Thank you for your amazing reviews, dearies.
Also, we're ending this journey next week; I just thought I'd warn you ahead of time, cause even though I knew where this was going to end, it still took me by surprise when I finished writing... But let's not get ahead of ourselves, enjoy the new chapter:
Moments after his announcement, Tom swept into the room without so much as a glance in my direction.
"Narcissa, we're meeting in the Forbidden Forest. Get these people on their feet; I want everyone out of here."
She nodded hurriedly and walked over to wake a barely conscious man in the far corner.
"Except you," he continued. He still did not look at me but the clipped tone of his voice made it pretty clear he was talking to me. "I don't want you anywhere near my people."
He turned around to stride outside. I never knew what possessed me but I stepped straight in his way.
"No," I said.
"If you know what's good for you-"
"Then get it over with! Do it or don't. But I won't sit here, waiting for you to make up your mind on how to torture me! You're better than that."
"Oh, that's rich," he sneered. "Coming from you."
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "Listen, nothing I say could ever make this right again. But you're talking about your people – well, they're my people, too. I won't kill any of them if that's what you're worried about."
"But you'd kill me?" he hissed.
"You'd do the same to me. I guess we're even in that aspect."
I looked over to Narcissa who had stopped a few feet behind us to watch our fight with wide, horrified eyes. I stepped past Tom and grabbed the box full of medical supplies that she was clutching.
"I'll take that. Let's get going."
Tom had picked a clearing in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. As we arrived, Mulciber was just lighting a fire to enlighten the space. More and more Death Eaters poured into the clearing. The brothers Lestrange supported Fenrir Greyback, who sported a rather nasty swelling where the crystal ball had hit him on the head. Rowle arrived shortly after them, his lip bleeding profusely. Dolohov and Yaxley were almost unharmed and set out to look out for Potter at the edge of the forest.
A large group of Death Eaters dragged a screaming mess of a man onto the clearing. Without doubt, this compilation of a leathery coat and a lot of jet black hair was the biggest man I had ever seen; only when he raised his head did I recognize him. It was Hagrid, the half-giant that had been expelled on Tom's behalf. The guilt struck as heavily as it had all those years back when I had suggested that we blame him.
Somehow, they managed to bind him to the nearest tree, where he continued to struggle fiercely until he finally slumped down and stilled in defeat.
"Lucius!"
Narcissa dropped what she had carried and rushed to join her husband.
"No sign of Draco," he said, defeated. "I searched for him, but-"
"I told him to hide," I said, causing their heads to snap towards me. "When I was in the castle, I saw him. I told him to hide."
"What if he-?" Narcissa began, her voice shaking.
"He's a smart boy," I tried to reassure her. "I'm sure he's fine."
Silence suddenly fell upon the clearing and I turned to see that Tom had swept onto it, causing the Death Eaters to stop their conversations respectfully. But Tom did not say a single word, he did not utter praise for their fight or scold them for not finding the boy. He simply walked over to the fire and remained standing there, uncaring of the deafening silence around him.
Time was dragging on horribly. No one dare to say a word as long as Tom was not speaking and he was standing in front of the fire, long fingers wrapped around his precious wand, his eyes cast down as if he was praying.
When the silence became fully unbearable, Dolohov and Yaxley walked back into the clearing. They stiffened when they entered, probably noting the tension as well.
"No sign of him, milord," Dolohov said carefully as if he feared that Tom would strike him dead for the news.
Tom did not. He did not even move.
"Milord," Bellatrix whispered, but he held up a hand to silence her.
"I thought he would come," he mused. "I expected he would come. I was, it seems... mistaken."
"You weren't."
I closed my eyes tightly for a second. Stupid, reckless Gryffindors. What did he think he would accomplish by coming here to die? It would be over...
I turned very slowly while the Death Eaters erupted in gasps and the occasional laughter.
Harry Potter was standing there, calmly observing the scene before him.
"HARRY! NO!"
All eyes suddenly rushed to Hagrid, who had resumed his struggling.
"NO! NO! HARRY, WHAT'RE YEH-?"
"QUIET!" shouted Rowle, droplets of the blood still spilling from his lip wound flying at the giant man.
Tom was now circling the wand in his hand, but Potter had not even drawn his. He had come here to die, once and for all and he was not even putting up a resistance. I wondered what had happened; his resolve had been so strong mere hours ago – and now? Why had he given up?
But I never got to ask my questions. A sickening smile played around Tom's lips before he finally addressed the boy.
"Harry Potter," he whispered. "The boy who lived..."
The boy did not move an inch, chin tilted up to look right into his nemesis eyes as Tom lifted his wand and uttered the deadly words.
The curse hit the boy square in the chest and he fell and landed, with a dull thud, on the grassy ground behind him.
But he was not the only one that fell, for at the same time, Tom was knocked back as well. He groaned as he, too, hit the earth and I was by his side before I could even think about it.
Our eyes met and I whispered, "You all right?"
"Fine," he said.
Bellatrix pushed me aside to fall to her knees beside him. "Milord," she breathed. "Milord-"
"That will do," he said, getting to his feet again.
"Milord, let me-"
"I do not require assistance," he snapped, causing Bellatrix to practically jump back. "The boy... is he dead?"
I turned to look at the boy, whose body was completely still ever since the curse had hit him; and even though Tom had been knocked back, I could not believe that the boy would survive, again.
"You," Tom ordered, pointing to Narcissa. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."
Narcissa, pale as death, walked over to the boy and crouched down next to him. I watched as her hand trailed over his shirt to check if there was a heartbeat. Slowly, the woman rose up again. "He is dead," she announced.
A whole tumult broke loose. Death Eaters were whooping and cheering and some even shouted red and silver lights into the air in celebration.
"You see?" Tom screeched. "Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! Crucio!"
The body was jolted into the air, once, twice, the glasses falling to the ground; and I could not stand by and watch it.
As Tom raised his wand to curse the body yet again, I stepped in his way.
"Lorraine," Tom said. "Get out of my way."
"You want me out of your way? Do it," I said. "But as long as I live I will stand here between you and him. You won, the boy is dead. Now let it go."
"This is my last warning-"
"Then do it!" I yelled at him. "I don't see why you're hesitating! Do it! I won't step aside and let you disgrace a corpse."
We glared at each other and the familiarity of it was almost frightening. In all those years, we had fought so often – but very soon, I would lose once and for all.
"We go to the castle," Tom announced without taking his eyes of me. "And show them what has become of their hero."
The tension unloaded itself in a fresh break of laughter and Tom walked past me without another word. I took several deep, shuddering breaths in an attempt to calm myself. What did he think he was doing? Why was he not ending it?
"You carry him," Tom ordered Hagrid. "He will be nice and visible in your arms, will he not? Pick up your little friend, Hagrid. And the glasses – put on the glasses – he must be recognizable."
When I turned around, someone had put the glasses back on and Hagrid had lifted the lifeless body of the ground. The giant man was sobbing and that sight was so surreal that it made me shudder.
I did not even notice that we had moved, that I had walked; but suddenly, we were at the edge of the forest and I looked again at the burning towers of the castle.
"Harry Potter is dead," Tom announced, his voice echoing across the grounds. "He was killed when he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.
The battle is won. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live, and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."
His voice died down and he motioned for us to proceed towards the castle.
"I was right, you know?" I said impassively. "You really are a monster."
Tom's eyes flickered to me for a moment. "Maybe I am," he said coldly as if he wanted to add, 'so what?'. Really, it did not matter. Monster or not, he had won. No accusation that I could ever throw at him would change that.
A large group had already gathered in front of the castle, and they erupted in terrible screams when they saw the boy's lifeless body in Hagrid's arms.
"SILENCE!" Tom ordered and the silence sank upon them like a cage. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"
"He beat you!" a voice yelled and my eyes found the Weasley boy who glared defiantly.
The rest suddenly started screaming again. One figure suddenly broke free of the mass and charged towards Tom, who made the boy crumble effortlessly.
"And who is this?" he inquired, clearly amused. "Who was volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"
"It is Neville Longbottom, milord," Bellatrix informed with obvious glee. The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"
Oh, I remembered. I remembered very well what she had done to his parents. Now that I saw this boy on the ground before me, I felt I had never hated Bellatrix quite as much.
"Ah yes, I remember," Tom said, while the boy struggled to his feet. "But you're a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?"
"So what if I am?"
"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."
"I'll join you when hell freezes over," the boy spat viciously. "Dumbledore's Army!"
"Very well," Tom hissed over the answering cheer from the crowd. "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head be it."
He waved his wand and it took a few moments until something flew out of one of the shattered windows; Tom grabbed it and shook the ragged thing – the Sorting Hat.
"There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School. No more houses. The emblem, shield and colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone, won't they, Neville Longbottom?"
He pointed his wand at the boy, who grew rigid and then, Tom forced the hat right over his head. "Neville here will demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me."
And with a flick of his wand, he sat the hat on fire.