Harry Potter and the Power of the Past
Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.
Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?
A/N: Thanks for the reviews everybody. Oh, and review again!
S/N: In case anyone was wondering, Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun is coming along nicely.
S/N 2: And with this chapter, the subplots are mostly all wrapped up, barring one which will be finished in the final chapter. The story was always leading up to this chapter, since just about day one. I had originally intended for this to be the last chapter, but I had an idea for one more chapter so I ran with it. So this will be the second to last chapter, plus a short epilogue. The final chapter will explain a lot, I think.
Chapter 40: Three, Four, Better Run for the Door
The Dark Lord Voldemort stared at Harry Potter's unmoving body with a large, vicious smirk on his chalk-colored face, a feeling of relief engulfing him for finally conquering his foe. He basked in his glory for a short while until, from his left, a Killing Curse flew at him, which forced him to quickly spin on his heels and dodge it. "You're going to pay for that," Kingsley Shacklebolt screamed in righteous anger, brandishing his wand as he and Minerva McGonagall ran towards the Dark Lord, intent on avenging their fallen leader.
"You think you can beat Lord Voldemort?" Voldemort spat, grinning wildly and madly, knowing that without Potter there to help them, the Order of the Phoenix didn't stand a chance against him. "Good to see you again, Minerva, it's been such a long time."
"Hmph," Minerva grunted, blocking the curse that Voldemort had sent at her with a flick of her wand. She remembered back to the time when she had attended Hogwarts with the handsome and brilliant Tom Riddle: she was a year older than he was and was a second year when he had entered Hogwarts, but by the time she was in her seventh year, he was much more powerful than she was. Admittedly, she was quite fond of Tom during their years at Hogwarts together, having been hoodwinked into thinking he was a different person just like the rest of the school was, barring Albus Dumbledore, who was never tricked.
"What's the matter," Voldemort mocked, staring straight at the older witch with his crimson red eyes. He tossed a curse towards the pair, and cackled when they were thrown to the ground in the resulting explosion. "You don't like reunions as much as I do? I just love them; after all, I'm sure the people I kill are happy to be reunited with their dead loved ones."
"Enough!" A loud voice boomed, unmistakably Harry's voice. "This is my fight."
The battle behind and around the center of the lawn seemed to abruptly stop, all eyes having turned to Harry and Voldemort—Voldemort himself was looking at Harry with wonder and fear. Harry's body twitched for a second, and then it did the impossible: as if he wasn't just hit with the Killing Curse, as if he was a man un-killable, as if he was an immortal who walked the Earth, Harry rolled over onto his back and wiped the blood that was pouring out of his scar away with his sleeve. He looked up at his sleeve and sighed when he saw the amount of blood that was there, surprised that his scar was bleeding so profusely.
"Impossible." Voldemort muttered in what seemed to be fear, taking a half of step backwards, away from Harry. He raised his wand, staring at Harry with his cold, scarlet eyes, and his outstretched arm shook a little, almost unnoticeably. He watched in horrorstricken fascination as Harry got back to his feet, and then immediately reached into his robes and pulled out a long black wand. Without wasting any time, Harry chanted a curse, waved his wand, and sent a blast of dark magic straight at the Dark Lord.
Flabbergasted by what was happening, Voldemort only managed a feeble defense, and was scorched on his left arm as a result, though he didn't seem to notice. As he stared at Harry with his mouth agape, a silver Patronus in the shape of a bird appeared out of nowhere and flew high above the battlefield, before landing a few feet away from Harry. It opened its beak wide and said in Kylie's voice, "The snake is dead."
Harry looked over to Voldemort, who was staring back at Harry with wide eyes, clearly unnerved by what was transpiring. "It's just you and me now, Tom, everyone else and everything else is in the past." Harry whispered with a tone to his voice that Voldemort had never heard from him before—it was a mix of Dumbledore's wisdom and Harry's anger. At the same time, it was both, yet neither, which befuddled Voldemort a bit.
"What…the past?" Voldemort muttered, confusedly, as he whipped his wand through the air and released a curse. Harry dodged it, and returned the attack, sending back a yellow curse even faster and more powerful than he could have done with his old wand. It sailed over the Dark Lord's head, but the force was so great that it required Voldemort to firmly stand his ground or else face being knocked to the ground like the wind would do to somebody during a hurricane.
"The past has a lot of power, Tom." Harry said, taking a step closer to the Dark Lord. He knew that he was getting under Voldemort's skin like he had planned, he just needed to pry a little deeper to completely unhinge the Dark Lord. "It sheds light on things that can make or break our lives. Like a reporter digging into the past to find the skeletons in a respected wizard's closet, a person can crumble because of the things that happened in the past. It's what made you fearful of Albus Dumbledore, because he met you when you were just a mean little boy in that muggle orphanage; he knew who you were, he knew your heritage, something that you tried to keep hidden from the rest of the wizarding world. In your own past, you gave me the power to match your own, a fact that is now haunting you. You marked me as your equal, just as the prophecy said you would: a prophecy that is now coming to fruition. Never overlook the past, Tom."
"Do not call me by that filthy muggle's name!" Voldemort screeched, making Harry smile at succeeding in his plan to anger Voldemort so much that he wouldn't be able to concentrate for the duel.
And with that, Harry used the Elder Wand to his advantage, sending curse after curse at the Dark Lord. He flourished the wand with renewed vigor, whipping it around as orange energy formed at its tip. Then, with a jerk of his hand, the energy left, and zoomed at the Dark Lord with tremendous speed. "It's over, Tom!" Harry screamed out, his eyes locked in a steely green gaze that showed more focus and reserve than they had ever showed before.
The spell that Harry used was the Bombardment Jinx, which was also known as the Cannonball Curse, and was an ancient spell that was precursor to and basis of many other spells, the main one being the Statum Throwback Charm. It was impossibly old and all but forgotten, with most wizarding folk of the world having evolved their magic with the newer spells that had been created over the last few hundred years. The jinx sent out a sphere of energy, akin to a muggle cannonball, that physically crashed into an opponent or their defenses, destroying or knocking back anything that was in its way. Unlike the Blasting Curse or other like charms, the Bombardment Jinx didn't blow up the intended target, only bludgeoned it: though, if the object had weak enough defenses to be destroyed, it would seem as if it was blown up.
Voldemort's eyes went wide as the orange curse rushed towards him, too close to counter. It hit him square in the chest, sailing him fifteen feet into the air, where he landed on the slick, icy and muddy ground with a crunch, breathing heavily. Then, a few seconds later, another orange ball hit him in the chest, pushing him further into the ground, creating an indenture of his body and making him scream out in pain. Pain. For the first time in a long time, he felt it: Lord Voldemort was hurt.
He was very hurt. "Something is wrong," Voldemort whispered to himself, though he didn't know what it was. His magic somehow felt different than what he was used to feeling for the past twenty years, but he couldn't exactly place what was different about it.
"There are no more Horcruxes to save you." Harry spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, though Voldemort heard him clearly. "It's just you and me now, and neither can live while the other survives. One of us is about to leave this world forever."
"This…this is not possible." Lord Voldemort gasped out, reaching down to his ribs. "My body should be made of dead bone, like an Inferius', it should feel no pain." His mind drifted back to the night that he performed the ritual that restored his body, trying to figure out what went wrong, what had happened that ruined his well crafted plan.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly taken. Flesh of the servant, willingly given. Blood of the foe, forcefully stolen." Voldemort hissed, before allowing Barty to dunk him into the fiery liquid. Voldemort vanished below the surface, his frail body hitting the bottom of the cauldron with a soft thud.
"Drown you disgusting ferret." Moody growled from his place against the headstone. Barty sent him a look, as to quiet the aged wizard, but otherwise ignored the comment. Apprehensively, half of Moody's attention was on the ritual with his real eye, while his other swirled in it's socket, looking for a way out, a way to alert Albus Dumbledore that Voldemort was about to return.
Crouch was speaking; his voice was strong and confident, with an air of excitement in it. He raised his wand into the air and spoke to the night. "Bone of the father, unknowingly taken, you will renew your son!" The surface of the grave at Moody's feet cracked, opening a thin crevice in the hard ground. Curious, Moody watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Crouch's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the liquid sparked and gurgled, turning a poisonous-looking blue color.
Barty gave a sadistic smirk as he pulled out a long, thin, shinning silver dagger from inside his black cloak. "Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master!" He stretched his left hand out in front of him, gripped the dagger tightly with his right, and swung it upwards. Barty bit down on his lip as a wave of pain overtook him, blocking his mind from thinking about anything but his severed hand that fell to the ground, limp. Crouch panted a little, picking up his hand and dropping it into the blue liquid with a sickening splash. The potion turned into a burning red as soon as the flesh entered the morbid stew.
Moody watched as Crouch wrapped a piece of cloth around his stub, grabbed the dagger from the ground, and tramped over towards him. Then, stopping just a foot before the Auror, Crouch called into the night. "Blood of the enemy, forcibly stolen, you will resurrect your foe!" Not being able to put up a fight due to the ropes, he grimaced as Crouch ran the silver dagger down his left arm, creating a line of blood that rushed out of the wound. Crouch held a glass vial up to the cut, allowing the trickle of blood to fall into it. Then, staggering back to the cauldron, Barty poured the blood into the cauldron. The liquid within instantly turned into a blinding white. His job done, Crouch fell to the ground, his back against a headstone, cradling his stump of an arm.
"It was supposed to be forcefully, not forcibly! And it was supposed to be foe, not enemy, Barty Crouch!" Voldemort growled in fury, blaming Barty for his own mistake, unknowingly having said the wrong thing himself. "You weak, pathetic fool, you screwed up!" He seethed, his eyes glowing a powerful shade of red.
"Tom, can you hurry and get up already?" Harry mocked, the Elder Wand making his confidence grow exponentially. He had never felt anything like it before; it gave him so much power, so much energy, it exploded his senses and multiplied his magic—all of it was his.
Voldemort struggled to his feet; his left hand rubbing his ribs, while his right hand weakly gripped his wand. Then, suddenly, there was a pain in his head and his eyes went dark, and he found himself in Harry's body, seeing things from the younger wizard's point of view. He stared at his own body for a second, but before he could comprehend what was happening, he was back in his own body. "What was that?" He questioned to himself, his mind becoming cloudier and cloudier with each passing moment. Things were spiraling out of control for him quickly, and if he didn't get it together, he knew that his life would be in serious danger.
The link between us will take another few minutes to dissipate completely just as Albus thought, perhaps I can use this as an advantage, Harry thought to himself, after experiencing a brief moment in Voldemort's body. "I take it your Death Eaters never told you about the Gringotts break-in, did they?" He grinned when he saw Voldemort's surprised reaction. "You see, that's the thing about ruling people in fear, they tend to not be very…efficient." He opined, before resuming the duel between the two.
As the pair dueled, Voldemort's mind drifted off to what was happening to him. His body was tearing itself apart due to the mistake that was made during the ritual that night that he was reborn, but why now, why here? He had gone months without there being any such reactions like he was feeling now. Unless…my Horcruxes truly are gone…and without them, my magic cannot sustain my body, he thought to himself, believing for the first time that what Harry had said was true. The night that his soul was torn from his body the first time, he felt such undeniable and unbearable pain—pain that he never wanted to feel again. So, to prevent falling to what he deemed such a trivial human weakness, he crafted a body that would be cold and desensitized to pain. However, with his Horcruxes destroyed and unable to stabilize his mutilated soul anymore, his spirit couldn't handle his body failing like it was, which created a state of being that made his soul instinctively reach out in a way to save itself. As such, every time he closed his eyes he would enter Potter's mind; every time he blinked, he would see what Harry saw, feel what Harry felt. But then, there was Harry himself, as well, who somehow was using what was happening to Voldemort to his advantage, somehow drawing Voldemort into his own mind to confuse the Dark Lord.
Near the Hogwarts doors, Rabastan Lestrange sighed as a witch's dead body fell to the ground, lifeless. He neither knew nor cared for who it was; just that she was dead was all that mattered. She had put up a good fight for a mudblood, but in the end, her power and magic were nothing compared to a pureblood: or, at least that's what he was supposed to think, supposed to feel. Instead, he felt nothing, as if he was dead inside—a feeling that he had had since he was thrown into Azkaban all those years ago. With his shoulders slumped, and his breathing slowed, he gazed about the battlefield, his brown eyes seemingly looking for something or someone. Blasts, curses, and debris flew through the air, making the beautiful Hogwarts grounds (this was his first time viewing them in person) look like a madhouse: a place of death and pain, instead of learning and laughter as the Founders' intended it to be. As other members of the Order made their way to him for a duel, he saw them in the distance—his son, Despereaux Barnaud, fighting his insane aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange.
Despereaux ducked under a curse, sending one straight back at the black-haired witch, hoping to end the duel soon. She was, admittedly, a better witch than he was wizard, having twenty years more experience, albeit with some of those years locked away in Azkaban. Though he was no slouch in magic, he feared, and rightly so, that if it was an extended, drawn-out battle, it would end badly for him, so he wanted to end the fight as fast as he could. Even with those intentions of Despereaux, Bellatrix seemed to block and parry whatever he sent at her and then returned curses and jinxes expertly. Then, that's when it happened: he tripped over a dead body he did not see and then slipped on the blood-soaked icy grass, and a brown ball-like curse that was meant to turn a person's bones into gelatin hit him square in the chest a second later, sending him flying across the ground, where he landed with a thud and a sickening crack of the ribs.
Laughing maniacally, Bellatrix inched towards her prey, the downed Despereaux. "Time to erase the blood traitors from my family—the Lestrange name will be pruned of disgusting things like you after your death." She stopped ten feet in front of him and whipped her wand, releasing the green sphere of energy that would take Despereaux's life.
"Despereaux!" Rabastan screamed, banishing one of the tree stumps that were left from the giants' destruction into the Killing Curse's projection. He ran, quickly and swiftly, towards his son, blocking Despereaux's bruised and battered body from the ensuing explosion. Rabastan checked his son's body over, making sure he wasn't severely hurt, before getting to his feet and turning to Bellatrix with a hate filled gaze. "You tried to kill my son." Despereaux opened his left eye at what his father had said, his right one being too bruised to see out of, and watched the exchange, as a small, bloody smile appeared on his face.
"He got in my way." Bellatrix sneered back with a shrug, gripping her wand tightly. She knew what was about to come, and she was ready for it—she would destroy everyone in her family if she had to in order to secure their purity and loyalty to the Dark Lord.
"You ruined my life." Rabastan replied, finally accepting the fact that his whole entire life had been one giant mistake: other than his wife Solange and his son Despereaux, he'd done everything bad and nothing good in his life. "But, even worse than that, you almost ended my son's. And that…that is something I can not accept." Rabastan said, lowly, the anger building up inside him, nearing the bursting point. "I did what you and my brother ordered me to, everything you ever asked, AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?" He screamed out, earning the attention of everyone in his vicinity. "You're done!" He yelled out, releasing a brown curse at the witch, the same curse she had hit Despereaux with just minutes before, starting the battle in full.
"You think you can beat me, blood traitor? You'll pay for betraying my lord and our family!" Bellatrix snarled, blocking the curses that Rabastan sent her way with a quick flick of her wand.
Meanwhile, Sirius rolled below a curse as he dueled Voldemort's right hand man, Barty Crouch, Jr. They had been fighting one another since Sirius had stunned Pettigrew, and were deeply engrossed, though Sirius could tell Barty was devoting some of his attention to Voldemort every once and awhile. Harry, it would seem, was giving Voldemort a better fight than Barty ever imagined, and the Death Eater was either worried for his master or making sure the he didn't have to retreat. Sirius didn't mind, however, for even with his prodigious skill and cleverness, Barty was a somewhat better wizard, though by no means out of Sirius' league: any advantage Sirius had was a happy coincidence.
All the way on the other side of the grass, near the lake, Remus was dueling Antonin Dolohov. It was a duel in which the werewolf was barely keeping up—his leg had been gashed open by a curse a few minutes before, preventing him from fighting to the best of his ability. Bolt after bolt of dark magic raced towards Lupin, making the man roll and dive just to stay alive. Luckily for Remus, in the black water of the lake, mermaids and mermen were throwing spears at the assorted Death Eaters that were near enough to the lake, making the wizards block the primitive oncoming attack, including Dolohov. Just then, Remus threw out his wand in a twisting motion, releasing a yellow sphere, which blocked an oncoming pink curse that Dolohov had thrown; the two curses collided into one another, ricocheting away, where they crashed into a boulder off to the side.
Dolohov mumbled something, slashed his hand through the air and a purple curse zigzagged out of his wand, looking a lot like lightning. He smiled as the lightning-like purple curse raced towards Remus, believing it to be nearly impossible for the werewolf to avoid. "Have fun with that," Dolohov cackled arrogantly, watching the curse as it flew towards its intended victim.
"Protego Dirigible!" Remus recited, as he dodged towards to the side of the slowed curse; the curse hit the Specified Shield Charm, which granted the werewolf enough time to move away from certain death before the curse flew past him. "I've heard about that curse, Dolohov." Remus scowled, knowing that was the curse that forced Nymphadora to have a miscarriage a few months prior. "It causes a person to have the feeling of being struck with a blunt blade, without them having any noticeable effects externally, only internally. If you hit them in the chest, they'd be lucky to survive."
"I see you did your homework." Dolohov said with a slight bow, clearly mocking Remus. "I created it just for freaks like you."
Remus growled and sent a jinx at Dolohov, who managed to duck out of the way, before sending another curse towards Remus. Should it be Expulso or Confringo, Remus questioned to himself, trying to decide which spell to use. "Confringo!" Remus yelled, directing his wand at the ground underneath Antonin's feet. Snow, dirt, and dead grass flew up into the air immediately, sending Dolohov sprawling across the ground, nearly twenty feet away from where he once stood. He got to his feet with a scowl, staring angrily at Remus with narrowed eyes, not realizing that he was standing directly in the middle of an ongoing duel. There was a flash from his left hand side, and in a second, he was hit with a curse from a Death Eater; he then crumpled to the ground with a sickening scream, unmoving.
A hundred feet away from Remus, Cedric was dueling Voldemort's left hand man, Quirinus Quirrell. While Quirrell was a decently powerful wizard, Cedric was filled with righteous anger over everything that had happened in their fight against Voldemort, which fueled his magic and allowed him to surpass Quirrell. As such, Quirrell was barely hanging on, having to dodge, duck, and shield himself from Cedric's ongoing barrage of curses, jinxes, and hexes. Cedric jabbed his wand out like it was a knife, and a blast of flames immediately left its tip, catching Quirrell's robes in flames. Quickly, Quirrell squashed the flames out with his wand, leaving his left leg slightly burned, which would be extremely detrimental to his fighting abilities.
"Looks like you won't be able to dodge anymore, Quirrell." Cedric whispered with a smile, realizing that the duel would be coming to an end soon. All he wanted to was go and help his good friend Viktor in his duel against two Death Eaters that was happening a little way away from him.
Near the Forbidden Forest, a few Aurors and Hit Wizards were guarding the perimeter, every so often engaging a Death Eater who came their way, but generally keeping their eyes firmly on the forest. As they all scanned the forest, one of them saw a line of bright white corpses walking through the trees, slowly making their way towards the battle. "Those are Inferi!" The Auror yelled out, alerting the others to what he saw.
Sure enough, an entire army of Inferi came marching out of the forest, led by a single Death Eater. With the skills they were taught during their training jumping to the front of their mind, the Aurors and Hit Wizards all raised their wands and released a blast of fire that created a line between the forest and the battle. The line served as a sort of protector, preventing the Inferi from moving any further or harming anybody with their cold, deadly hands. The Inferi backed away from the line of flames, held at bay for the time being, until the Death Eater that was leading them whipped his wand and extinguished the flames. Then, from behind the Inferi, black cloaks flew at the Aurors as a distraction, tackling them down to the ground and engulfing their faces in their thick black cloak-like bodies.
"Expecto Patronum!" A free Hit Wizard screamed out into the night, as a silver mist-like shield engulfed him, protecting him from the cloak-monsters. "Lethifolds are not immune to the Patronus Charm, remember." How did they ever get lethifolds, he thought to himself, succumbing to the fear that was deep inside of him, aren't they supposed to be in warm climates?
There was a flood of Patronuses taking shape, all chasing the lethifolds off of the Aurors that had been tackled down to the ground and back into the forest that they came from. As they all tried to regroup to fight off the oncoming Inferi, one of them noticed that an Auror was unmoving, apparently too badly injured by the lethifold that had attacked him; a few Hit Wizards rushed over to him, but unfortunately the Auror died before his comrades could help him to safety. As the battle against the Inferi reached its peak, a Hit Wizard sent a stunner at the Death Eater that was controlling the Inferi, hitting him in the chest quicker than he could turn his attention from the Inferi to protecting himself. Without a wizard to help them, the Inferi were left vulnerable to fire and as a result, they were easily corralled into a circle of flames, leaving them useless and impotent, taking them out of the raging battle.
Meanwhile, the duel between Bellatrix and Rabastan was seemingly coming to an end, as Bellatrix was forced to dodge curse after curse from Rabastan's wand. She was incredibly agile and athletic for her age, being able to back flip and cartwheel easily, and being able to roll and somersault away from any danger that came her way. She tried to close the distance between Rabastan and herself by diving onto the ground and rolling forward, but was prevented from doing that by a jinx sent from Rabastan's wand. Unfortunately, as she jumped back to her feet, she didn't see the green light of death make contact with her stomach before she was dead, hitting the ground with a loud thump—her body was cold and lifeless, and her violet eyes were still open.
"Insane nutter," Rabastan sighed, falling down onto the ground, drained of energy. As he laid on the cold earth, he stared up at the brilliant stars in the sky and gave out a cold, emotionless laugh, thinking about his life, though he didn't know exactly why he was laughing. He couldn't explain it, but in that moment, he just felt like laughing.
In the center of the field, where the battle between the Dark Lord and the leader of the Order of the Phoenix was still ongoing, Harry and Voldemort both sent curses at each other at exactly the same time, and as a result, the two bolts of magic made contact with one another in the space between Harry and Voldemort. The spells were each deflected back towards their creator, forcing Harry to quickly spin out of the way and turn his attention away from Voldemort. Voldemort meanwhile flew up into the air with a plume of black smoke trailing in his wake to avoid the attack, and landed safely a few yards away, unaffected by the curse. "That wand, tell me, where did you get it?" Voldemort questioned, his eyes fixated on the black piece of wood in Harry's hand.
"Take a wild guess," Harry replied, preparing to attack Voldemort. Without warning, Harry jutted his wand outwards and a great burst of energy left its tip, where it traveled through the ground and up underneath Voldemort's feet. The surprised Dark Lord was thrown off of his feet and into the air, and Harry immediately slashed his wand in a downwards angle. As a result, Voldemort was thrown back down onto the ground with great force and a sickening crack. Voldemort rolled over and got to his knees, before he picked himself up off of the ground, blood accumulating on the side of his lips.
Harry walked forwards, slowly and mockingly, with his wand raised in the air, pointed at Voldemort's thin body. Then, with a great jolt in his head, Voldemort closed his eyes, and when he opened them he was looking at his body from Potter's mind once more. As if possessed, he raised Potter's wand, and sent the Killing Curse at his own body, its green light sailing, swooshing through the air. It neared his body, coming terribly close to him, and then just as suddenly as before, he was in his own body again, watching as the green light zoomed at him, a little less than a foot away. Confused by what had happened, Voldemort couldn't duck or dodge, and was forced to take the jet of light into his own body.
It hit Voldemort straight in the face, his red eyes wide with fear, anger, and what Harry believed to be despair. Above all, Tom Riddle was scared to face death, and he was searching for a way to avoid it all of his life, especially in the brief moments before the Killing Curse hit him. Unlike most people, who dropped dead immediately after getting hit with the light of death, Voldemort rasped around on the ground for a few seconds, while his body glowed a sickly, unnatural green colored light. He got back to his knees, as if to rise, and at the exact same moment, Harry shot a hand up to his scar as pain erupted in his head.
Nymphadora, Broderick Bode, and Kingsley Shacklebolt all came running up to the scene when they saw Voldemort was on his knees, their eyes gaping at the sight, looking on with confusion. Harry was on his knees as well, a pain attacking his head like never before. Voldemort's body made a sound, and just as Harry regained enough attention to be able to watch what was happening, Voldemort's magic exploded outwards in a blast of dark green light, knocking all that were in a twenty yard radius down to the ground, including Tonks, who was hit by the light in the abdomen. Voldemort's body crashed to the ground, and did not move: Lord Voldemort, Tom Marvolo Riddle was dead.
The entire battle seemed to stop all of the sudden. Then, it was as if the Death Eaters were summoned away, because as a group they all turned and started to run for the gates of Hogwarts. There was a great rush of people as the Hit Wizards and Aurors chased after the Death Eaters, trying to prevent as many as they could from escaping. "Get them!" Gawain Robards shouted, not wanting a single Death Eater to get away and escape their punishment—he knew how many Death Eaters had gotten away without a scratch after the last war, it was an injustice that he never wanted to see happen again. Gawain's eyes flicked over to John Dawlish, who was limping towards him, apparently having hurt his left leg in the battle. "Get mediwizards here right away, there are people who can still be saved!" He said to Dawlish, who nodded and went off to perform his task.
After getting back to his feet and making sure Tonks was okay, Harry bent down and picked up his broken wand and put in inside his robes along with the Elder Wand, and then tentatively made his way towards the spot on the ground that Voldemort had crumpled onto. He stood over Voldemort's body and stared down at the fallen Dark Lord, an indifferent expression on his face. "Rot wherever you go," Harry hissed in parseltongue, inwardly happy that his parselmouth ability was his own and not a gift granted to him by Voldemort's attack as a baby that could have disappeared when his connection with Voldemort was severed. He had come to rely on his ability over the years, and to lose it would be a detriment to himself—after all, he had countless of tomes in his library that were written entirely in parseltongue that he wouldn't be able to read if he lost his ability.
Behind Harry and across the field, around ten yards away from the doors of Hogwarts, Neville Longbottom helped Despereaux Barnaud to his feet. "I'm okay," Despereaux whispered groggily, nodding his head to Neville. Despereaux looked over Neville's shoulder, and then rushed towards Rabastan, who was now standing over Bellatrix's dead body. "Pere!" Despereaux yelled out in French, gaining his father's attention as Neville ran behind him.
"Despereaux, you're okay!" Rabastan smiled, and then flicked his gaze over to Neville, who was standing next to Despereaux. "Longbottom, I trust you're all right, as well."
"What are you still doing here? You have to get going." Despereaux ordered, wanting his father to escape to safety, rather than be caught by the Aurors. While they had their differences, and he would never forgive his father for leaving him as a baby to join the Death Eaters, hearing his father defend him from Bellatrix sparked something in inside of him—instead of anger, all he felt for his father was sadness. He couldn't help but admit to himself that all this time he wasn't angry at Rabastan; he was sad, sad that he didn't know what it was like to have a father around while he grew up. However, even with that epiphany, the only reason he was allowing his father to leave was because he saved his life, as well as Neville's life numerous times. "Go." Despereaux said, pointing to the path across the way that would lead to the gates; nearly all of the Death Eaters were heading that way, trying to escape.
Neville nodded his head in agreement next to Despereaux, looking from Rabastan to Despereaux. "No one will stop you. You saved me, you saved us, and I heard you: you didn't want how your life turned out. Go, run, leave, hide and you won't be found."
"No," Rabastan said, shaking his head in the negative. "I'm not running." He dropped his wand onto the ground, and held his hands up in the air, as if he was surrendering. "I'm going back to Azkaban, paying my debt, accepting my punishment."
"But," Despereaux replied, confused, not understanding what his father was saying.
"No buts, Despereaux." Rabastan chided, giving his son a large, happy smile. "Here, take this," He said, reaching into his robes and pulling out a piece of parchment that was tightly wrapped around a bronze Gringotts' key. He had planned just two days before to eventually give the key to Despereaux that's why he secured it in his robes—he knew that handing his son the key was the right and noble thing to do. "The key is for my personal vault and it will allow you to enter the Lestrange Family vault, as well. It's yours, all of it."
"Are you sure?" Despereaux questioned, knowing just how much money the Lestranges had. They were an ancient and wealthy pureblood family, with numerous heirlooms safely locked away deep inside their vault: it would be a cache of riches of the likes that Despereaux had never seen before. While it was true that his mother was wealthy via his maternal grandfather Nicolo Barnaud, the famous alchemist, he had only seen a pittance of it, whereas the Lestrange would all be his. He was already forming ideas in his mind on what to do with the money, which he planned to spend in ways that would hopefully wipe away the stain that the Lestrange name had upon it for all time.
"It's yours." Rabastan smiled once more, before grabbing his wand off of the ground and sending a Stunning Charm at a Death Eater who was running for the gates. The light of the stunner nailed the Death Eater in the back, and he immediately fell to the ground, falling head over heels into the snow.
"Thank you," Despereaux said with a lump in his throat. He looked down at the rolled up parchment that was around the key, and quietly untied the twine and unrolled it, wanting to read what it had to say.
Despereaux,
This is the key to my Gringotts Vault, the number is 898. It will also grant you access to the Lestrange Family Vault deeper down in the caverns.
It's yours, all of it.
Love always,
Rabastan
I'm sorry for everything.
"I love you, son." Rabastan said, as Kingsley Shacklebolt meandered over to them. "You don't have to worry about me, I'm not going anywhere. Use your time to capture all of the runners." He muttered, hoping that he would be able to spend a little more time with his son—he knew that after that, he would probably never see Despereaux again, which was something that broke his heart into pieces.
All the while, Sirius was sprinting as fast as he could towards the location that he had left Peter Pettigrew stunned. He weaved in and out of the Aurors that were running the opposite way, until he finally reached his destination. He frantically moved his gaze over the patch of land, searching for the rat, trying to find his unconscious body. "He's gone!" He screamed out after a minute of looking. "He escaped again, Remus, again!"
"We'll find him," Remus replied, slightly out of breath as he ran up to where Sirius was standing. "He couldn't have gotten far." He looked over to Sirius, and with a nod, the pair ran into the Forbidden Forest, intent on finding the rat that was their former friend. Just as they entered the forest, they saw a hooded Death Eater dashing through the trees, his wand raised in the air with a small light at its tip, illuminating the way. "Stop!" Remus yelled out, trying to catch up to the Death Eater.
The Death Eater looked back at them, and from a distance, Sirius was just able to make out who it was: Barty Crouch, Jr.—the pair had finished their duel without a winner, and after Voldemort fell, Barty ran off, leaving Sirius alone. With all the energy the pair could muster, they chased after the Death Eater, knowing that Voldemort's second in command couldn't be allowed to escape. To their right, they both heard the thundering hooves of the centaur herds, but they paid it no mind, instead focusing on their pursuit. As they ran, Sirius tripped over a log and stumbled a bit, allowing Barty to gain a little ground on the pair.
Ten minutes or so passed, with Remus and Sirius still following Barty, until a giant, eight-legged acromantula appeared before the two friends, forcing them to come to a halt. "Move out of the way," Sirius growled, trying to get by the spider so they could continue the pursuit.
"Sirius," Remus whispered, as he spun around on his heels, watching as numerous acromantulas encircled the pair. "Perhaps we should worry about ourselves, before going after Crouch or Pettigrew."
"Do you have any ideas?" Sirius questioned, realizing for the first time that they were in trouble.
"Just one," Remus muttered, grabbing his wand and twisting it through the air. "Arania Exumai!" There was a sound like a cannon shot and a burst of white light that jumped out of Remus' wand, blinding the acromantula that the wand was pointed at.
"This is our forest," The biggest acromantula said as one of his brothers was hit with the spell from Remus' wand and sent tumbling backwards on the ground. "When fresh meat comes so willingly into our home, who are we to turn it down?"
"I suggest we run!" Sirius said, as he blasted another acromantula away, which created a large gap in the circle, space enough for them to slip through. They weaved in and out of the trees as the acromantulas chased after them with their eight legs, and as they neared the forest edge, they met a group of Aurors, who were just entering. "Acromantulas!" Sirius yelled out, warning the Aurors, who had raised their wands at both Remus and Sirius, believing them to be Death Eaters.
As they exited the forest, they both let out curses of disappointment, each knowing that they would probably never see Pettigrew again. After all, why would he show himself ever again? He didn't reveal himself for twenty years during the time that Voldemort was supposedly destroyed the first time on Halloween night, and this time he has tangible proof of Voldemort's destruction. There would be no reason to even stay in the country, let alone appear as a human, when he could just hide out as a rat to avoid the Aurors and Hit Wizards that would be after him. Because of that, they both knew he was gone forever, escaping the revenge that Sirius so desired and, in some ways, deserved.
A mass of Death Eaters ran down the dirt path that would lead to Hogsmeade, rushing away from the Aurors and Hit Wizards that were chasing behind them. As the front of the group came into view of the gates, one of them tried to blast the gates apart, but the spell was deflected away by the wards that Voldemort had put on before his battle with Harry. They got closer and closer to the gates, and the Death Eater again sent a curse. Fortunately for the Death Eaters, the gates flung off their hinges this time, granting the Death Eaters an escape. However, when they entered Hogsmeade, they were met with a mixed group of Hogsmeade citizens, who were led by Aberforth Dumbledore, and various Ministry Officials who had arrived at Hogwarts late.
"Don't let them escape!" An Auror shouted from behind the group of Death Eaters, alerting the flock of wizards and witches that converged at the gates.
A small skirmish ensued, with the Death Eaters who were still within the Hogwarts anti-apparition wards desperately trying to fight their way through the Hogsmeade citizens. They dared not send Killing Curses, for fear of they themselves getting it due to the close proximity, but that didn't stop them from tossing curses and jinxes that were nearly as dark. Once the Death Eaters were clear, they disapparated away, not caring about their fellow dark wizards, only desiring to escape to freedom. Some of the Death Eaters, however, were stunned or disarmed before they ever cleared the wards, preventing them from escaping justice.
Meanwhile, as both light and dark wizards scurried about around him, Harry Potter stood in the center of the field, a blank look on his face. His wife, Nymphadora Potter, came up behind him and placed her left hand in his right, giving him a small smile as she looked up at him. "It's over." She whispered into his ear, happy to finally rid herself of the Dark Lord and the terror that he had spread about the country.
Harry stayed silent, instead just nodding his head. He stared out across the land, seeing all the dead wizarding folk who gave their lives, knowing that they would need to be honored in the future, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he focused on the now and how happy he was, so incredibly happy: happy that he had gotten his revenge for the death of his friends and parents, happy that he had stopped a menace, happy that Voldemort was finally dead, and happy that there would be no return for Voldemort this time. He once thought that he was in too deep in his fight against Voldemort, but in the end he had come out triumphant. He had weathered the storm and had met every challenge that destiny threw at him, which was a fact that made him extremely proud. Now, now he was free from all of that. For the first time in his life, he was free.
AN: Some of the spells that were in this chapter that are of my own design will be explained in more detail in my next story, Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun. This includes the "Protego Dirigible" charm that Remus used.