath as he moved, scanning the area for wards. The tip of his wand glowed a faint blue. "Closer," he murmured, scrutinizing the walls. "Very strong wards on – "
"BELLATRIX!" someone bellowed, hurtling down the stairs up ahead and leaping into her path. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving and his tattered robes fluttering around him.
"Longbottom," she sneered. "Still alive, then? Trying to make your dear parents proud?"
His face contorted with fury.
"Neville!"
She glanced up to see three more people running toward her. There was a square-jawed wizard with straw-colored hair leading the way, his eyes blazing with hatred – he ran straight at Dolohov and blasted him backward with a bang.
She ignored them, letting Dolohov deal with the madman. The other two were more intriguing – her niece, Nymphadora Tonks, and the werewolf, Remus Lupin.
"Why hello, aunt," Nymphadora said dryly as she stepped up beside Longbottom. "Fancy seeing you here."
"She's mine!" Longbottom growled, trying to get in front of her.
Lupin barred his way with his arm. "Wait."
"I'll take them," Farrell said, flourishing his wand.
"I haven't seen you before," Nymphadora said, cocking her head at him as she pulled out her wand. "I suppose you're new. Have you found out what a bloody toerag my dear aunt is yet?"
Farrell bristled.
"I wouldn't talk, half-blood," Bella spat, drawing her own wand. "I should have done away with you before, like Sirius – "
Lupin clenched his fists.
Nymphadora shrugged. "Well, I'd like to rip your throat out, too," she said in a conversational tone, "but I'm afraid I already promised Remus he could have a go at you first."
Bella gritted her teeth and nodded at Farrell. He immediately lunged for Nymphadora, his wand flashing – but Nymphadora hadn't become an Auror for nothing. She countered Farrell's attack, and the two of them lurched down the corridor, spells crackling between them.
Bella looked down at Lupin and Longbottom, who were still barring her way.
"Move aside and I will spare your lives," she said quietly, bestowing them with her most imperious glare.
Neither of them batted an eyelid.
"Surrender now and I will spare your life," Longbottom spat.
Bella laughed. "You spare my life? Even your parents couldn't stand up to me, Longbottom. What would they say if they could see you now, you pathetic boy?"
"They would tell me to kill you," Longbottom whispered, his eyes narrowed. "They would tell me to get revenge!"
And he leapt forward, unleashing a curse at her. The force of the spell made her stagger, and she frowned. He was strong – stronger than before.
"Revenge for Sirius," Lupin said quietly, a controlled fire of rage burning behind his eyes as he also pointed his wand at her. "This is the end for you."
––––––
Wormtail couldn't stop trembling.
His hand shook uncontrollably as he pointed his wand at himself and whispered the words to the invisibility spell. Bellatrix was still around the corner, dueling with Remus and the Longbottom boy. None of them would notice…
He glanced down at himself to make sure the spell had worked. Taking a deep breath, he stepped around the corner and right into the middle of Bellatrix's duel.
He barely suppressed his squeal of fear as a jet of blue light smashed into the wall above his head. He immediately dropped into a crouch behind a suit of armor and peeked around it. Remus ran right past him, shouting to Longbottom and firing off a hex in Bellatrix's direction.
He could see the warded doors of the Hospital Wing from here. A-Almost there…
The wand in his hand seemed to shiver in his grip.
He closed his eyes and tried to muster up the courage to make the mad dash for the doors. It's almost over. If I can just get in there…
There was a shout; he opened his eyes to see that Tonks, the Metamorphmagus, had fallen. As Farrell bore down on her, Remus abandoned the duel with Bellatrix and ran to her aid.
"Impressive, Longbottom," he heard Bellatrix say. "You're good, for someone your age – but not good enough!"
He saw the jet of red light fly past him and hit Longbottom's foot. The boy fell heavily, and Bellatrix crowed in triumph. "Avada Kedavra!"
A second suit of armor – the only other one between Wormtail and the Hospital Wing – suddenly jumped out in front of Longbottom, deflecting the spell with its sword. A loud, hollow clang reverberated in the corridor.
Bellatrix snarled. "What – "
Wormtail saw him first – the black-robed figure that swept out through the Hospital Wing's double doors.
Snape.
Wormtail swallowed hard.
So that's where you've been, he thought, cringing. You came back. And they accepted you.
"Snape!" Bellatrix said, shocked.
"Bella," Snape replied smoothly, stopping beside the suit of armor he had bewitched. Longbottom stared up at him with a dumbfounded expression.
"You – you dirty traitor!" Bellatrix shrieked, brandishing her wand. "You betrayed the Dark Lord!"
Forgetting about Longbottom, she went right for Snape.
He saw his chance.
In the ensuing commotion, he scurried out from behind the suit of armor and raced for the Hospital Wing. His heart pounding, he slipped inside and quickly locked the doors behind him.
Safe.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
"Who are you?" someone demanded sharply.
He jumped and spun around. "St-Stupefy!" he stuttered, and the Stunning Charm slammed into the chest of a woman who had just stepped from her office – Madam Pomfrey.
He flinched as the woman fell to the ground. What am I doing? I can't – I can't do this…
He shook his head roughly. No. I have to. I have to. Glancing around, he instantly spotted Harry lying on a bed to his left. Ginny Weasley lay asleep on the next bed over.
Wormtail hesitantly made his way to Harry's side. It had been three years since he'd gotten a proper look at the Boy Who Lived.
He…looks just like you, James. Did I ever tell you that? Just like you.
He couldn't tell whether Harry was sleeping or not. His eyes were closed and he lay still, but his wand was gripped tightly in his hand and his expression was always changing.
Wormtail.
Wormtail whipped around, heart beating wildly. There was no one there.
Wormtail.
It was unmistakably the Dark Lord's voice.
My wand, Wormtail.
Wormtail looked down at the wand gripped in his sweaty palm. He remembered, all too clearly, the night the Dark Lord had requested to switch wands.
Look, Wormtail – this is my wand. I'm trusting you to take care of it.
How could he have refused something like that? Everyone knew the Dark Lord would require a different wand to defeat Harry Potter; Wormtail just hadn't expected it to be his.
Wait for me. I will call you.
And he was being called. The Dark Lord's wand seemed to have a mind of its own – it had, after all, led Wormtail here. To its brother.
Phoenix feather. Dumbledore's phoenix, to be exact. Interesting how that turned out, isn't it, Wormtail?
The wand shivered again.
Wormtail glanced down at it to find that its tip was glowing red. The same red glow that Harry's wand was emitting. And suddenly, the Dark Lord's wand began to pull his hands forward, reaching inexorably toward Harry…
––––––
This is the end, Voldemort.
He feels strength coursing through his veins. The fatigue and despair are gone, replaced by a newly energized sense of hope. The shining silver figures of his friends and family stand at his back, reassuring him as he faces his nemesis.
Voldemort looks livid, the red eyes gleaming.
He smiles grimly. It's over.
You do remember the Banishing Spell? Snape's voice says dryly.
Of course, he replies.
…Either must die at the hand of the other…
He raises his wand.
…For neither can live while the other survives…
Slowly and clearly, he begins reciting the Banishing Spell. He can see his mum nodding encouragingly out of the corner of his eye as a swirling dome of color begins to form around Voldemort.
But just as the last words leave his lips, he sees Voldemort smile. And in that split second, he knows something is wrong – terribly wrong – but he can't stop the spell now.
The dome is nearly complete. His surroundings become blurry, but he can still see Voldemort clearly.
A blinding flash of red light suddenly pulses beneath the dome, making him shut his eyes.
Voldemort's still smiling.
There is a second flash, so strong that the light pierces his eyelids.
What…?
Shaking his head roughly, he looks up.
Dread fills him all over again.
He's gone.
Up Next: Where in the world is Tom Riddle?
Dun dun dun... Four chapters left! Good time to start reviewing, right?
