The title for chapter twenty-nine is from…My Fair Lady. Congrats to Easterly Winds, Yank2324, and Wickedgreenchild.
Three chapters to go! Hmm…might be four though. And some shameless...what do you call it...plugging? Take a look at my other story, See, I'm Smiling, which is an AU exploring what would have happened if Fiyero did not arrive in time to save Elphaba in the cornfield scene after Nessa's death.
Chapter 30: No More
The once serene Hogwarts grounds looked more like a hell on earth to Elphaba as she promptly followed Harry out of the castle. Not only had the battle destroyed the organized campus, but also fires had been set everywhere. The sky was turning an ugly black from the smoke, and bodies of the mistreated or forgotten were strewn about. The sounds of fighting and dying came from agonized screams and enraged yells in all directions. Voldemort didn't attempt to hide; he was in the midst of it all, admiring his handiwork like a disturbed piece of art.
The other Order members filed out after them in an organized fashion, as though it were a funeral procession. Once Harry gave the signal, the original plan of distract, divide and conquer would take place so that he and Elphaba could finally destroy the Dark Lord.
With a subtle nod of approval from Elphaba, Harry threw up his wand and shot red sparks into the suffocated air, then charged to meet Voldemort face on. The Death Eaters broke out of their rituals to once again clash with the Light fighters, leaving Elphaba, Harry, and the Dark Lord in the middle of the field.
"Two against one? I thought you believed in fairness, Potter." Voldemort chuckled slightly, his abnormal nostrils quivering. "Ah, well. There's only one way to remedy that. Avada Kedevra!" Expecting the forthright approach, Elphaba jumped out of the line of fire, only to dodge a thread of other deadly, torturous curses that were eerily accurate.
"You'll have to work a bit harder than that, Tommy," Elphaba taunted, refraining from cackling at the mad…thing in front of her. She then winced and clutched her side as a curse nicked by her hip, resulting in a wave of sickly numbing. Note to self, she thought, no more baiting the evil monster.
"What's the matter, Thropp?" Voldemort yelled in his coarse voice. "We had such grand times the last time we met. Don't you want to continue playing?" Elphaba clenched her fists and said nothing. "Well, I promise that after this foolishness is over with, Potter can watch us finish our little game." Voldemort was speaking as one would kindly propose an idea to a small child. "And, of course, to be fair, I'll even play with Potter. You need to be reminded of fairness."
Harry couldn't hold his words in any longer. "And what makes you so sure that you'll beat us?" he yelled over the roar of war.
"I have the advantages, Harry," Voldemort whispered, but every word was articulated and heard clearly. "If you surrender now, I won't torture your girlfriend here. I'll be merciful as any lord and finish her quickly, if you wish it. All I ask is for you to raise the lovely white flag. Don't you see? The bloodshed is unnecessary if I'm going to come out victorious anyway. Why must all your precious soldiers die?"
Harry, in an act of either courage or stupidity, took a giant step to stare down Voldemort, the determination in his eyes beating beady, unfeeling ones. "I'm not the little boy you fought in that graveyard ten years ago. Your threats are obsolete, Tom. And your weapons are useless against what I've in store."
Voldemort smiled gleefully, scrunching the grey flesh of his face. "We'll see, Potter, we'll see."
They were having a stare-off in a challenge of testosterone, so Elphaba rushed forward to pull Harry away lest he do something regretful or stifling to their plan. "What the hell, Fae?" Harry spat, trying to free himself from Elphaba's grasp. "Let go of me!"
"Running away, are we, Thropp?" Voldemort mocked loudly, laughing genuinely. "And we were just beginning! No matter. No matter how far you run, you've already been caught."
Elphaba roughly pulled Harry away, jerking both of them down to miss the flying curses. She contained his wand at his side, since Harry was so intent on dueling the Dark Lord. "Stop that," she snapped, annoyed at the man's stupidity. "It's as though you're looking for ways to ruin the plan. We have to be farther from Voldemort to cast the spell successfully. So stop struggling!"
Harry broke away gruffly and dusted himself off. Despite his angry exterior, he knew Elphaba was right. He had endured years of taunting from the murderer of his parents, and dueling, a feature Harry excelled at, would have been sweet retribution. "Right. Where do you suppose we go, then?" He sighed. "We're supposed stay where Voldemort is in sight, but there's hardly room to see out of this crowd."
"Over here." Elphaba pulled Harry his robes to the same clearing where Dumbledore had died, where the battle was less concentrated. She glances around for Snape, who was close to them, as the late Headmaster had instructed that morning. The Potions Master nodded, signaling that it was safe to begin.
"Now." Harry ordered, more rhetorically. He kept a steady gaze on Voldemort's hazy form, which was coming closer. "Elaka atum atay-"
Elphaba took a breath and joined in on her portion of the spell, their voices blending into one hum, escalating into a powerful chant. Before the spell could reach halfway, Voldemort seemed to realize something was amiss. He called nearby Death Eaters over to the sudden birth of foreign magic.
"Thropp and Potter are over there!" he roared, pointing toward the clearing like a maddened Commander. "Find them, hunt them and kill them! Destroy them! Obliterate them!" he screamed as the Death Eaters scrambled to obey him. Either it was the urgency of his voice or the sudden drain of their own energies that directed them to the importance of the command.
Elphaba looked up at Harry in panic, but the Boy-Who-Lived could only shrug helplessly in response, for they were already deep into the spell. A rush of Death Eaters reached the clearing, ignorant of the effects of an unfinished spell from the Grimmerie, the powers of which could bring about some kind of annihilation that even Voldemort couldn't control. Neither Order members could flee or fight, so they remained, chanting the spell like it was a prayer for mercy.
Snape, readied for combat, lept from hiding to defend the clearing and its occupants with vigor and ferocity. They were about two-fifths of the way now, and Elphaba stared at Harry, hoping to burn a message into his eyes, telling him to hurry.
Snape was far outnumbered by the Death Eaters, though he was familiar with their battle tactics. Elphaba felt a terrible do-or-die urge rise in her stomach. She was not ready to let another friend die at her expense. She was about to break off from the spell, damn the consequences, when the heaven-sent image of several more Order members jogged over to help. Hermione, Tonks, and Kinglsey broke away from the center battle, which shifted from the center of the field to the entrance of the clearing.
"Hurry up, you two!" Tonks yelled as she tripped over her own feet, still grim-faced, though her hair became pink, as though compensating for a blush.
The rising volume of the spell became diluted and Elphaba could not hear herself over the chaos merely a yard away, but the vibrations in her throat indicated that she was still going. Voldemort had stepped into the clearing, striking the green witch with fear, until she saw how exhausted he had became.
He looked older and weaker, his features exaggerated by the spell. There were purple bags beneath his eyes and lines appearing on his smooth, alien flesh. His face was contorted with rage as he raised his wand and pointed it at Elphaba. Their eyes connected and she read 'Renac Mortis' in his lips. Diving out of nowhere to assist Elphaba and her inability to duck was a phoenix, regal in its flight, even as it took the curse.
Elphaba knew that Fawkes could not die, and she nodded with thanks in the knowledge that he would be reborn soon. It was symbolic to the Wizarding world, which would soon alter optimistically once the battle was won. To whomever won.
It looked as though luck was on their side as Voldemort was screaming in pain. Tangible, darkened energy was being sucked out of him like a straw with no liquid to transport. The masses of Death Eaters were becoming increasingly easier to fend off, slowing down with their master, proving the loophole triumphant.
Elphaba's breathing became heavy through the panic and the weight of the spell, and she spat out the last word so loudly she almost swore she could hear it. Please, she pleaded to whatever gods were out there. Please let this work. Harry subconsciously grasped Elphaba's hand for support as they watched the scene unfold in front of them.
Voldemort staggered forward on untrustworthy legs, jumping violently as each stream of dark magic was extracted from his body. It formed in a growing mass behind him. Abandoning the safety net of magic, he lunged at an unsuspecting Elphaba, who was thrown onto the grass, her hand wrenched out of Harry's. Voldemort's long, cold fingers were wrapped around her throat like snakes, or rope, and she struggled as his thumbs pressed into the core of her larynx.
Elphaba gagged, flailing in attempts to fight back, her own fingers wrapped around his in attempt to pry him off. Harry was unable to assist her, the spell still incomplete for him. The green witch could feel her eyes bug and the sounds of battle around her begin to soften. Her brain was clawing for air, but her eyesight was dimming at Voldemort's surprising strength.
Suddenly, without warning or explanation, Voldemort let go of her. His grip didn't loosen gradually, but rather, he jumped back. Elphaba felt her head begin to spin and she couldn't get up, but she knew the worst was over. The spell was complete.
The scene was out of a nightmare: the cries of Death Eaters and Voldemort alike at different paces, until it became one moan in unison. Voldemort was collapsing, the energy leaving him not only devoid of power, but life. The Death Eaters, too, were wilting away, their shadows dancing against the ground like a macabre troupe. When Elphaba's eyes returned to clarity, she noticed that her own shadow was withering along with Harry's. It frightened her, but then she noted the shreds of light from the tidying sky breaking through the shrouding branches.
Like a display of fireworks, the dark energy on the field collided together above their heads, as though trying to band together. With one, inhuman, unearthly, despairing sound, the final rupture of life in Voldemort erupted from his body and joined the glowing energy.
With the final burst, the struggling energy dissipated, as did the Death Eaters, and finally, the reign of Tom Marvelo Riddle, over half a century of autocracy and desolating oppression, came to a miraculous, but quiet end.
Elphaba found her footing slowly. Ending the war seemed like a far off reverie in the face of six years devoted to bring it to reality. Whether the rest of the Wizarding world ever thought it would come to an end, if not in some other lifetime, she didn't know. In the first few seconds of freedom, no one said a world, as though time would reverse if the immaculacy of silence were broken.
Harry stood beside her in a similar shock. This war had spanned over the entirety of his life, and there was a growing, tired place inside of him that had been previously occupied by it. The threat of the prophecy was gone from over his head, and after twenty-five long years, before him laid the chance of a healthy, normal life. Whether he had the capacity to accept it was the only thing in question.
Elphaba realized, maybe too late, that danger was not defeated just yet. The looming mass of dark energy was quite literally staring them in the face and moving towards Harry like an asteroid. "Harry!" she screamed. "Watch out!"
It was rushing towards him too quickly, and Harry cast her a helpless glance, his hair swooping into his eyes. It was useless to run. It seemed that Voldemort had found a way to bring Harry down with him, just as he'd always promised.
"I'm sorry, Fae. Thanks for everything," Harry said meekly.
Elphaba shook her head. All of the lunch period missed and lectures endured were for this exact moment. She lunged forward onto Harry as Voldemort did to her, chanting furiously. It was the strongest shielding spell she could find in the Grimmerie, and the time she spent to perfect it would not be in vain.
"What the hell are you doing, Fae?" Harry yelled angrily, swatting at her, but she kept her grip. He attempted to throw her out of the line of energy, and she slipped, but only tightened her grip.
Elphaba's eyes were screwed shut by the time she finished, careful not to stumble over her words. White light came from her hands and formed a dragon-like thing around her and Harry, which became a spherical shield. She gritted her teeth and fell to her knees, chanting through her jaw to maintain the shield through the heavy onslaught of dark magic. It persistently knocked and pulled back, like knocking on a door, or plunging a knife into her gut.
Harry put a hand on Elphaba's shoulder and tried to keep her up while whipping out his own wand and cast another shielding spell. She gave him a grateful look at their spells intertwined and it lessened the burden of her concentration.
Everyone watched, not knowing how to react as Elphaba's shield absorbed the dark energy, swallowing it like a living being in gusts. The dark magic was breaking through the shield in minimal amounts, building and creating a clear path to where Harry was standing. Elphaba felt weaker but persisted, though the energy slammed into Harry like the front of a train going at full speed.
"Harry!" Elphaba screamed, leaping forward and catching his falling form. The familiar sting of failure, of struggling to commit a good deed and coming out flat, made Elphaba conscious of why she had vowed to never do so before. "Harry, wake up!"
She checked for his pulse with frantic fingers, which was strong and consistent. However, he was still in a deep sleep. The dark magic was no longer present, or at least, not longer visible. The Boy-Who-Lived-to-Defeat-Voldemort was officially in a coma, despite his victorious efforts, and there was no indication that he would wake.
Good News! He's Dead! By Sylvan Thatcher
Three tense days have passed since You-Know-You was defeated a second time at the hands of Harry Potter and Elphaba Thropp. Only one question remained: Is You-Know-Who really dead, or is he merely biding his time as exercised before? This journalist takes you behind the scenes to talk with the Ministry workers handling the case.
"Based on all of the evidence we have collected and the examination of You-Know-Who's body by St. Mungoes, we have sufficient reason to believe that the Dark Lord has indeed been killed with no chance of return," says Auror David Buckleroot. It is indeed a time of celebration, which could last for weeks in major cities, that the wicked reign of You-Know-Who has finally ceased.
However, this story is not over yet. Mr. Potter lies in a coma in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts. The school nurse, Madame Pomphrey, has declined to comment about his conditions, and this reporter is unable to admit whether the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Defeat-Voldemort will be okay. Only time will be able to tell us if Mr. Potter will survive the enormous strain on his magic levels.
Elphaba Thropp, the Dueling Professor at Hogwarts, was also unavailable for comment about her role in the defeat of Voldemort. The only known information is that Miss Thropp used a spell from an ancient spell book-
See defeat on page 2 for the entire story
Elphaba sighed and set the newspaper on the table beside her. Other than the Hospital Wing, the entirety of Hogwarts was swarming with reporters and Aurors to keep them at bay. Madame Pomphrey went so far as to threaten anyone uninvited from entering the serenity of the Hospital Wing, where Harry currently slumbered, so the green witch figured it was the smartest place to camp out until the seemingly endless swarm of journalists, reporters, and celebrating Order members dissipated.
Madame Pomphrey said that the dark energy that hit Harry had drained him of his magic levels, which were bound tightly to a wizard's life force, and was echoing inside of him until it weakened into nothing. Harry was merely in a coma though; the shield Elphaba had cast saved his life, no matter how unresponsive he was at the current time.
The fireplace in Pomphrey's office exploded and roared fiercely, causing Elphaba's head to snap up to see Hermione, Snape, Fiyero, and McGonagall. "Fae," the old professor greeted, "there are important matters to discuss."
The green witch offered chairs to the other Order members, in tradition of a meeting, before taking a seat herself. "What about?" she asked tentatively.
"Several matters, such as whether or not you plan to renew your teaching license for the next semester." McGonagall's hat was similar to Elphaba's old pointed cap, and it flapped with age as she took a seat.
"My teaching- are you the new Headmistress now?" Elphaba stuttered as a jolt shot through her chest, an uncomfortable memory of Dumbledore's death replaying in her mind again. She would be dammed to forget it, but it was a plaguing thought to dwell on.
"Yes," McGonagall replied glumly, although it was simple mourning. "Albus and I came to an agreement on who would take over his position at Hogwarts if one were to find him… unable to accept his duties as Headmaster. And now that he has-"
"Enough, enough," Elphaba barked, maybe somewhat harshly. She gave the new headmistress an apologetic shrug, which McGonagall waved off politely. "I'll be teaching again next year, if you wish. It's not as though I'll have much else to do."
"And what about Glinda? Will she be working here in the Hospital Wing again?" Hermione asked, turning to McGonagall in reminder. "Because you'll need to draw up a contract for her as well if she is."
"No, I don't think so," Elphaba replied, quieted in remembrance that the blonde would return to Oz before long. Such news diluted any good tidings the green witch had towards Voldemort's demise: if Glinda was gone, it was like her heart was back in the Riddle House. "She's going back to Oz. There are duties she's neglected to attend to for an entire year, and she can't put it off."
"What do you mean, exactly, about duties?" Hermione asked. "Is she a Healer there as well?"
Her rushed promise to Dumbledore came back to Elphaba, and she reasoned that Snape and Hermione deserved some kind of truth. She cast Fiyero a helpless glance, and he returned it with unease.
"Well, Hermione, you see…it's like this." Fiyero was pausing and fumbling over his words, trying to concoct an acceptable explanation without being kicked by Elphaba or spinning a tale. He jammed his fists into his pockets and swallowed his wit. "Glinda's a, um, well, a highly respected political figure in Oz, and circumstance probably had her depart without much elucidation to the citizens. So there are probably loose ends and political…things that she needs to take care of."
Snape didn't take a seat, but rather, pilfered through Madame Pamphlet's cabinets in curiosity, his tone matching his activities. "Why don't you go back as well, Fae? You ought to have a family of sorts back in your homeland…not to mention homesickness. It happens to the living, on occasion."
"Do you mind, Snape?" McGonagall snapped, annoyed. "There is business before small talk to discuss, and I would rather get it over with rather than put it off until all the students rush back to school and suffocate us all. If you will excuse me, please, Fae."
"It's fine," Elphaba shrugged. If there was anything Elphaba could afford to do in the face of explaining why she and Fiyero had left Oz, it was that she could afford to wait.
"Now that You-Know-Who has been defeated," McGonagall began, "Fiyero, what are you going to do? You don't need to go out to collect information anymore-"
"On the contrary, Tiggular will have to reconnoiter again," Snape interrupted. "There still are Voldemort radicals and Death Eaters in hiding to wheedle out and tend to. Ones that weren't tied to the Dark Lord's life force, like Weasley," He spat the name out like a curse word, "that might be stirring up trouble."
McGonagall nodded. "Good point, Severus," she acknowledge briskly, before turning to the boot-clad man. "I'll give you a day or so of a break before you head out, if you wouldn't mind? No doubt some time of trouble is congregating under all this… hubbub and celebration."
Fiyero nodded slowly. "Actually, I'd like to stay until I know for sure that Elphaba will be fine."
Elphaba whirled to glare at him. "Wait until I'll be fine?" she repeated. "I'm not the one in a coma."
"You're still tensed up from the war; I've never seen anyone so distraught over success before. With the body count and Harry's condition, you'll be toiling for no reason. I'm going to wait until I'm certain you're alright," he said simply.
Elphaba opened her mouth to protest or to shoot him an insult on instinct, but stopped herself. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you," she finally said genuinely. "That means a lot to me."
"Perhaps it would be best to recollect later for a more formal meeting." McGonagall threw up her arms, annoyed at the attention span of the conference. "In my office, two hours from now should do. We all agree?" She received four nods. All were relieved to escape her for now.
"We should probably call the entire staff to a meeting, come to think of it," Hermione suggested.
"I would, Miss Granger, but the head count from the Aurors is still incomplete and I would rather not face the inevitable…disappointment of the results. I'm hoping our teachers have managed to dodge serious incapacitation or death," McGonagall admitted. "I will be given the information soon, but for now, we can only have faith. Two hours then?" The new headmistress trotted to the fireplace and Flooed to her own office, to avoid the bustling corridors.
Once she was certain they were alone, Elphaba turned to the others in the room. "There's something I need to tell you," she began gingerly, "about my past, and why I came here. You deserve to know-"
"Elphaba!" Fiyero hissed. "What are you-"
"Hush, would you?" Elphaba scowled. "This is hard enough as it is, without you breathing down my neck. Snape, Hermione, we've never told you before, but Fiyero and I had certifiable reason to come to England. It wasn't a vacation, or a random trip."
"We were eloping," Fiyero announced suddenly. Elphaba elbowed him raucously.
"No, we were not," Elphaba extenuated, glaring at the fellow Ozian.
"That much is believable," Snape drawled, but it was obvious he wanted to know the truth. "So, what were you going to say?"
"Back in Oz, I was-" Elphaba began, but was interrupted by the Hospital Wing door slamming open and the sounds of cameras and yelling reporters audible for as long as the door remained open.
An Auror stood in the doorframe gasping for air. His message made Elphaba's blood turn cold, the entire conversation forgotten. He announced it in between gulps of air, having been rushing through crowds to get to them. "Weasley is gone!"
Coming up: Something very important goes missing.
-Wolfie