Chapter 43
The Master of Fire
Lyra awoke, the searing pain in her chest gradually subsiding. Her body ached as if she had endured a merciless pummeling from a gang of river trolls, yet the mission was accomplished. Her immediate concern, however, was Harry's well-being. She needed to ensure that her reckless pursuit of unlocking her own potential hadn't inadvertently harmed him. This destructive pattern was all too familiar to her.
As Lyra stirred, she realized she didn't recall lying down. She wondered if the room's occupants had somehow witnessed the fierce battle she had just waged. To her surprise, the room was empty, save for Arianna's portrait, that watched over her serenely, perhaps guarding her previously unconscious state.
Struggling to rise, Lyra's legs felt like jelly, and a dizzying sensation enveloped her. Nevertheless, she managed to shuffle over to the potions table Snape had set up in the room. The stillness in the room was eerie. With effort, Lyra reached for a couple of strengthening potions and downed them, immediately feeling a modicum of relief. Amidst the array of vials, something golden caught her eye. She furrowed her brow as she extracted the vial filled with golden liquid.
"Felix Felicis?" She thought aloud, inspecting the aged and weathered vial. It seemed to be easily more than a decade old, and she wondered if the potion still retained its potency. She pocketed it, recognizing the immense value of a little luck, especially for someone as chronically unlucky as herself. When misfortune's favorite target stumbled upon a bottle of luck, the first instinct was to safeguard it—for emergencies.
Lyra couldn't help but wonder if the rest of the party had moved upstairs to await her recovery. However, a nagging feeling told her otherwise. The room had been abandoned hastily, and even the bag of Horcruxes remained behind, an anomaly that defied logic. Dumbledore wouldn't be so careless unless there was a good reason. Perhaps he intended it as a safeguard, she wondered. No one would really enter the Hogshead's basement, there was hardly anything worthwhile here.
Just as she contemplated these mysteries, the faint sound of something slithering sent a shiver down her spine. Lyra moved cautiously towards the Horcrux bag, her senses on high alert. That's when she spotted it—a colossal python? Only Demetrius possessed the knowledge to identify the breed with a mere glance, but Demetrius was nowhere to be found. His expertise in communicating with snakes would have been invaluable at this moment.
"Hello, Snakey! I see you've come to collect these for your master...huh?" Lyra addressed the snake, attempting to establish some form of communication. The snake, now fully aware of her presence, coiled defensively, its poisonous fangs poised to strike should she approach the bag any further.
"Let's calm the fuck down, alright!" Lyra snapped at the snake, knowing full well the creature couldn't understand her.
Then it struck her—the Felix Felicis! This was as good a time as any. Without hesitation, she emptied the potion into her mouth, relying on a stroke of luck as she reached out for the bag.
"I'm just going to take this...alright? That's a nice snake..." Lyra muttered, attempting to reach for the bag of horcruxes on the table. Unfortunately, luck did not instantly favor her. The snake struck with deadly precision, but Lyra managed to dodge it, falling to the ground as the bag flew into a corner. The serpent swiftly coiled itself around her, its grip unyielding, as if it intended to crush her bones to dust. Her arms were immobilized, rendering her unable to reach her wand or even twist her ring.
As the snake tightened its grip, Lyra gasped for breath, staring at the creature's menacing fangs, ready to pierce her heart. She closed her eyes, resigning herself to what seemed like an absurdly stupid death.
Suddenly, the pressure on her body eased, and Lyra, who had already accepted her imminent fate, cautiously opened her eyes. She heard a fading, familiar voice, and realization dawned on her. This snake, Voldemort's loyal companion and the elusive final Horcrux, that they had been tirelessly trying to lure away from its master, now lay lifeless. And as fate would have it, Neville Longbottom had been the one to vanquish it.
"Healer Marks...are you alright? Harry told me to stand guard with the sword!" Neville exclaimed with concern, placing a trembling hand on Lyra's heaving back.
Lyra struggled to catch her breath as she peered at the snake, its head severed from its body, lifeless, and surrounded by a pool of its own blood.
"Neville...you saved my life!" Lyra exclaimed, gripping Neville's shoulders with gratitude. He blushed and offered a shy, yet proud smile. He had saved her life, and the great Lyra Marks herself was acknowledging his courage.
"Thank you for being so brave, Neville!" Lyra expressed warmly. Neville looked at her with a mix of astonishment and humility.
"It was nothing, ma'am...you've been fighting for my parents, even when there isn't much left to fight for. I had to save you! This was just a silly snake...I'm sure you've faced much worse, like a dragon! Besides, I got to use the sword!" Neville said, displaying the sword of Gryffindor, its blade stained with blood and dark magic residue, which the sword effortlessly absorbed.
"Neville...you have no idea what you've accomplished!" Lyra exclaimed joyfully, pulling the boy into a heartfelt hug.
"It's just luck that I heard you stirring, ma'am...and for some reason, Harry and Professor Dumbledore left me with the sword. Hey!" Neville began explaining but was surprised when the sword suddenly vanished from his grasp.
"It was indeed incredibly lucky!"
"What's happening? Where is everyone?" Lyra inquired of Neville as she retrieved the bag of Horcruxes and carefully tucked it into her outer-cloak pocket.
"Hogwarts is under attack. Do you remember the prison break from three months ago...when Bella...Bellatrix Lestrange, along with many other Death Eaters, managed to escape? They were foolish enough to come to Hogwarts tonight...to finish the job, they said." Neville explained, his voice trembling with fear and urgency.
"Then an army of Death Eaters joined in...the castle and grounds are in chaos..."
Lyra pieced together Neville's disjointed account of the night's horrors, his words painting a grim picture of the ongoing battle.
"You've done exceptionally well, Neville. Let's go help the others!" Lyra declared, turning her attention to the portrait of Arianna.
"Please, grant us passage..." She implored the portrait gently. Arianna smiled warmly and gracefully bowed, as if granting them entry into a hidden sanctuary.
"Come on, Neville!" Lyra urged, igniting the tip of her wand as they ventured into the concealed tunnel, uncertain of where it would lead.
Minutes later, they emerged from the tunnel into a darkened room. As they entered, they found themselves in a cozy living room. Neville made his way to a window, peering outside to witness the chaotic scene unfolding on the Hogwarts grounds. Flashes of light and deafening sounds echoed, shaking the castle, signaling the collapse of the protective wards.
Meanwhile, Lyra explored the room and noticed numerous framed photographs on the mantle. Some had Albus and Minerva together, capturing moments of their youthful laughter and more recent shared experiences. A few showcased the Dumbledore siblings with their parents. It gradually dawned on Lyra that she was standing inside Albus Dumbledore's private quarters. Until now, she had only seen his vast office, never his living space. It bore little resemblance to his messy office; everything was impeccably organized. Bookshelves held a vast array of meticulously arranged books, certificates, and medals. The Order of Merlin-First Class shone with particular prominence.
A selection of photos next to the ones she recognized immediately caught her eye. They were undoubtedly recent additions and featured her. One showed Minerva cradling her as a tiny baby. Another captured Minerva and her as a toddler. A third depicted her as a young child, beaming at the camera, arms outstretched in a plea to be lifted. There were images from her days playing Quadpot at AIMS, one with Michelin, another from her AIMS graduation, and one from the 27 Coven's initiation ceremony.
Another prominent frame on the wall displayed newspaper clippings showcasing her greatest accomplishments. The picture that Rita Skeeter had forced them to take during the tournament had it's own frame. Lyra silently chuckled remembering her reluctance to even be a part of that charade.
Among the photographs on the wall, there was one particularly striking image from two years ago. It had been captured at the Hogshead during that fateful Christmas. In the picture, Albus and she were both seated, engaged in lively conversation, undoubtedly bemoaning some particularly vexing aspect of their lives, perhaps even Grandma M's antics. She had no idea when Aberforth had managed to take the photo, but it perfectly encapsulated a moment of genuine friendship.
In the image, their laughter echoed through time. Both were clearly under the influence of Fire Whiskey, their faces flushed with the warmth of the alcohol, their smiles wide and infectious—the same charming smiles that had illuminated countless moments through their lives, separately, but that distinct smile plastered on both their faces was indistinguishable.
Lyra's eyes welled with tears as she took in the array of photographs, realizing that there were only a few images of her and Albus together. Yet, his mantle was adorned so proudly and heavily with pictures of her. It was evident that he cherished her, cherished her mere presence in his life, however fleeting it may have been. He seldom expressed his paternal affection, possibly unsure of how to navigate such emotions, and they rarely discussed the complexity of their secret. But now, in the silent eloquence of these photographs, she saw undeniable proof of his love for her.
"Ms. Marks! Ms. Marks! We have to get down there...we must help them!" Neville's urgent cries brought her back from her introspection, almost startling her.
Lyra frowned and joined Neville at the window to survey the turmoil unfolding below.
The entire Order had arrived, engaged in a fierce battle with Death Eaters and a motley assortment of dark creatures. Students had risen to the occasion, fighting alongside the adults to drive the Death Eaters back in numbers. The protective enchantments around Hogwarts had crumbled, and Dementors swarmed ominously in packs. However, an unceasing barrage of powerful patronuses emanated from a single source, repelling the Dementors. Aberforth, their unwavering caster, stood resolutely at the castle's entrance.
Lyra's gaze swept through the chaotic scene below. She observed the professors at the forefront, defending the castle with unwavering resolve. Their magical prowess was nothing short of astonishing. Flitwick and Sprout fought as a formidable duo, with Professor Sprout utilizing Mandrakes to deafen and then stunning Death Eaters with precision. Professor Flitwick employed a dazzling array of charms to outwit and incapacitate their foes.
Professor Binns had rallied the castle's ghosts, including the mischievous Peeves, who tormented the Death Eaters with his paranormal antics. Professors Sinistra and Vector stood back-to-back, showcasing remarkable defensive tactics. Even Professor Trelawney, wielding crystal balls as deadly projectiles, eliminated Death Eaters from her lofty vantage point in the Divination classroom. She locked eyes with Lyra from afar, offering an encouraging smile before launching a crystal ball that shattered a Werewolf's skull just in time to save a student. She seemed to have aim that could have been equated to a professional chaser.
Lyra then spotted her mother in action. The tales of Minerva's daunting magical abilities came to life before her eyes as she witnessed her mother casting a single spell that transfigured the stone statues and gargoyles guarding Hogwarts' entrances into animated defenders. The statues marched resolutely toward the Death Eaters before Minerva rejoined the fray. With elegant precision, she dispatched three Death Eaters with a single Diffendo that cleanly cut them down. Minerva proceeded deeper into the battlefield, where Hagrid, centaurs, and even massive spiders fought against the encroaching Death Eaters and their army of dark creatures.
"Come on, Longbottom...let me show you how it's done!" Lyra declared, seizing Neville by the front of his robes and leading him toward the battleground. Their wands were drawn, and they charged down to join the fight, determined to make a difference.
As Lyra and Neville fought their way toward the grounds, they defended each other from a relentless barrage of attacks. Numerous Death Eaters fell before them as they made their way through the chaotic battlefield. However, three menacing figures blocked their path.
"Well...well...look who's finally decided to join the fight...the American Dumbledore!" Taunted the woman with wild, unkempt hair, her sinister laughter filling the air. Lyra raised her wand, ready to confront her, but she couldn't help but notice that Neville's face had drained of colour.
"Bellatrix Lestrange, I presume?" Lyra inquired, her gaze shifting to Neville, who appeared as if he'd seen a ghost. He managed a shaky nod in response.
"Oh, you've heard of me...little one? Are you frightened?" Bellatrix jeered, her eyes narrowing as she examined Neville's face closely.
"You're the reason my parents are still in St. Mungo's!"
"Longbottom? You're the son...of those two aren't you? You look a lot like your mum...tell me...are they enjoying their...early retirement?" Bellatrix's laughter rang out chillingly. Neville could no longer contain his anger. He unleashed a powerful stunning spell that struck one of the Death Eaters squarely in the chest. Lyra joined the fight, engaging Bellatrix while Neville confronted the remaining Death Eater.
"Don't concern yourself with him...focus on me...American Dumbledore!" Bellatrix taunted, her voice dripping with derision.
"Crucio!" Bellatrix hissed, directing the Unforgivable Curse at Lyra. Agonizing pain surged through her body as she writhed on the ground.
"I didn't think...it'd be so easy to get rid of you..."
"Petrificus Totalus!" Lyra yelled through her pain on the floor. Bellatrix deflected the spell toward another target with a casual flick of her wand.
"Well...this will be easy..." Bellatrix sneered. Lyra, despite her agony, managed to evade the Killing Curse that was hurled her way, her body seemingly guided by the residual effects of the Felix Felicis.
With great effort, Lyra twisted her ring.
"Incendio!"
A burst of fire erupted from her wand, creating a blazing ring around them.
"Is that all you've got?" Bellatrix teased.
"Oh, I've only just begun!"
A fierce duel raged between the two women, non-verbal hexes and jinxes crisscrossing the fiery battleground. Multiple Unforgivable Curses were cast at Lyra, but none found their mark. It seemed her element was providing her with an extraordinary degree of protection.
Exhausted from their relentless exchange, they both stood, panting heavily and glaring at each other. Bellatrix then unleashed a spell that Lyra had never encountered before—a dark incantation that propelled razor-sharp shards of glass toward her. Lyra swiftly deflected the shards with a protective shield conjured in front of her. In the blink of an eye, she instinctively twisted her ring again as a searing ball of fire hurtled toward Bellatrix. The fiery projectile struck its target squarely in the stomach, causing Bellatrix to convulse in agony. She collapsed several meters away from her initial position, her screams echoing through the battlefield as she clutched her burnt torso.
Lyra's shock was evident as she walked towards the fallen woman. A pool of blood began to seep from between Bellatrix's legs, staining the ground crimson. The realization struck her like a lightning bolt—this woman had been pregnant? The question hung in the air, its answers eluding comprehension. How could this be possible? What kind of mother would willingly place her unborn child in such grave danger?
"You...you murderer!" Bellatrix howled, her voice a pained, furious wail as she clung to her stomach.
Lyra held her wand tightly, her eyes fixed on Bellatrix, her emotions a vortex of remorse and pity.
"I...I didn't...I didn't know..." Lyra stammered, a profound sense of dread welling up within her. Despite Bellatrix's madness, Lyra had never intended to harm her unborn child. It was innocent, after all.
"You...you...really care, don't you? You truly believe in using magic for good." Bellatrix responded, her laughter laced with pain and tears.
"I...I do..." Lyra replied, echoing the motto of the 27.
Bellatrix's complexion was growing paler, and she raised her wand unsteadily toward Lyra. Lyra watched her with a mixture of sympathy and concern.
"Don't!" Lyra stated pitifully, but Bellatrix weakly attempted to cast another Cruciatus Curse, her spell fell short, lacking the necessary strength to even reach Lyra.
Lyra observed the woman before her with a heavy heart.
"Don't keep doing this..."
"Stop me then..."
"Stop yourself..."
"I will never stop...not until it kills me...or kills all these Mudbloods!"
Lyra let out a heavy sigh, her compassion outweighing her desire to inflict further harm on the woman before her. Bellatrix's attempts to rise were futile; she continued to slip in her own blood, her strength deteriorating quickly.
Lyra approached Bellatrix, extending a hand to offer assistance. The deranged woman clutched Lyra with blood-stained hands, screaming in agonized fury as her blood pooled around her.
Lyra couldn't disregard the depths of Bellatrix's suffering, even though the woman had been twisted and malevolent. Lyra's choice to offer aid was rooted in her unwavering belief in the potential for compassion and mercy, even in the presence of such profound darkness.
As Bellatrix clung to Lyra, her blood-stained hands marring Lyra's once-pristine white shirt, she emitted a chilling, mirthless laugh. In that moment, a harrowing realization coursed through Lyra's mind—the woman was branding her as the murderer of her child.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Lyra incanted, causing Bellatrix's face to freeze with a deranged, maniacal grin.
"Levicorpus..." Lyra muttered, lifting the immobilized woman's body and discreetly placing her in a shadowy corner of the corridor, hoping she would go unnoticed amid the chaos.
"I'm sorry...about your child..." Lyra whispered apologetically as she looked down at the woman.
With one final glance, Lyra swiftly moved towards the exit, her heart pounding with guilt and regret. Her actions toward Bellatrix, however wicked and malevolent the woman had been, left her feeling repulsed and tormented. She had wanted to help, to save the child, but it had been too late, and its mother had made a fateful choice.
Lyra continued down the chaotic battlefield, passing by the Shorthorn brothers locked in fierce combat against their family. Sarah, now a capable duelist herself, met Lyra's gaze with confidence as she deftly blocked an incoming attack. Aries stood protectively beside his brother and Sarah, just as Lyra had tirelessly instructed him throughout their training sessions over the year.
Lyra halted in her path, her instincts urging her to intervene. However, Sarah shook her head firmly, signaling that this was her battle, and she didn't require Lyra's assistance this time.
Lyra didn't leave though. To her surprise, Michelin and Zenia appeared by their daughter's side, joining her in the intense duel. Michelin engaged in a brutal confrontation with the patriarch of the Shorthorn family, while Zenia combined her expertise in potions with her defensive skills to bolster the group's efforts.
"Go, LYRA! Find Tessra!" Michelin urgently commanded his sister, his protective instincts kicking in as he noticed her standing there, blood-soaked and uncharacteristically passive. For a fleeting moment, he saw her as the defenseless six-year-old child he had first met, vulnerable and in need of protection. Lyra shook her head, torn between the desire to stay by her brother's side and the knowledge that she was no longer that helpless child. Michelin could see it in her eyes.
Michelin unleashed a powerful spell at the Shorthorn patriarch, lifting him off his feet and thrashing him onto the ground like a rag doll. Zeus swiftly disarmed his father, rendering him defenseless. Aries stepped forward and cast a nonverbal spell at his father, petrifying him in place. The two brothers exchanged a meaningful look before Zeus enveloped Aries in a tight hug.
"LYRA! GO! We've got this under control!" Michelin called out to his sister once more, his voice resolute.
This time, Lyra heeded his words and pressed forward toward the grounds. She deftly dodged one attack after another, her eyes scanning the battlefield for any sign of Tessra. It was then that she spotted Burst, lifting Death Eaters off the ground and releasing them from great heights. Lyra sprinted toward her faithful companion, fending off assailants with remarkable ease. The effects of the Felix Felicis were indeed working like a charm.
"LYRA!" Tessra's voice rang out in a mixture of shock and relief as she continued to wield the element of earth, burying a few Death Eaters beneath the ground.
Lyra hugged her mentor tightly, her heart filled with gratitude. She sensed the eyes of her comrades upon her and turned to see every member of the 27, their hands placed over their chests, gazing at her with unwavering determination. Her coven had come to her aid—they were here to stand by her side.
"Thank you!" Lyra replied, overwhelmed by their presence. She reciprocated the gesture by placing her hand over her chest and bowing deeply to them, a profound respect filling her heart.
"The coven takes care of its own..." Erasmus declared loudly within the assembly of the 27. The crowd responded with unified agreement. Lyra couldn't contain her gratitude, her appreciation radiating from her face.
"For the Master of Fire!" Tessra commanded, proudly raising her white wood wand.
The rest of the coven followed suit. Beams of light erupted from the tips of their wands, dispelling the dark clouds in the sky that had been brought by the Dementors. And just like that, The Battle of Hogwarts had transformed into an international war against Voldemort and his followers. The 27 Coven, comprised of America's most powerful witches and wizards, had openly declared war on the Death Eaters.
The spells unleashed by the 27 displayed the reasons for their revered status among their peers and countrymen. Elemental magic melded seamlessly with raw power, as each witch and wizard effortlessly dispatched the Death Eaters. It was as if they were uniquely designed to combat this particular brand of evil. Erasmus and his Grim performed wonders with water magic and his skills in curses. Tessra and Demetrius fought side by side, their potent elemental magic of earth and water decimating everything unsavory in their path. Lyra added her own fire magic to the mix. The three elements danced gracefully, a harmonious symphony of power that had never been witnessed before, each element ready to destroy at their masters' command.
Within moments, the Death Eater army began to dwindle, some fleeing, others falling to their knees, and a few surrendering. The chaos was gradually subsiding, and victory seemed within reach.
Lyra's gaze eventually found Harry and her father, battling alongside each other against the Death Eaters. She smiled as she watched her father mentor the young wizard through spell after spell, the boy following his guidance without complaint.
Searching through the crowd, Lyra eventually spotted Severus Snape, a figure she had been looking for. She had hoped he would stay hidden, preserving his life and role as a valuable spy in case their efforts tonight failed. However, it seemed that Snape had different intentions. He had shed his mask and entered the battlefield, swiftly eliminating any Death Eater who threatened the students or Hogwarts.
As Lyra watched Snape from afar, their eyes locked across the battlefield. Both of them were coated in sweat, dirt, and blood—both their own and that of others.
Suddenly, Lyra felt a tug at her robes. Frowning, she remembered the Horcruxes she had stashed there. She cursed herself for bringing them into such a dangerous situation, but they had remained dormant for so long. Why were they suddenly active? Before she could find an answer, a sense of foreboding spread through the crowd as a shadowy figure materialized before Albus and Harry.
"You shouldn't have come here, Tom...not tonight!" Dumbledore's voice rang out, calm and unwavering.
"Tonight, we shall end this...tonight...I shall get what I deserve...what I have come for! This boy will die!" Voldemort snarled, his hand raised menacingly toward Harry, unleashing invisible magic at him. However, nothing happened.
"Just a small hiccup in your plan, Tom...we may not be willing to let you!" Albus responded, his voice tinged with amusement. He positioned himself protectively in front of Harry, while Sirius quickly pulled the boy to safety. Lyra observed her father engaging in a fierce battle with the dark lord. Albus's power was immense, possibly rivaling Tessra's. For the first time, in those two years of knowing him, Lyra realized why he was a living legend. It seemed foolish that people called her the American Dumbledore; there was no way she could have ever matched his skills and techniques. Every spell and curse that flew from his wand became a valuable lesson for her. She wondered if he would consider teaching her someday.
"Bring me the boy!" Voldemort snarled, his death eaters obediently advancing toward Sirius.
Sirius began dueling against them with skill and precision. Years in Azkaban hadn't diminished his prowess; in fact, Lyra could see that his dueling capabilities were as sharp as any auror's.
Harry also fired spells at the death eaters to assist his godfather. A flash of green light shot toward Sirius and Harry, but it narrowly missed. With the protective enchantment around the castle weakened, Snape had seized the opportunity to apparate them a safe distance away. However, this act did not go unnoticed by Voldemort.
Lyra watched as Voldemort realized Snape's betrayal while Albus continued to duel him. Voldemort's fury created a force field that sent Albus flying. Voldemort then apparated toward the trio, fixing his gaze on Snape. He cast a Cruciatus curse that struck Snape square in the chest. Snape wasn't going to be killed so easily; Voldemort intended to torture him first, allowing Nagini to devour him, and only when he begged for mercy, as that mudblood of his once had, would Voldemort finally kill him. Severus fell back, writhing in agonizing pain, this particular curse delivering torment unlike any he had experienced before.
"TRAITOR!" Voldemort hissed, his wand ready to deliver the final blow. Panic gripped Lyra as he brandished his wand in a motion that she recognized all too well. Her heart leaped into her throat, and she knew she had to act swiftly. Leaving Tessra's side, she sprinted forward, her eyes locked onto Voldemort. Through Voldemort's mouth, a massive inferno snake erupted, hurtling toward Sirius, Harry, and Severus.
"Holy Merlin's fucking shite!" Sirius exclaimed in alarm as the fiery serpent descended upon them.
Severus, weak and in pain, managed to push both Harry and Sirius out of harm's way but stumbled in the process, collapsing to the ground. He closed his eyes and turned his head, accepting his imminent fate. However, the deadly fiendfyre never reached him.
Startled, Severus opened his eyes to witness an astonishing display of magic. It was Lyra, her hands scorched by the fiendfyre, burns marking her skin, who was holding the serpentine inferno at bay with just her bare hands.
Severus watched in awe as the witch defied the unstoppable magic, her determination and power on full display.
Lyra screamed. She felt herself losing control of the inferno as the fiendfyre pushed toward her further. Her boots were quickly losing grip. It took all her strength and magic to hold the inferno back and away from him. The source of the fire was too powerful, and she didn't know how long she would be able to hold it back.
She turned her head to look at him, and he looked at her. Their eyes met, and for seconds, all they could do was gaze at each other, a series of emotions flashing through both their faces. Perhaps for the last time in their lives. He mouthed her name, and that was all he could do before she cried out in extreme pain. The inferno was forcing her down to her knees.
Severus didn't know how to react. He didn't know how to make it stop. She had just stood between him and his death. She was holding back a fiendfyre at the risk of her life, just so that she could save him. Him, who she had pushed away for months, refused to acknowledge...HIM! Severus just stood there, looking at her as she fell to her knees, her boots giving way. The inferno moved ahead, and he moved toward her without a second thought. They never broke eye contact.
She finally spoke.
"RR...RR…RUN!" She cried out painfully. Severus shook his head and moved toward her, but her horrifying scream made him think twice. If she couldn't hold it back, her efforts would be in vain. It would all be in vain if he didn't get away. He apparated to where Minerva stood. The very next second, the inferno serpent dived into Lyra, burning her alive.
"LYRA!"
Severus heard Minerva screaming her daughter's name in agony. He pulled her into his arms, holding her back from running over to her daughter's side, as they watched the fiendfyre consume Lyra in a storm of fire, retaining its serpent form. Albus had been too shocked to react, as he watched what had just happened.
Minerva shot several curses at Voldemort, who deflected them as if they were pesky flies. He laughed maliciously at the woman's grief while Severus held her back. Turning the serpent toward where Minerva and Severus stood, he spat curses toward them, but the snake did not move.
Voldemort's face fell in surprise as the snake did not budge. He brandished his wand at the large basilisk, commanding it to listen to his order, but the snake just stood there, burning heavily. Then it turned toward him. Voldemort took a step back, unsure of what was happening. The snake grew bigger and bigger until it burst into multiple small flames that rushed towards every Death Eater, setting them alight. Most caught fire in an instant, and they fled in panic toward the Black Lake.
"NO!" Voldemort screamed, commanding them not to be such cowards.
"It's over…" She said, as she stood, streaks of fire dancing around her, creating a protective shield.
Voldemort turned to look at her, taking a step toward her, but he faltered. He could not understand why he felt such weakness. Her robes were burnt, or still burning in various places. She was matted in sweat and blood, her body still steaming from the fiendfyre, her auburn hair glowed as the flames danced around her.
Lyra walked painfully toward him, her flames dying as she held her chest, in pain from draining herself of magic. However, she held her wand pointed squarely at him as she recovered a bag from her burnt-out cloak pocket.
She laughed softly at her luck, thanking her stars for drinking that bottle of Felix Felicis. She emptied the contents as the now destroyed and melted Horcruxes fell to the ground.
"It's over…you destroyed them yourself. You taught me a valuable lesson when I fought a fragment of your soul. When you created a reflection of me trying to destroy myself…I realized, we don't have the power to control our end…but only we can be the true bearers of our destinies. And THIS! THIS is YOUR destiny!" Lyra said in pain, a defiant, arrogant smirk on her face.
Voldemort raised his wand to shoot a killing curse at her. His hand, however, was pulled down by a vine. Tessra was controlling the element of earth as roots flew through the ground, wrapping themselves around him.
However, he wasn't going to give in so easily. He tore through the roots and apparated, reappearing right next to Harry. Before Sirius had time to pull Harry behind him, Voldemort shot a killing curse at the boy.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Harry, quick on his feet, retaliated like he normally did.
"Expelliarmus!"
Green met red as Harry struggled to control his spell.
The entire assembly of people on the grounds, now including members of the British Ministry of Magic who had been non-believers, watched as the wands connected.
The entirety of Dumbledore's Army, who had been fighting on the grounds, rushed over to their leader. Hermione was the first to add a burst of red to the union, with Ron following suit. The others joined in, and Harry's spell grew stronger and stronger as Voldemort lost control of his wand. It backfired as the killing curse that was meant for Harry hit Voldemort squarely in the heart.
The snake-like man who had haunted Harry Potter's life stumbled, looking at them. His eyes glazed over, and he fell to the ground, now lifeless.
Silence overtook the entire grounds as Albus quickly began reinforcing the barriers around the castle, ensuring that none of the Death Eaters would escape.
The war was over. Harry had won. The dark lord who had been so obsessed with beating death now lay lifeless on the floor, killed by his own spell.
Hermione and Ron hugged Harry as tightly as they could. The three of them fell to the ground.
Tessra and Demetrius were the first ones to walk over to the Dark Lord's body, their wands still held tightly, making sure this was truly the end. Tessra shot red sparks into the sky, unable to contain her happiness. A year of trying to end this madness had finally borne fruit. Demetrius smiled at her as they walked over to Lyra, who was lying on the ground, held by Minerva as Dumbledore sat next to her.
"You have done well..." Tessra spoke gently as she sat down next to Minerva, holding Lyra's hand. Lyra smiled at her painfully.
"My ring…" Lyra said, showing Tessra the ring of fire, now in two pieces.
"We'll get you another one, a more powerful one!" Tessra reassured her.
"You have mastered an element beyond what our expertise would allow..." Demetrius added thoughtfully as Tessra handed him the broken ring.
Lyra sighed, looking up at Minerva and Albus. Her mother was gently stroking her hair, and her father was watching over them. But the pain in her chest had returned, and it didn't subside as it had when she had ended the Horcrux inside Harry. It was unbearable, and it remained. It seemed there was still one emotion Lyra had yet to master to gain complete control over her fire—an emotion she had used to protect him.
AN/- Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks for sticking by Lyra and me! Last chapter coming soon :)