Part XVIII

The wizards were forced back into the castle as the magical beasts fought outside. Almost all of the Warsaw Pact took the opportunity to defect to the Hogwarts side, firing spells at the Death Eaters as they retreated into the Great Hall.

More people streamed up the steps into the castle. Arthur could see Roderich Edelstein and Elizabeta Héderváry rushing in right behind Charlie Weasley and Yao Wang; Professor Slughorn came running in still wearing his emerald pyjamas. Feliks Łukasiewcz pranced in right behind Liam, Erin, Arawn, and Peter.

"Artie!" Peter yelled, waving at him as he shot a Jelly-Legs Jinx at a Death Eater.

"Hey, Peter!" Arthur called back, as three centaurs burst into the hall and the door that led to the kitchens was blasted away. House-elves streamed into the hall, screaming and waving knives.

"Fight!" one of them shouted, a locket sitting on his chest. "Fight! Fight! Fight for my Master, defender of house-elves! Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!"

Erised flew past Arthur into the Great Hall. Arthur tugged on Kiku's hand. They rushed into the Great Hall as well.

Pandemonium reigned in the hall. Voldemort was at its very centre, smiting and striking all within reach. Arthur drew his wand, but Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert beat him to the punch.

They started weaving in and out around Voldemort, blocking his spells yet unable to finish him with their own. Arthur watched, entranced and horrified as they danced around him. He tore his gaze away to see Ron and Neville take on Fenrir Greyback.

"No!" he cried as Fenrir tried to sink his teeth into Ron's arm. "Avada Kedavra!"

His spell hit the werewolf in the back; Greyback slumped to the ground. Ron looked back at Arthur, nodding a silent thanks before rushing off to fight another Death Eater.

In another section of the hall, Alfred was fighting Ivan. Arthur focused his attention on them, biting his lip so hard that he drew blood.

He was distracted for a moment when Francis dodged a Killing Curse shot mere centimetres away from him. Turning back, his face paled. Alfred was lying face down on the ground.

"Alfred!" Arthur yelled, shooting curses at every Death Eater in his way as he ran towards the American, tears welling up. He turned Alfred's body over and felt for a pulse. There was none. "Alfred, no!"

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!" someone screamed from not too far away, and Arthur turned to see Mrs. Weasley, running towards Bellatrix with her wand raised. Ginny, Hermione, and Luna ducked out of the way, as Bellatrix engaged Mrs. Weasley in combat.

Arthur knelt down at Alfred's side, watching the two fights. He wanted to act, but there was nothing he could do – he was helpless, once again.

And then Mrs. Weasley's curse hit Bellatrix directly in the chest. She toppled; Voldemort screamed.

His next curse hit Gilbert; the Prussian was blasted across the room, hit the opposite wall, and fell still. There was a cry and Arthur saw Elisabeta running towards Gilbert, her face white with terror and shock. Ludwig was right behind her. Arthur picked up Alfred's body, walking towards them. Kiku helped him set it down next to Gilbert's. Francis and Antonio raced over; Madeline took Francis's hand reassuringly.

"Protego!" someone roared. A Shield Charm rose between Voldemort and Mrs. Weasley; Arthur looked on with awe as Harry pulled off his Invisibility Cloak.

"HE'S ALIVE!" Arthur screamed, something echoed by everyone else in the hall for a few seconds before falling into stiff silence. Harry and Voldemort paced around the hall, circling each other like wolves.

"I don't want anyone else trying to help," Harry said loudly. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."

"Potter doesn't mean that," Voldemort hissed back. "That's not how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"

"Nobody," Harry replied calmly. "Because there are no more Horcruxes. It's just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and today one of us will leave for good."

"One of us?" Voldemort jeered, but Arthur could tell that his body was coiled like a snake's. "You think it will be you, the Boy Who Lived only because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"

"Accident, was it, when my mum died to save me?" Harry asked, and Arthur watched them as if they were predators ready to fight over prey. "Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn't defend myself tonight and still survived to return to fight?"

"Accidents!" screamed Voldemort, and Arthur's breath hitched. Everyone else seemed to be just as breathless. "Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and snivelled behind the skirts of greater men and women, permitting me to kill them for you!"

And on they went, while the rest of the hall watched. There was something deadly in the air around the two, a tension that seemed almost tangible. Arthur could hardly breathe for fear that he would shatter the moment.

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" Harry asked, his voice low but just as deadly as Voldemort's. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does, then I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

Right at that moment, the sun appeared. Dawn came, and with it came hope on red-gold wings. The light hit Harry and Voldemort, turning them into flaming blurs as they shouted their spells.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

The spells, red upon green, collided in a shower of golden flames. The Elder Wand flew across the ceiling, a little black line against the sunrise. It flew to Harry; Harry caught it as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed. He hit the ground, like so many other people before him, and suddenly Arthur felt as if some great weight had been lifted from his chest.

"YES!" he screamed, shattering the silence. Everyone started screaming and cheering; everyone ran towards Harry. Ron and Hermione reached him first, and then Arthur, Ginny, Luna, Neville were there, and then everyone else was pushing and pulling, desperate to touch their new symbol of hope.

As Arthur staggered back to the side of the hall where the dead Nations lay, he saw something else that lightened him up even more. Alfred was awake, cornflower-coloured eyes alight with happiness.

"What's going on?" he demanded, jumping to his feet. "Where's Nataliya? Where's Harry? Is You-Know-Who dead yet?"

"Yeah, he's dead!" Arthur cheered, engulfing the American in a hug. "Harry just defeated him!"

Alfred tensed suddenly, and Arthur turned to see Nataliya standing there, a smile on her face as brilliant as the rising sun.

"Nat!" Alfred yelled, sprinting towards her.

"Alfred!" she called back, running to meet him halfway down the hall. He engulfed her in a bear hug, spinning her around. "It's over!"

"I can't believe it either!" the American called back, his laughter ringing through the air. "It's finally over!"

Arthur turned to look at Kiku, who smiled at him and nodded. "Finally over," the Japanese echoed. Arthur smiled, wrapping an arm around him.

"Where's Ivan?" someone asked; it was Yekaterina Braginskaya. "Where's Brother?"

"He's left," Toris Lorinatis answered. "Left after the Dark Lord fell. He's gone back to Russia to bide his time."

Arthur really didn't care about that – neither did the rest of the Warsaw Pact, it seemed, because Yekaterina was hugging Matthew Williams and Toris and Feliks were reuniting as well, crying tears of laughter. Arthur smiled, but the smile faded as he saw Francis, Antonio, and Ludwig.

Detached from the celebrations, they were huddled around a body – the only Nation that had not revived.

"Gilbert?" Elisabeta asked, kneeling down next to the Prussian's body, one finger tracing a cheek. "Gilbert, wake up."

"Why won't he wake?" Antonio whispered. Francis shook his head.

"Prussia's not a country anymore," Roderich said solemnly from Arthur's other side. Ludwig nodded sadly.

"My brotherly love for him kept him alive," the German mumbled, his voice thick with tears. "It's not enough to bring him back…"

Arthur watched as Elisabeta burst into tears, sobbing into Gilbert's shirt. Roderich knelt down and laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Gilbert Beilschmidt of Prussia was dead for good.

Notes: As you read this, I am packing to go live in a bomb shelter because you will all hate me for killing off Prussia, yeah? I'm sorry, but it's sad, historical fact. At least he died fighting, something that the Prussians valued (since they were all about the military).