'Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.'
~Winston Churchill
They attacked at first light.
Keyed into the wards, members of the Order apparated unseen into the Manor grounds, a thick patch of forest was to the West, and that's where the second wave were already stationed. The first infiltrated silently, their footsteps muffled with cushioning charms, and those Death Eater's roaming the grounds were felled with ease.
They never even saw them coming.
The Manor itself was vast. Mist clung to it like cobwebs, and caressed the aged walls as if they were an old friend. Before Harry had seen it as comforting, and only now did he see the darkness, lurking in every brick of the place he had once called home, and sadness welled within his heart as he looked at the complex with fresh eyes.
He was alone. Voldemort never knew of his defection yet, and using this he could go in and distract him whilst the Order infiltrated the building. Making his way up to the main entrance, the gravel crunched noisily under his dragonhyde boots, and a wind whipped up, his cloak fluttering behind him ominously. Drawing his magic around him, he felt the prickle of power tickle his skin, and approached the main door.
The guards on duty weren't the brightest sort. Linden, the thin, brown haired one held what limited brains they had, whilst Crowe was the one with the muscle. Getting past them would be easy.
"My Lord, we were not expecting your presence this weekend," said Liden, saluting quickly.
"It is not for you to know my schedule, Liden," sneered Harry, "Crucio!" Unlike the countless other times he had cast this curse, he felt no satisfaction watching the wizard crumble before him. Crowe knew better than to interfere, and when Harry lifted it, he felt slightly tainted, but definitely better than Liden looked.
"I, I apologise, my Lord!" gasped Liden, raising himself back up on shaky legs.
"Where is my father?" asked Harry, ignoring the apologies of the Death Eater.
"He is in his study, my Lord," said Crowe, choosing to answer instead of his colleague.
Moving past them, Harry marched into the entrance hall, his footsteps moving almost silently across the marble floor. His father was all about grandeur. Before when Harry had looked up at the vaulted ceiling he had felt a sense of awe. The chandelier hanging in the centre seemed to drip with molten light, and as a child he had always longed to touch it, to see if it was as warm as it looked. However, now he felt a sense of detachment, his eyes looking coldly over the features he had once seen as badges of honour. Here was a far cry away from the dungeons below their feet, and if he listened closely Harry could almost hear the dejected cries of those who hadn't seen the sun in too long. Shuddering, he moved quickly up the grand staircase, the want to get this over and done with becoming stronger with each step.
On the third floor landing, he darted down a corridor guarded on either side of the entrance by statues of two mermen. Their tails were curled up to their waists, and in their left hands they clutched tridents. Beautiful they looked, the scales spattering their flesh glittering like a thousand stars on a cold winter's eve. Although now, in the light of the flickering candles they looked almost menacing, but Harry paid them no heed, instead going past them, his eyes fixed on a door further down the corridor.
Hand met wood, and with it the chance to go back was obliterated.
"Harry, come in," Voldemort's soft voice breached the door, and Harry entered, closing the door quietly behind him.
"I was not expecting you this weekend," Voldemort looked up from his desk, the mahogany surface littered with scrolls and pieces of parchment. Bookcases covered the walls, and the only light came from two candles, both standing precariously close to his tower of paper. His father had always liked to work in semi-darkness, closing the world out, and letting himself think. To Harry, however, this room felt like a prison of failed plots and ideas, all preserved in the tomes that acted as wallpaper. A fortress of false hopes and bad memories if you like.
"I apologise for not giving further notice. I merely came to report some unusual findings," lied Harry, remembering the story he and Dumbledore had concocted.
"Ah, and what would these... unusual findings be, Harry?" asked Voldemort, moving his hand in a lazy manner, summoning a chair from under a nearby table, and placing it on the other side of his desk, "Take a seat."
"Thank you," said Harry, "Over the past month I have noticed Dumbledore leaving the castle more often than usual, his absence had been over three days, when yesterday at breakfast he returned, only this time he had brought something back with him."
"And what was this?" hissed Voldemort, his eyes flashing slightly as his mind went over the possibilities. Harry knew he had immediately jumped to the horcruxes, and tried not to smile.
"A ring, to be more specific, Salazar Slytherin's ring," Harry heard the sharp intake of breath at his confirmation, and the urge to smile got steadily stronger.
"Only Lucius knew of my horcruxes," Harry remembered the glee the head of the Malfoy's had at hiding the diary in the school, and he knew with dread where this was going, "Harry, have you seen young Draco recently?"
"No, father, I have not," the words tasted like ash in his mouth.
"Show me your mark," hissed his father, and revealing his arm, Voldemort pressed a pale finger to it, bringing the image of the snake onto his skin. "Draco, come here at once."
After a few minutes, a very dishevelled Draco apparated into the study. His blond hair was mussed, and his travelling cloak covered his emerald green pyjamas. It was more than evident that the young Malfoy had just gotten out of bed.
"You wanted to see me, my Lord?" asked Draco, despite his sleepiness, his upper class manners forcing him to stand up straight.
"Yes, it has come to my attention that-" the door opened, a Death Eater - Harris, Harry thought his name was - hurried in, his face clearly betraying the fact that he never wanted to be there.
"What is the meaning of this?" asked Voldemort, his face a mask of rage at this interruption.
"I, I'm sorry my Lord, but it... it's the Order, they're here," stammered Harris.
"Incompetent fools!" screeched Voldemort, "Harry, summon the vampires!"
Watching his father move swiftly from the room, barking orders at the unfortunate Death Eater who had the duty of delivering this bad news, Harry was slightly amused to see Draco hadn't moved. Instead, he was looking sleepily at Harry, his silver eyes raking his face in a manner that filled Harry with unease.
"You knew," the words bridged the silence, and the room turned frosty as the full implications of this were realised.
"Draco, Voldemort is going to fail, the vampires will be weakened by the daylight, and the rest of our troops are but a days fly from here," said Harry, desperately wanting his childhood friend to realise the truth in his words, and not sacrifice his life for a fruitless cause. As green eyes met silver, both knew that the possibility of only one of them leaving that room was hovering over them.
"My father..." started Draco, doubt colouring his words.
"Draco, your father is brainwashed. I know what it has been like growing up in his shadow, and with Voldemort's eyes on your family at all times you have barely had the freedom to breathe!" whispered Harry quickly, "At least back out of this battle, I don't want to have to fight you."
"We need not fight, but I need your word that this is for the best," said Draco, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly.
"I swear upon the House's of Potter, and Riddle that this is the correct course of action to take," Harry held out his hand, and the young Malfoy clasped it tightly.
"Your judgement has never been wrong before, but if you are wrong, then I will kill you," Harry heard the real threat contained within the words, but he also knew that meant Draco wouldn't fight until he got all the facts, and the relief that filled his chest was enough to knock down a hippogriff.
"That is if Voldemort doesn't kill me first," said Harry, embracing his friend, and allowing a little humour to breach the conversation.
"Try to stay alive, I would be ever so disappointed if I couldn't kill you," chuckled Draco, apparating away with a small crack.
With the departure of his friend, Harry felt the weight if the situation land firmly on his shoulders again, and moving out of the study, he could already hear the shrieks, and cries from the battlefield. Following the sound, he came to the entrance hall, pausing for a moment to survey the scene.
Large chunks had been ripped out of the floor, the gapping holes left behind, looking menacing, as if they would swallow up all who treaded near their jagged edges. Wand fire rebounded off walls, and Harry saw a statue of Salazar Slytherin disintegrate as it became the unlucky receiver of one such curse. The light from the spells seemed to surround everyone in an ethereal glow, and all around screams, and cries seemed to envelop them all.
It was a nightmare.
Not sure what side was what, Harry ducked and weaved down the stairs, trying to ignore the stickiness of the floor, and the fact that sometimes the ground wasn't as hard as it was meant to be. All the while, the only thought in his head was 'remember your training' and he grasped onto it, moving stealthily across the battlefield, a smaller, but more persistent part of his mind also screaming 'find Ginny and run!' becoming more repressed by the minute.
And there she was, fire red hair glinting just the way he remembered from the first time they met. Her face was fierce, the avenging angel was back, and one by one she felled her opponents. A strong part of him wanted to go to her, to protect her from those who wished to do her harm, but he realised that this was her fight also. She had lost many at the hands of his father and the Death Eaters, and it was only right for her to get her own back, to avenge her fallen loved ones.
Some faces he recognised: Lupin, the werewolf whom his father had wanted to recruit was grappling with Fenrir Greyback, Molly Weasley, her face so similar to her daughter's, carving her way through the battlefield, trying to protect her family, Ron and Hermione, back to back, spells being cast so quickly, it was as if their wands were working without them, and then Dumbledore. The Headmaster was surrounded, all sides closing in, and yet he still fought, still felled many, his blue eyes alight with the cold fury that sent a chill to his heart.
A loud, animalistic cry snapped his attention away from the sea of faces. His father was also surrounded, the two greatest wizards almost like magnets for the opposing forces. In one move, McGonagall, Snape, and Tonks were flung back, their bodies hitting the foremost wall. Taking his chance, Harry darted in, seeing his father's eyes widen as he registered his presence.
"Harry, fight them!" ordered Voldemort, the red orbs of his eyes flashing with barely suppressed rage.
"As you wish, father," said Harry, throwing a curse at Mulciber, and watching as he crumpled to the ground.
A jet of green light just missed his ear moments after this.
"I raised you, and you have turned on me," snarled Voldemort, and Harry blocked another curse, side-stepping moments before it hit.
"You raised me wrong!" retorted Harry, his eyes flashing to Ginny, still absorbed in the fight to register what was happening.
Voldemort followed his gaze, for he sneered, "You discovered love? You would abandon power for that?"
"I have abandoned it," said Harry simply, raising a shield to the barrage of spells this unleashed, and steadily feeling the cloak of his new allegiance wrap around him.
"So be it," spat Voldemort, hatred colouring his words and features.
They fought. Voldemort's strikes were like a snakes, swift and deadly, but he had trained Harry, Harry had moulded himself to his style, and as they wrecked the surrounding area, not a single spell met it's true mark.
His father growled in frustration, and Harry smiled, throwing a reducto, and the armour behind Voldemort exploded, sending the older wizard forward, onto the hard, unforgiving ground. Standing up, he surveyed Harry with a look that was almost pride. Almost.
"You have done well, but this is where it ends," he said calmly.
"I agree, although I wish to offer you one thing," replied Harry, his wand still raised.
"And that is?" asked Voldemort, his eyes shining with mild curiosity.
"Atone for your crimes, see the error of your ways. Despite this, I do not want to kill you," said Harry.
"Then I shall kill you! Avada kedavra!" cried Voldemort. Just before the curse landed, Harry muttered one of his own, feeling wrong at using such a curse, and ducking, Voldemort's spell missed, only for Harry's to land.
The avada kedavra, left a faint green glow around Voldemort's body, before the man fell to the ground, his eyes still showing the last trace of his anger.
"Voldemort is dead, you can either keep fighting, and die, or join us, and be tried according to your crimes, and not those of your master," Harry's voice echoed around the battlefield, and silence descended. A few Death Eaters who were still standing dropped their wands, raising their hands up in surrender. Those who chose to fight were dealt with quickly, the news of their Lord's demise keeping them in shock long enough to be subdued.
As soon as the silence had started, it ended, a rush of cheering shocking Harry's system. People crowded around him, wanting to shake his hand, or congratulating him, and fighting through the crowd, his eyes scanned his surroundings, searching for the one thing that would tell him it was over.
Emerald green eyes met cinnamon, and he saw they were filled with peace. Yes, there were casualties. Yes, the fallout would be hard. However, as long as those eyes were filled with peace, he could be too.
A/N: I feel like I'm apologising a lot with this story! However, once again I am sorry for the wait. I'm in the middle of exam season, and for weeks have had half of this written, only to lose inspiration due to pressing deadlines! I'm going to deal with Malfoy in the next (and last!) chapter, as I know his decision may seem strange, it will be explained in more depth :) My exams finish next week, and so then I'm on holiday, therefore it will be up next week - I've spent too much time stressing over this story, and you have spent too long waiting! I hope this was satisfactory, and I would appreciate it if you reviewed... actually, I beg you, I know my replies have pretty much gone out of the window, but I enjoy reading every review, and if you haven't received a 'thank you' from me, then I am truly sorry, I will have more time to reply next week :)
IF YOU REVIEWED THE AUTHOR'S NOTE, AND STILL WANT TO REVIEW, JUST DO IT ANONOMOUSLY, I'LL STILL BE ABLE TO REPLY :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, if I did, then Dobby would still be alive! :(
I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes contained within this chapter.