The weeks went by and spring changed to summer. The magical world was relatively quiet, though it was the stunned quiet of trying to recover from a devastating blow rather than the contended quiet of peacefulness. Diagon Alley and Carkitt Market were almost deserted, as many of the shops had relocated to Hogsmeade, but in Horizont Alley business was still thriving. The muggleborn shopkeepers and patrons were not as devastated by the loss of the Ministry as the others – some, in fact, were secretly thrilled at its destruction. Serves the bastards right, thought many of them, though they were careful to keep their thoughts to themselves, especially when around the pureblood crowd.
Those with closer ties to the traditional magical world were a lot more worried. Their world had suffered a series of devastating blows over the course of the previous year, which lowered their confidence and enthusiasm for the future. The lack of confidence led to less coin being spent, as people did not want to waste what resources they had, which in turn caused the economy to start declining. The destruction of the Ministry further exacerbated the problem as quite a few of their employees no longer had work. The records were destroyed, taxes were unable to be collected, yet another minister was dead, and between the various assassinations the Wizengamot no longer had enough members for a quorum, on top of having no place to meet.
Hogsmeade was bustling, though it was far from a happy place. Most of the relocated shops had small flats on the upper levels, resulting in many families relocating to the village. Apparently many thought there would be safety in numbers, so others moved to the village as well. Soon every home and shop was filled, and more people kept trying to come in. Houses could not be built fast enough on the outskirts of the village, so many of the newcomers (especially those with families) began pitching magical tents. There was soon a tent city on the south side, sloping up with the mountain range behind the village.
As their department head was also missing and presumed dead, and there was no infrastructure in place to appoint another through regular channels, Shacklebolt and Robards stepped up and organised the auror department. Relocating to Hogsmeade and, with Madam Rosmerta's permission, using the Three Broomsticks as a temporary headquarters, they began establishing patrols of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, along with guard duty at St Mungo's. They all knew this was temporary, though, because with no records and no tax revenue they were unable to be paid. Still, at the moment the aurors were the only Ministry employees who were still solvent.
Unfortunately, no one besides Dumbledore appeared willing or able to step up and start getting things back on track for the magical world. Though he volunteered his services, his poor health had taken a toll on him and he looked to be but a shell of the formidable wizard he was before. The public had their doubts regarding his capabilities, and when the aurors refused to acknowledge his authority in any way his push for a leadership position failed – in spite of a full endorsement by the Daily Prophet.
This rejection of course infuriated him. The resulting public meltdown only solidified the opinions of those who had refused to accept him as their leader.
With three ministers getting killed in a matter of months, rumours abounded that the position was cursed. Most people seemed to be a little sceptical of that possibility, at least on the surface, but no one wanted to test whether it was true or not.
At last Hogwarts released the students for the summer holidays. As usual, they took the Hogwarts Express back to King's Cross Station (though many began to question the wisdom of doing so considering the growing shift away from London as the hub of magical society to Hogsmeade, located just a short walk from the school) where they met concerned and worried parents. Most of the students were immediately whisked away to their homes all across the British Isles, with a much larger than usual contingent flooing or apparating right back to Hogsmeade.
Most of the Hogwarts staff left soon after the students, not wanting to remain in the presence of Dumbledore any longer than they had to. His obsession with finding Harry Potter had resulted in him pushing even more of his workload onto his staff than he did while holding three full-time jobs. Even Hagrid, his staunchest supporter, was disgruntled at his behaviour, while most of the rest of the staff was furious with him. The only one who still supported him to any extent was Snape, who was bound by certain oaths, but even he was not exactly enthusiastic in his support.
With everyone gone, Dumbledore threw all his time back into trying to pin down Harry's location, not that he had any more success than he'd ever had. Each scrying attempt came back negative, and he would rest for a little while and then try again. He was nothing if not determined and relentless, though his sanity was increasingly in doubt – or would have been if there was anyone that was close enough to actually observe.
At Harry's request, Dobby was only too happy to go sneaking around on Hogwarts grounds, making sure who was still there and who was not. He confirmed that most of the staff had left for the summer, leaving only Hagrid (who stayed in his hut by the Forbidden Forest when he wasn't getting drunk at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade), Professor Trelawney (who stayed in a drunken stupor in her quarters in the Divination Tower, rarely coming down to the Great Hall for food), Caretaker Filch (who was just as ornery as ever), Professor Snape (who also was just as ornery as ever), and Headmaster Dumbledore (who was slowly killing himself by not giving himself sufficient time to fully recover between scrying attempts).
And so it was one evening soon after the students returned home from Hogwarts that Harry gathered the elves along with Hedwig and Freki in the sitting room downstairs. The gas lamps around the room were all lit, dispelling some of the oppressive atmosphere. It was still sombre though, a perfect reflection of his mood. He looked around at those he had come to see as friends and gave them all a slight but warm smile.
The elves all wore uniforms instead of the pillowcases, tea cozies, and whatnot that the majority of magic-users condescendingly forced their bound servants to wear. Harry had explained to the three that he found such "attire" to be demeaning and insulting, not to mention being a disgusting reflection of the quality of person who would force a sentient being to wear such. Each of the three had come from different backgrounds that were nonetheless as wretched as the other two in their own rights. Lucius Malfoy, Barty Crouch Senior, and Dolores Umbridge were all cruel taskmasters to those they deemed their inferiors – even if Crouch hadn't been as sadistic as the other two, he'd dismissed Winky from his service with nary a second thought even after it was pointed out that elves cannot use wands and therefore she had not been able to cast the Dark Mark at the dustup after the Quidditch World Cup almost four years ago.
Dobby's enthusiasm for serving him had not abated, though officially bonding with him did settle him down a bit. Winky had taken on a bit of a mothering role, always making sure that his clothes were clean and he had plenty to eat. Her disapproval as she handed him a hangover potion one morning after a particularly rough evening of missing Hermione was so pronounced that he had not drunk himself into a stupor since – in fact he did not touch anything stronger than an occasional small glass of wine with dinner. Bipsy was still more shy than the other two but enjoyed helping Winky take care of the Black townhome. She looked much healthier too after he rescued her from Umbridge.
His gaze shifted to Hedwig where she perched on the back of the armchair off to his right. She was his oldest friend and he suspected that somewhere along their path together they had actually established a familiar bond. The beautiful snowy owl seemed to know what he was thinking and feeling, just as he seemed to understand her in return. She had apparently joined forces with Winky in making sure that he was taking care of himself properly.
The massive dire wolf Freki was as aloof as ever, though he was as much a part of the group as anyone else. He occasionally had gone on Harry's missions, even saving his life on more than one occasion, but most importantly was a constant reminder that the young man had found favour with Odin Allfather. He was never too far from Harry's side here at the townhome, and even now moved his great head closer for the wizard to rub his ears.
"My friends," Harry said, looking again at each one in turn. "Thank you all for helping me through this past year. I don't mind saying it's been a difficult time."
"You'se beings the bestest master, Master Harry," Dobby quietly interjected. The other two elves nodded their agreement. "It's no beings a chore to beings your elfsie, not like bad old masters."
"I appreciate that, and I appreciate you," Harry said. "You all know I've been fighting against Voldemort, his dark wizards, and even the magical government itself." The elves nodded without saying anything as the animals looked on. "I've won against the forces of darkness," he continued. "Magical Britain is destabilised, and I've arranged for the Queen to bring the magic-users back under her authority if she so chooses. I know that I will never be welcomed back into magical society though. And I'm okay with that. The problem is Albus Dumbledore."
Dobby raised a hesitant hand. "Perfessor Whiskers is no beings so light as he wants us all to be's thinking, Dobby be's thinking."
Harry nodded. "Exactly, Dobs. It is clear to me that Dumbledore will never let me live my own life, such as it is. He will keep coming after me to bring me back under his control, and he will not stop until one or both of us is dead." There, he'd said it out loud. He'd thought it many times, but speaking it aloud for the first time gave it an air of finality.
The elves looked at him mournfully but did not dispute his words. Hedwig nodded and fluffed her feathers, and Freki growled in agreement.
"Tomorrow I'm going to Hogwarts and have it out with the old man once and for all," he went on.
"Will… will you be's coming back to us?" Dobby asked worriedly.
"I don't know," he sighed. "We know he's sick and weakened, and we know that I've been blessed with gifts from the Allfather himself. But he also has the Elder Wand, which has never been beaten in battle, and he has decades of experience and knowledge. I don't know how well I can stand against him. But it has to be done. I'll never know peace otherwise."
The elves all looked sad, and Dobby looked about ready to start weeping any moment. Winky reached out and took the other elves' hands in her own. "We's being understanding," she said, her voice low. "Good master has to be's doing what he has to."
He nodded. "I don't want you three to ever suffer under an unworthy master ever again," he told them. "I've made arrangements for if I fall in this battle. The Potter estate will pass on to Remus Lupin, and the Black estate will pass on to Dora Tonks. The three of you will need to choose who you want to live with as free elves – I've included that stipulation in my will, and it doesn't have to be either of them if you don't want. I've also made it clear that you all no longer require bonding with a master. That being said, they're the only people I can currently think of who I believe I can trust with my estates, and I believe they will do right by you as well."
The three elves looked at each other, then hopped off the sofa and walked over towards Harry. Discerning their intent, he moved off of his sofa and knelt before them, his arms open wide. He gathered the three diminutive beings together in a tight hug and just held them close. "You've been the three best friends a bloke could ever have," he whispered.
Dobby looked up, a forlorn expression on his face. "You's planning on not coming back at all," he said.
Harry started, then reluctantly nodded. "I'm weary to the bone, Dobs," he explained. "I've had the weight of the world on my shoulders ever since I rejoined the magical world. Everyone had their own expectations of me, or wanted to kill me, or wanted to kiss my arse, but nobody except Hermione ever saw me as just Harry. True, the lot of you saw me as Master Harry, but at least you had no expectations of me. I'm ready to lay it all down and just be done with it. No more abuse, no more manipulations, no more slander or libel. I want to go somewhere they've never heard of me and just live out the rest of my life. As far as the magical world is concerned, the Potter line ends with me. I just want to make sure you're taken care of, same as Remus and Dora."
The three elves just held him tight, not liking what he had to say but understanding it nonetheless. "So this be's goodbye then?" Bipsy asked.
"Yes, little one," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, of course, but this should be our real farewell."
"Dobby be's wishing he can come too," the sole male elf sniffled.
"I know, my friend," Harry replied. "I'd love for you to come with me too. You belong here, though. You still need magic to live – the nonmagical world will not be good for you. I'll rest better knowing that you're in good hands with Remus and Dora."
Dobby nodded, though his heart wasn't in it.
"Thank you all for everything you've helped me with this year. I couldn't have survived without you." Giving the elves one last squeeze, Harry got to his feet and walked over to Hedwig. "You were my first friend who truly understood me," he told her, stroking the feathers under her beak. "You know what the Dursleys were like. You alone helped me get through those wretched summers, girl. I wish you could stay with Remus and Dora too, for your own safety. But you're my familiar, which means you have to go where I go. I don't want you anywhere near the castle tomorrow, though. You'll know if I don't make it, and if that happens I'd like you to go to one of them, whichever you prefer. If I survive, I'll call for you. Okay?"
The snowy owl gazed at him with her wide, amber eyes before giving him a soft prek and butting her head up against his hand as if to say, "you'd better call for me."
He finally turned to the wolf. "I don't know how much longer you're allowed to stay with me," he said. "I appreciate all you've done as well, and I'm thankful the Allfather allowed you to help me. It's almost over though, I think. I'm sure you're looking forward to returning to his side."
Freki simply inclined his head and continued looking at him.
Harry reached out and scratched the wolf behind the ears before turning back to the elves. "I'm going to put the house on lockdown when I leave tomorrow. I'd like for you to keep it maintained and clean for whenever Dora Tonks comes by to take possession of it. I don't imagine it will be long before she does so. The fidelius and other wards will pass to her at the reading of my will, but until then no one is to enter in – especially Dumbledore and his lot. You are authorised to use whatever means necessary to keep them out, up to and including lethal. But above all you must keep yourselves safe, understood?" The elves nodded solemnly. "Good. I'm going to do a final walkthrough tonight, then get ready for tomorrow. Let me know if you need anything else."
The young wizard left the sitting room and entered the kitchen as the elves popped off to do whatever they felt they needed to. The chiller, ice box, and pantry were filled with various foodstuffs and drinks, enough to last a couple of people up to a month before the stocks needed replenishing. The coal-fired oven with gas stovetop was immaculately cleaned (as was typical with house elf work), as were the wooden countertops. All the bone china dishware was stacked neatly on the shelves, along with the cut crystal glassware. The large mahogany table held a fresh floral arrangement in the centre, along with full place settings for each seat, including stacked china plates, crystal stemware, and silver flatware on linen placemats with matching napkins.
He reached out and caressed the crest rail on the back of the chair where Hermione used to sit. How many times during those weeks at the end of summer had they all sat there, eating dinner, doing homework, or just talking? He felt a wave of melancholia sweep over him, tempered by the memory of being with her in that dream beyond a dream. "Miss you, love," he whispered.
I know. I miss you too. We'll be together again, though.
He smiled through the ache, knowing it was so. Leaving the kitchen, he passed back through the sitting room to the staircase leading up to the first floor. The well-lit potions laboratory at the top of the stairs was as clean as the kitchen. All the apparatus and ingredients he'd used this year were thoroughly scrubbed, polished, sorted, and/or stored. He went in and drew the draperies closed before extinguishing the gas lamp and leaving. The bedrooms and bathrooms down the hall were also cleaned, straightened up, and seemingly waiting for someone to move in.
Upstairs, the library had been straightened up, and all hidden traps had been disabled and removed. The books too dangerous for the untrained reader to so much as touch had been carefully placed in a glass-door bookcase that locked with a small iron key enchanted to be forever free of rust. That key was kept in a drawer of the desk in the study next to the library, accessible only to the master or mistress of the house. A low-backed couch was pushed underneath the large window at the back of the library, allowing the person sitting there during the daytime to enjoy ample natural light to read by. Gas lamps framed the window, far enough away from the draperies to ensure they would not catch fire, but more than sufficient to provide light in the nighttime to read by.
I miss that couch too, he heard Hermione laugh.
Making sure the draperies were closed, he shut the gas off in here too before looking in on the study.
He still didn't feel comfortable spending much time in here, even if Sirius had left it to him. The magic imbued in the room recognised him, of course, but he did not feel like he was the legitimate Lord Black. Hanging on the wall behind the mahogany desk was a tapestry featuring the Black family coat of arms, and across from the door hung a life-sized portrait of a stern, unfriendly looking fellow in sombre but well-cut attire. He couldn't remember the man's name, but Sirius had told him that this was the Black ancestor who built the family's fortune importing rum, gold, furs, tobacco, rare magical components, and slaves from the Americas in the late 1600s. A sideboard sat underneath the portrait and held several decanters of expensive cognac, cut crystal stemware, and a walnut humidor lined with Spanish cedar. A small bookcase with glass doors rested against the wall opposite the desk and contained a dozen or so books, including the Black family grimoire and the ward ledger of the townhome. In the corner between the bookcase and the portrait stood a suit of 16th century English armour.
He left a letter for Dora on the desktop and another for Remus before turning off the lamps and locking the door behind him. He'd send Hedwig to Gringotts in the morning with all the Black keys – vault, townhome, study, library, and bookcases.
The other bedrooms and bathrooms were clean and tidy, ready for someone to move in. Even the master bedroom was mostly straightened up. A small backpack held most of his meagre belongings, and his armour and weapons were laid out and ready to don when he was ready to leave tomorrow. He knelt down at the side of his bed and focused on the upcoming fight. "Give me strength and courage," he whispered aloud. "Help me bring this battle to a close and break the stranglehold over the people."
He felt the comforting presence of Hermione as he stood and undressed for his last sleep in this house. His dreams that night centred on her and the love they shared.
***EoD***
He awoke the next morning feeling both refreshed and resolute, and surprisingly calm. This was it – today would see the end of his quest, one way or the other. It was also his intent to activate his will even if he survived. Magical Britain would never be able to tolerate his presence if the Queen activated the appropriate clauses and dissolved the Magna Carta Magicae for cause, and that was fine with him. He had no interest in rejoining society – part of him rather hoped that this battle would cost him his life, but not unless he brought down Dumbledore as well.
Winky and Bipsy provided an amazing breakfast for him, which he thoroughly enjoyed despite the mournful demeanour of the elves as they served him. After thanking them profusely he returned to his bedroom and donned his armour before strapping on his axe and wand holster. He stowed his wand in the holster, picked up his pack and slung it over his shoulder, and took up his staff. He looked around the room one final time before leaving and going back downstairs.
The three house elves stood waiting in the sitting room along with Hedwig and Freki. "This is it, my friends," he said as he knelt before them. He dropped his pack and staff, gathering them all up in one last embrace. "For good or ill, it ends today." He picked up the pack and handed it to Dobby. "If I survive, I'll call for you to bring this to me, Dobs," he said. "If I don't call for you, please give this to Remus after the will reading, okay?"
The elf nodded sadly. "Dobby will be's doing this," he said. "Dobby be's thinking Master Harry will be's calling for him, though."
Harry's mouth curled into a small but genuine smile. "Thank you, my friend," he replied. "Your confidence warms my heart."
Dobby smiled back at his young master and slung the pack over his shoulder.
Harry picked up his staff as he stood and walked over to Hedwig, giving her an affectionate rub under her beak. "I'll call for you later, my girl," he said. She give his finger a gentle nip as he leaned over and kissed the top of her head.
He walked to the front door and took one last look around at the foyer. Freki moved to his side, giving him an expectant look. "You're coming with me then?" he asked as he stroked the wolf behind the ears. "Thank you. I appreciate your company." He took a deep breath. "Okay, let's do this."
He closed his eyes and shifted, leaving 12 Grimmauld Place for the last time.
***EoD***
Harry appeared just outside the front gates of Hogwarts, the vast rolling lawn on the other side receding into the distance until it met the outer walls of the castle. Trees and shrubberies dotted the lawn between the front gates and the castle, and the wide gravel path leading up to the front courtyard shone almost white against the lush green grass on either side. In the distance to the left through the gate he could see the edge of the Forbidden Forest approach the outer wall of the campus, and to the right the school's quidditch pitch rose above the trees. Far off in the distance behind the stadium he could see the glistening of the morning sun's rays play across the surface of the Black Lake.
Behind him, the path curved around a small hill, beyond which rose another that bore the decrepit Shrieking Shack at its crest. Though blocked from view, he knew that the pathway meandered through the foothills until it reached the village of Hogsmeade. He knew well the status of the now-overcrowded and unhappy community, thanks to the detailed reports of his elves, and as such had no intention of approaching it if he had no need.
Before continuing, he examined the wards of the school with his magesight and immediately shook his head in disgust. Given the number of ley lines that converged underneath the Hogwarts seal in the great hall, the wards should have been some of the most comprehensive and secure in the entire magical realm, but from what he could see they were a mishmash of layers built up over the centuries by headmasters that were not particularly skilled in the art of ward building. He suspected that the wards initially were a true work of art and really had no need to be tampered with, but if Albus Dumbledore was one to judge by, none of the former headmasters could resist meddling where they shouldn't have been.
With his divine capabilities bestowed upon him through his adoption, sliding through the layers without triggering an alert was child's play.
Once on the other side of the gate, Freki padding along at his side, he slowly made his way up the path, his staff crunching on the gravel with every other step. A cool morning breeze drifted past from the direction of the lake, ruffling his hair and the fur on the wolf's back. The grounds were the quietest he'd ever seen, the silence broken only by leaves rustling in the breeze or the singing of various birds. All in all it was the most pleasant morning he'd seen in a long time, a sharp contrast to the struggle he knew was about to begin.
As the castle drew closer, his focus shifted to the upcoming battle. His command over the ancient runes would be invaluable, but he also suspected that he'd need every bit of his magic as well. He knew that he'd been lucky in his fight with Riddle, especially when the dark lord had attempted to use truename magic on him, and he could not count on Dumbledore doing the same. The old man was certainly the wiliest person he'd ever known, so he would have to be on guard. Fortunately, his mind was closed off to any legilimancy attacks, which would give him a slight edge in the fight.
All too soon he passed into the courtyard before the entrance hall. His staff tapped on the flagstones as he approached the front doors, echoing softly in the morning calm. Reaching the doors, he gently pushed them open, suppressing the wards and monitoring charms attached to them as he did so. The young man and the wolf proceeded inside, closing the doors behind them.
Harry could tell that the wards had not alerted to his presence, but he knew that would soon change. He crossed the darkened entrance hall to where the large oaken doors to the great hall stood open. Inside the hall he could see the four empty house tables and the dais at the far end where the staff table stood. The ceiling overhead reflected the clear summer day outside, but the myriad candles that floated in the air above the tables during the school term were gone. The banner above the staff table bore the seal of Hogwarts, showing each of the houses' signature animal against the appropriate background colour. In the centre of the great hall, inlaid into the flagstones, was a bronze relief of the same seal. This was the actual seal placed above the convergence of the ley lines that powered the school's magic.
He approached the bronze seal and stood over it before visualising the aegishjalmur runic array just as he had in his recent foray into the Department of Mysteries. As there was not an Unspeakable trying to murder him this time, he took the extra time to envision three more runes – algiz for protection; sowulo for strength, positive energy, consciousness, and persistent activity; and tiwaz for the impending struggle, the manifestation of the warrior, and for justice. He copied the runes twice, forming a repeating ring around the array: three runes, three times each. The number was chosen deliberately for its divine attributes of time and nature. Past, present, future. Beginning, middle, end. Birth, life, death.
Moving the visualised array through the air, he laid it down across the seal. Focusing his energies, both arcane and divine, he drove a spike of pure force through the centre and down into the wardstone at the convergence of the ley lines deep beneath the castle.
***EoD***
Albus Dumbledore sat hunched over his desk, preparing once more to scry for the elusive Harry Potter. He'd barely gotten three hours of sleep the previous night, and today's breakfast lay to the side largely untouched. He reached out a withered hand to the scrying crystal and prepared to incant the words that would hopefully break through whatever shields surrounded the infuriating boy.
Before he could so much as open his mouth, a burst of agony pierced through his head and down to his heart, seemingly to his very soul. It took a moment to recover before he was able to collect his thoughts enough to realise what had happened. He immediately leapt to his feet, ignoring the aches and pains, grabbed his wand, and summoned his patronus. "Severus," he said, his voice raw, "meet me in the great hall immediately." He coughed into his sleeve, ignoring yet again the bloody phlegm that spattered his arm. He vanished the mess without a thought and left his office.
***EoD***
Harry sealed off the protective runic array to everything but himself, rendering it untouchable to anyone else. The only downside was that he had limited range of movement and was effectively tethered to the immediate area, though he had enough range of movement to dodge anything flung his way. He figured that Dumbledore at least would be down here any minute after disrupting the wards like he'd done, giving him little time to prepare the hall for the fight. Fortunately, little had to be done.
Using a wall of force, he shoved the long tables and benches away from him and up against the sides of the hall. After that he cast a series of bludgeoning curses at the flagstones between him and the entry, shattering the floor and providing rubble for him to utilise later.
He took one last look around and nodded, satisfied with the few preparations he'd done. He leaned against his staff and waited patiently for the headmaster's arrival.
***EoD***
Severus Snape stalked up from his quarters in the dungeon to the entrance hall where the great staircase rose for storeys above him, the stairs periodically shifting their positions. "Meet me in the great hall immediately," he muttered under his breath. "Of course I have to hurry, while you're likely taking your precious time, I shouldn't wonder." He swept his hawk-like gaze around the hall, and much to his complete lack of surprise the headmaster was nowhere to be seen. Grumbling to himself, he swept into the great hall – and froze.
An all-too-familiar shock of messy black hair and piercing green eyes stood facing him, leaning insolently on a walking stick of all things. Recognition was instant and the red mist descended. "Potter!" he snapped. "I should have realised you were involved, you…"
"Oh for fuck's sake, Snivellus, go put a sock in your gob."
Snape's eyes nearly popped out of his head in rage. He found his wand in his hand and rising to punish the brat before he was quite aware of what he was doing. "Sectum…"
He froze as a powerful vice clamped down around his wrist and nearly shat himself when he looked over and saw an enormous dire wolf clenching his wand arm in its jaws. "Potter," he growled, "if you don't get this animal off me this instant, I swear you will pay for the rest of your short and pathetic life."
"Seriously?" the boy replied, not moving from his spot. "You are outclassed and you presume to give me orders? You really are insane, aren't you?"
"Now, Potter!"
The young man shook his head. "Go ahead, Freki."
The wolf bit down hard, snapping the bones in Snape's forearm. Before the potion master had time to scream, the massive animal jerked his head and tore the hand and forearm off a few inches below the elbow.
Snape looked down in horror at the blood spurting from the mangled stump of his arm as the great wolf spat the ruined appendage from his maw. The cry of dawning realisation began deep in his throat and quickly crescendoed into a wail of anguish and loss.
All of a sudden, he felt himself leave the flagstone floor of the great hall and hurtle backwards, slamming into the wall not far from the doors. He looked up at his young nemesis who still leaned on that staff without an apparent care in the world. "You needn't worry," the brat said. "You won't have to find out how a potion master with only one arm can maintain his craft."
With those words, he felt himself sinking into the stones at his back as if they were made of nought but pudding. How could this possibly be? He truly believed that the hated spawn of James Potter was nothing more than a spoiled, arrogant little shit whose capabilities in the arcane arts were mediocre at best. He refused to acknowledge the possibility that his unbridled hatred of James Potter had blinded him to the true capabilities of the son of his enemy – and yet he knew of no spell that could manipulate solid stone as if it were putty, not to mention the fact that he had heard no incantation nor had he seen the slightest gesture of a wand. Everything about the situation contradicted what he believed to be irrefutable truth.
The stone flowed around him like liquid, drawing him deep into its concrete embrace. He could feel it constrict around the ragged stump of his arm and felt a wave of despair pass through his body as he realised that he would not have the luxury of quietly bleeding out. The wall sucked him in deeper and enclosed around him, sealing his legs, torso, and arms behind its unmarred surface. It flowed up under his jaw and pressed down on his scalp, forcing his jaws closed, before covering his mouth and cheeks. The stone pressed up to the base of his septum, giving him the barest room to breath through his nose. The part covering his cheekbones flowed down against his face, pulling the flesh and skin with it just enough to force his lower eyelids down. At the same time the part covering his eyebrows and forehead flowed up, forcing his upper eyelids open as well. He was encased in the wall so tightly that he found it quite impossible to so much as blink. All he could do was move his eyeballs around somewhat and breathe, though even that was a trial as the stone compressing his torso did not allow him to take more than a shallow breath at a time.
There was no way this could be happening. He couldn't accept that the brat was this powerful. He seethed in impotent fury, trying his best to murder the little shit with his gaze. Someone powerful must be assisting him unseen, he decided. That was the only thing that made sense. Obviously he cheated somehow.
His personal conclusion as to the reason why he was now entrapped had absolutely no bearing on his situation whatsoever.
The door to the great hall creaked open once more and Albus Dumbledore stepped inside, resplendent in his scarlet and purple robe with golden phases of the moon embroidered at the hems. "Ah, Harry, my boy," he said, his tone jovial. "So good of you to return home. I look forward to completing your training."
Harry snorted. "Like that's ever going to happen, old man," he muttered.
Still playing the kindly grandfather role, he looked around. He took note of the dire wolf sitting on its haunches off to the side between him and the boy but made no visible sign that he was at all concerned about its presence, other than discreetly readying his wand. "I say, have you seen Severus?"
Harry's mouth quirked up in the barest smile. "I'm sure he's around somewhere."
The man in question tried to make as much noise through his nose as he could, but the headmaster did not turn around. He was forced to conclude that he had been silenced as well as entombed.
"Well, no matter." Dumbledore's benign expression did not betray his concern for the missing potion master. "Moving on, I have a special room prepared for you near my office. You will no longer be spending your time in classes with the rest of the students as you will be too busy with the specialised training I have prepared for you. You are to be my apprentice and will one day take my place when it is time for me to embark upon my own last great adventure."
The young wizard laughed. "I will no longer be spending time with the rest of the students because I will no longer be here, old man. I'd rather die than be your fucking apprentice."
The headmaster inhaled sharply. "My boy, you have strayed far from the path of the light," he pleaded. "There may yet be time to change your course, but only if you place yourself under my authority."
"So you can continue to help yourself to my vaults, you goddamn thief? I don't think so. You can go to hell."
The old man was furious, but he couldn't afford to show his true feelings. "Harry, your country needs you," he tried again. "Voldemort…"
"Is dead. And I'm done. Magical Britain can go to hell too. I thought the letter I left with Fudge and the Umbitch made that abundantly clear."
Dumbledore shook his head. "Voldemort is sure to return, my boy. I fear you're on a dangerous, even deadly path. Come back to the light," he begged. "You've done the unforgivable – you've wilfully taken lives. Yet even this may be atoned for, so long as you truly repent and come back into the fold." His control over his rage was wavering. Damn the stubborn brat!
"Never," Harry growled. "What you fail to understand, headmaster, is that you have done far more harm to me than Voldemort ever did. Don't you dare speak to me of dark and light. You lost that right the moment you incarcerated me with the fucking Dursleys, to say nothing of you pillaging my vaults. I'll be damned if I ever put myself under your control again. Your behaviour towards me has never been light, you son of a bitch. So I can assure you, whatever side you're on, I will oppose with everything I am." He adjusted his grip on the staff, preparing himself for the inevitable combat.
Dumbledore's anger could no longer by held at bay. "I did not bend prophecy to bring down one dark lord only for another to rise in his stead!" he bellowed.
The young man gave him a cold smile. "I am no dark lord," he said. "I have no wish to rule magical Britain or anything else. My sole desire is to burn it down."
"Then on your head be it!" the headmaster roared. He whipped his hand up, brandishing the Elder wand. "Reducto!"
The light blue ball of energy zipped through the air only for Harry to lean aside, letting it sail past. It flew down the length of the great hall and impacted the head table, exploding in a burst of glowing blue energy and wood splinters. The force of the blast caused the table to crack at the point of impact, knocking it back and breaking it in half, sending candlesticks and empty dishes flying.
Freki charged the old man, teeth bared in a growl. Dumbledore did not know who the wolf actually was, but he could tell that it was not native to this plane of existence. He quickly cast an obscure piece of magic designed to banish demons back to their home plane. The dark red spell struck Freki in the chest even as the wolf lunged towards Dumbledore's throat. The wolf seemed to flicker for a second before he disappeared with a pop.
"You will face me yourself," the headmaster declared. "No substitutes."
Harry did not reply, though his face tightened in grim determination as he saw his friend disappear. He raised his hand and a dozen maroon spheres arced from his hand, all curving towards the headmaster.
The old man's eyes widened in shock as he hastily raised a shield. The first ten energy balls slammed into the shield and overloaded it, allowing the final two to smash through and hit their target. He cried out as he felt a couple of his ribs break under the impact. He waved his wand, casting a numbing charm on his injuries before retaliating with a crackling bolt of lightning followed by a fireball and a sonic blast.
Harry dodged the lightning bolt but was unable to escape the explosion of the fireball. The blast of compressed sound was hidden by the spreading flames and struck the young wizard, knocking him to the ground.
Dumbledore's smirk faded as he saw the boy stand up unscathed. "Impossible," he muttered.
The floor of the great hall blew up in a series of explosions marching from Harry's position in the centre towards the headmaster. The old man dove out of the way, sending a barrage of jagged ice crystals hurtling towards the boy, who in turn levitated and enlarged several broken chunks of stone to intercept them. The shards of ice smashed into the stones, which Harry then launched towards his enemy. Hidden behind the stones were a brace of piercing curses interspersed with bolts of corrosive acid.
The headmaster swept his wand in a curve, releasing a thin green arc of energy towards the incoming stones. The missiles disintegrated into dust as the energy hit. The arc swept onwards, passing the spells trailing behind the disintegrated rocks. Harry dove to the ground before he was hit and chased his previous spells with a dark grey spell followed by a fireball of his own. The green arc impacted the back wall behind the head table, disintegrating the banner bearing the seal of Hogwarts and a good portion of the stone wall behind.
Dumbledore was struck by several of the piercing curses and at least one acid bolt before the grey spell hit the floor at his feet. It immediately blasted foul-smelling grease in all directions, coating much of the headmaster's splendid robes in the process. A second later the fireball hit, igniting the grease in a raging inferno. Swearing violently, he conjured a sphere of water a dozen feet wide directly above him and dropped it on himself. The force of the falling water swept the burning grease off of him and swept it across the floor in all directions, scattered slicks of fire rolling across the surface of the waters.
Fire, ice, water, lightning, stones, chains, and webs flew back and forth between the two wizards, along with orbs of arcane energy every colour of the rainbow. Runes were invoked to disastrous effect and wounds were healed almost as fast as they were received. Shields flickered, faded, and popped up again to interdict yet more spells. Freezing acidic tentacles erupted from the floor only to be severed by a whip of living flame. A caustic yellow cloud of deadly gas was blown away by a sustained gust of wind.
Albus Dumbledore had decades of experience and a spell library beyond belief, not to mention his secret weapon. The Elder wand was unbeatable in a fight. The only way it had changed hands throughout its entire history was through treachery and deceit – including when he had ambushed his old friend and former lover Gellert Grindelwald and won the wand for himself. Never in its history had it been defeated in a straight duel. Never in its history had anyone stood for so long against it.
Harry Potter did not have a wand at all – nor did he wield any other kind of magical focus. All he had was intent and sheer will, plus runic defences anchored in the convergence node of the most ley lines in any one place in the entirety of Britain.
The outpouring of magical energy would have shattered the sensors at the Improper Use of Magic department had it still existed, yet neither mage was quite able to get the better of the other.
***EoD***
She was gradually aware that she was floating in darkness, yet it was unexpectedly warm and even somewhat comforting instead of cold and barren. It was not unlike a protective embrace from a parent, she realised. Time held no meaning here, nor did such concepts as urgency, danger, fear, or even sadness. I could stay like this forever, she thought. The idea of floating here for eternity strangely did not invite the slightest bit of terror as she would have naturally expected.
It was difficult to focus her thoughts, but she was unconcerned. She simply closed her eyes and enjoyed the lethargic sensation of hovering between worlds without a worry or care.
She gradually became aware of a more solid presence nearby and lazily opened her eyes. A familiar-looking girl stood before her in the emptiness though she couldn't quite recall from where she knew her. The new girl had bushy brown hair, beautiful chocolate eyes, and wore a distinctive set of steel and leather armour.
"Hi, Luna," the newcomer greeted with a smile. Her voice was as warm as the darkness that surrounded them.
Memories came rushing back into her head. The years at Hogwarts, the torment she endured from her vengeful housemates, the incompetence of Dolores Umbridge, the Defence Association, the mission to save Harry Potter's godfather at the Department of Mysteries and the subsequent ambush and fight – which ended abruptly as she ran through a room filled with ticking clocks.
"Hermione," she replied. She walked over to her friend and threw her arms around the other girl. "Is this the afterlife?"
"No, my friend. You're still alive but trapped in temporal stasis. I've been given leave to come see you."
Luna had a sudden horrible thought and gave her friend a quizzical look. "Are you…?"
Hermione nodded sadly. "I didn't make it through the battle," she said.
"Oh no," the blonde girl whispered, tearing up. Her arms tightened around her friend as she lay her head on her armoured shoulder. "You and Harry must miss each other terribly."
"It almost destroyed him," Hermione softly replied as she held Luna close. "The only thing that saved him was Odin Allfather bringing him to Yggdrasil in a dream and allowing us to be together there. Since then I've been allowed to speak with him in his mind, but I still think he's only waiting to rejoin me."
"That's so sad," Luna sniffled.
Hermione gently grasped the younger girl's shoulders and pushed her back, holding her at arm's length. "Luna," she said, "Harry desperately needs you right now. Will you go help him?"
"Of course," she replied as she blinked away her tears. "I… I'll do anything to help him."
"I know you will, my dear friend." Hermione gave the other girl a steady, probing look. "His heart is broken, and given the abuse he grew up with and the betrayals he's suffered I would be very much surprised if his mind wasn't broken too." She lay her hand over Luna's heart. "Can you give him the love he needs, the love I know you hold for him? Can you love him enough for both of us?"
Luna's breath caught in her throat. She'd fallen in love with Harry ever since he'd welcomed her into the Defence Association and considered him to be her first friend. She had said nothing, though, because even then she could tell that he had eyes only for Hermione and vice-versa, despite the fact that they both seemed oblivious to their true feelings. When she found out his intent to try to save his godfather from Voldemort, she like Hermione believed that it was a trap – but her love for him would not allow her to just sit back at the school while he went off into certain danger.
The brief conversation she witnessed between Harry and Hermione before they all left the school on the thestrals told her that the two had finally realised what practically everyone else had seen. She was genuinely happy for them, though she felt a slight pang in her heart that he had not chosen her, and felt that they truly made an excellent match. Seeing the blank expressions on the faces of the two youngest Weasleys, though, suggested that they may not have the best interests of their two friends in mind. She had decided that she would keep a close eye on the two in case they tried to split Harry and Hermione apart.
Never did she imagine that Hermione would ask her to take care of Harry like that.
"I… well, I…" She exhaled as her face flushed. "I do love Harry," she admitted. "I have since I joined the DA. I never would have done anything to get between the two of you though, I promise!"
"I know, Luna," the older girl soothed as she cupped Luna's cheek. "I dare say you've been the truest of our friends along with Neville, rest his soul."
Luna picked up on her words immediately. "Neville didn't make it either?" she asked plaintively.
Hermione shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not."
"Ron? Ginny?"
She sighed and sat down, patting the nothingness before her in an invitation for Luna to join her. Once the two girls were comfortable, she proceeded to explain all that had happened since the disaster at the Department of Mysteries.
By the end of it, tears were falling unchecked down Luna's cheeks. "So much death," she whispered. "And for what?" Her heart ached for the loss of her father, though she was proud of him for standing up for what he believed in and refusing to back down from those who did not want the truth to be known.
Hermione nodded as she held Luna's hands in her own. "I know," she said. "There's plenty of blame to go around too, but I believe that Harry is blameless in all of this."
"Agreed," Luna said. "None of this would have ever happened if it hadn't been for a bunch of old men with unhealthy egos, but it sounds like Dumbledore is the only enemy left, right?'
"For now," came the reply.
"Everything I can do," she repeated. "You can count on me, Hermione."
The older girl beamed. "I know, dear Luna." She leaned forward and kissed the other girl's forehead.
Luna smiled back at her friend, then grew serious. "Another question," she said. "You've obviously been taken to the Norse afterlife, and by Harry's adoption by the Allfather he too is destined for there."
"Yes," Hermione nodded. "Our ancestors came to the shores of Britain from the Normandy coast, which in turn had been settled by the Norse, so we've always been destined for there."
"The Lovegoods are descended from the Cornish tribes of the ancient Celts," she explained, her voice sad. She gripped Hermione's hands tightly. "I do not want to be separated from you or Harry in the afterlife."
"Nor will you be, my child," a new voice spoke up.
The girls turned to face the newcomer in surprise. An armoured woman with brilliant copper and blond hair and the most dazzling green eyes they'd seen on anyone besides the young wizard they loved approached them along with a man in his early forties. His shoulder-length blond hair was pulled back and gathered in a tail at the base of his neck, and he wore rugged clothing perfect for adventuring or outdoors exploring.
Luna recognised him immediately. "Daddy!" she cried, scrambling to her feet. She dashed over and flung herself sobbing into his arms.
Her father held his weeping daughter close, stroking her hair. "My little Moonbeam," he murmured. "It's so good to see you again, my girl."
"Hermione said you… that you got killed," she whispered into his shirt.
"Aye," he said. "The Quibbler articles upset a lot of people, especially when I called for veritaserum questioning of Ministry personnel and other so-called upstanding members of society. The dark lord, it seems, took special offence at my words and sent some of his goons to the Rookery to silence me."
"I'm sorry," Luna replied.
"Don't be, honey. You were spared my fate because you're in St Mungo's, and I've been reunited with your mother." The smile on his face was beatific.
"So you're happy now?" she wanted to know.
"Completely. Your mother and I are so proud of you, Moonbeam. Take care of Mr Potter, and know that we're watching over you."
The other two women looked on as Luna was reunited, albeit briefly, with her father. Both of them understood that this reunion needed to remain uninterrupted, and at last Luna turned to the red-haired warrior queen, still with an arm wrapped around her father.
"I'm sorry, milady," she said. "I think you said that I will not be separated from Harry and Hermione?"
The lady smiled down at her. "It's quite alright, child. That is why I brought your father, after all. And yes, you will not be separated from them."
Luna gave her a quizzical look, hope warring with confusion.
The older woman laughed. "In answer to your unspoken question, I am Brigantia, representing the Celtic deities. Several moons ago the son of Odin performed an invaluable service to me, and in reward I relinquished our claim on one soul whom I knew would be forever loyal to him. You, Luna Lovegood, are the one I released. You may go to him safe in the knowledge that when you both depart from the world you will be with him and Hermione in the realm of Asgard."
The smile on her face was pure joy. "Thank you, milady," she said.
"And you needn't worry about seeing your parents either," Brigantia went on. "There will always be allowances made to visit each other, the same measures typically used when spouses or lovers are from different realms."
Luna nodded her grateful acceptance. "What of our other friends?" she asked. "Will we see them as well?"
"Neville has been welcomed wholeheartedly into Valhalla," Hermione spoke up. "He acquitted himself honourably at the Department of Mysteries and was received as a warrior. My god, what that did for his confidence. He drinks as much and fights as hard as any of the old warriors now, and is loving every moment of it. I don't know what happened to Ron and Ginny though."
"They are in our realm," Brigantia said. "They are both undergoing, shall we say, penance. Neither are truly evil, and so were spared eternal damnation, but neither are they innocent. When they have made restitution for their sins they will be allowed a place with their friends and loved ones in Annwn."
Luna nodded again and looked around at the others. "I think it's time to go help Harry," she said. "What must I do?"
"First," Brigantia said, "it has been over a year since you entered stasis. Your muscles have atrophied and your body as a whole has become weaker with disuse. I can restore you so you will not have to relearn how to move, and I can ensure your magical core is filled as well."
"And I can give you the knowledge to apparate," Hermione added. "As soon as you leave the hospital you should go to Hogsmeade, and from there to Hogwarts. That's where Harry is fighting Dumbledore."
"As for me," Xenophilius said with a smile, "you know we were planning to go to Sweden to search for the crumple-horned snorkack. I have it on good authority that we would have been unsuccessful but were on the right track. We just weren't far enough north. Might I suggest the Svalbard islands? I think you will have more success searching there."
"Thank you all," she said. "I'll miss you, but I think I've slept long enough now. How do I wake up?"
"Leave that to me," Brigantia said. She reached out and placed her hand over Luna's heart, allowing her divine energy to flow through the girl and heal her body from the slow ravages of time over the previous year.
Hermione came over and placed her fingertips on her friend's temples, filling her mind with the knowledge of apparation. Leaning forward, she kissed Luna on each cheek. "Take care of our man," she whispered. "I'll be waiting in Asgard for the both of you, understand?"
Her father gave her one last hug before kissing her cheek as well. "I love you, Moonbeam," he said. "We'll be watching over you."
Brigantia stood before her once more. "Farewell, child," she said. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against Luna's forehead, bestowing her blessing and goodwill upon her. "Now awaken!"
With that Luna felt herself ascending through the darkness, faster and faster until she slammed up into her physical form.
***EoD***
The Janus Thickey Ward of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was typically the quietest of the various wards and treatment rooms in the hospital. Located on the fourth floor of the hospital, the ward held people suffering from long-term spell damage that at most could only be treated instead of cured. Neville Longbottom's parents were permanent residents here, as was the amnesiac Gilderoy Lockhart.
The ward consisted of a single long room with one locked door at the near end leading to the fourth-floor reception area and open public stairwell that accessed the entire building. Upon entering the room, a linen cabinet containing clean bedsheets and towels could be seen on the left side before the row of beds started. Across from there on the right was a table and several chairs that could be used for meals or tea.
At the far end of the room a large, curtained bay window allowed natural light inside for the patients. Two doors led off to either side at that end, the open one going to the large communal bathroom and the locked one leading back to the area restricted to hospital staff only. A metal desk and medicine cabinet were situated against the wall on the left side of the window, beside the door leading to the staff-only area. A bookshelf was located against the wall on the right side of the window, along with a phonograph and a table bearing a large silver teapot and several stacks of plain white china cups and saucers. An activity table surrounded with several handsome wooden chairs sat nearby, not far from the door leading to the bathroom.
The patients' beds were lined up on either side of the room, each with a large U-shaped metal rail above them holding a curtain that could be used to provide a measure of privacy for each resident. Each bed had a designated area beside it where items of a personal nature could be kept, such as end tables, comfortable chairs, photographs, flowers, and the like. It was thought that having familiar personal items could offer comfort for the patient and perhaps even assist in their ultimate recovery.
The quiet morning was interrupted when the blonde girl who'd been there completely unresponsive for just over a year suddenly snapped her eyes open and leapt from her bed midway down the ward. She wildly looked around for a moment as she got her bearings. Her hair was messy and unkempt from being bedridden for so long, and the clothing she'd worn at admission had long since been replaced with a thin but comfortable knee-length nightgown. She was barefooted and her wand, shoes, and street clothes were nowhere to be seen.
Dismissing her lack of regular clothing and equipment as inconsequential, Luna ran towards the entrance of the ward.
"I say!" called out Lockhart, who was sitting up in his bed with several of his fraudulent books around him. "There's no need to run off, they take care of us quite well here. I can even write with joined letters again! Would you like an autograph?"
The blonde girl ignored him and tested the door. Finding it locked, she whispered the incantation for the unlocking charm: "Alohomora." With a click, the door unlocked and she flung it open.
The receptionist looked up in surprise as the girl ran past. "Miss Lovegood!" she called as she rose to her feet. "You shouldn't be up! You need to return to your bed!"
By this time Luna was charging down the stairs, intent on the ground floor. A healer walking upstairs, wearing the lime-green robes of their profession and carrying a tray of healing potions, tried to reach out one-handed to stop her as she dodged past. The healer's failed attempt caused him to almost lose his balance and drop the tray, but he was able to regain his balance just in time to prevent a catastrophe. "Sorry!" she called back as she rounded the landing and continued her descent.
Four storeys down, she dashed into the hospital's general reception area, darted around a couple of incoming patients, and burst out the door onto the relatively quiet London side street. She continued her run down the sidewalk, weaving her way through the pedestrians, until she came to a narrow alley beside the building she knew housed the hospital she'd just left. Turning down the alley led her to a tiny carpark that held only three vehicles, but fortunately no one was in sight. With a quick spin, she disappeared with just the slightest pop of displaced air, moments before a couple of orderlies from the hospital turned into the same alley in pursuit. They both groaned as they heard the telltale sound of apparation from up ahead, knowing there was no way to track her.
***EoD***
She reappeared in front of Dervish and Bangs, right next to the beginning of the lane that led from Hogsmeade up to the front gates of Hogwarts. The first thing she noticed was that the village was a lot more crowded than it used to be, and the people were much more apprehensive than before. There were more carts selling all manner of sundries along both sides of High Street, the main road going through the centre of the village, and a lot more suspicious glares from the hawkers. Hogsmeade no longer had the air of a quaint, cozy village nestled in the highlands of Scotland. As she looked around, she could sense anger and resentment from people she figured had lived here for years, mostly directed at the people giving off auras of fear, despair, and uncertainty. In the end, no one was happy. Clothing was threadbare, faces were hungry and gaunt, and very little trinkets and luxuries were being sold. People were more interested in meat, fruits and vegetables, bread, bolts of cloth, rolls of leather, nails, knives, utensils, and whatnot than in jewellery, candy, cosmetics, and such.
She slipped through the people and made her way to the lane going up to Hogwarts. Once off of High Street, the path was deserted. She broke into a slow jog as the path rounded the hill upon which stood the Shrieking Shack, and a few minutes later stood before the closed gates of the school grounds.
Her breath caught in her throat as a bar of pure white light burst from the distant castle and travelled up into the sky. From where she stood she was unable to see where it originated, but even at this distance she could see stones exploding from the Grand Staircase tower where the light ray hit it. Even as she watched, the tower shuddered before slowly falling over and smashing into the great hall, sending rubble and detritus everywhere. She could feel the tremors even here as the ground shook from the impact and collapse of the structures.
She pushed on the gates and to her surprise they swung open. She could feel the pain and devastation of the school as if it were alive, pleading with her to hurry before it was totally destroyed. She began running once more, feeling her strength growing as she drew closer.
A stray fireball flew in a wobbly arc from somewhere beyond the clocktower, hit the side of Gryffindor tower, and exploded in a shower of stone and flame. The top of the tower tilted and collapsed, raining a shower of debris on the courtyard below and leaving the base of the tower standing erect like a broken, jagged finger pointing at the sky.
From her vantage point she could see that the apse of the great hall still stood, though the north end was demolished from the collapse of the main tower. There were several holes in the curved wall that she could see, but it was still mostly intact at the moment. She could see the flickering of coloured lights through the remains of the windows, as well as their reflections on the rubble at the far end. The lights were accompanied by various bangs, whooshes, and rumbling explosions. Every so often another sphere of glowing arcane energy would blast out of the remains of the hall in yet another random direction. As she approached the cloistered courtyard in front of the clocktower, she saw one of those energy bolts, a sickly green in colour, strike the Ravenclaw tower halfway up. The stone immediately began melting into grey-green foam and falling to the courtyard below. It was no time at all before the weight of the top of the tower was too much for it rapidly-dissolving support, and it too collapsed in an earth-shaking rumble of destruction.
She dashed through the empty halls, dodging the occasional chunk of falling rubble, passing the hospital wing, and approached the faculty tower. Normally students were not allowed within this section of the castle without a special pass, but with Gryffindor and Ravenclaw towers both lying in ruin this was the only way to get near the remains of the main tower and ultimately to what was left of the great hall.
The corridors here were empty as well. The sealed doors leading to the professors' quarters were interspersed with several portraits, all of which seemed abandoned at the moment. Carved niches which normally held some of the numerous suits of armour that dotted the castle's halls were currently empty as well, and she wondered where they might have gone. Bursting through the oaken double doors at the other end of the hall, she came to a sudden stop just before she plummeted to the broken rubble some twenty feet below her.
The Grand Staircase with its constantly-shifting flights of stairs would never again confuse or befuddle students trying to get to class or dorms. Fragments of the base of the tower's curving wall still stood in some places, but the inside was filled with rubble, including several of those shifting stairs sticking up out of the debris. The midsummer sun shone down from a blue cloudless sky overhead, casting its rays upon spaces that had not seen its direct light in millennia.
Luna took a quick look around at the ruins. She could see that the collapse of the tower left a path of destruction leading straight to the entrance hall and the north end of the great hall. She made her way down the broken ledge to the pile of rubble and began her cautious trek through the debris, careful to not displace the uncertain footing.
Portions of the north wall of the great hall still stood, allowing her to approach unseen. The sounds and flashes of spellfire grew louder as she neared the hall, and at last she was close enough to peer around a shattered wall into the remains of the room where two men were fighting. They were surrounded by shattered stone, splintered wood, and the twisted remains of various pieces of armour – which answered her earlier question of the location of the suits of armour. The old headmaster stood with his back to her, wand moving as quickly and precisely as if he were directing an orchestra, incantations flowing from his tongue.
She almost didn't recognise Harry due to the beard he now wore and the patch over his eye. He was dressed for battle with sturdy clothes that allowed plenty of room for movement, over which he wore a cuirass of well-cured leather. He held no wand but instead had his left hand thrust out as he leaned on the staff in his right hand.
Raw magical energy blasted out from both mages as they fought, a nonstop barrage from each that met in the middle between them. Hissing, smoking, and crackling, the energy beams sounded not unlike a raging waterfall as they struck each other, sending jets of wild arcane residue splashing out in all directions, burning and dissolving the broken flagstones where they hit, lining them with frost, or even simply changing their colour or material. From where she stood she could see that both wizards had their undivided attention upon the other.
She crept around to the next wall, taking care that she remained unseen while making sure that she was out of Harry's line of fire but still maintaining direct line of sight to Headmaster Dumbledore. Satisfied with her position, she focused on her magical core. Lacking a wand, there was only so much she was able to cast, but given the fact that the headmaster's full attention was on Harry, she felt that what she could cast would certainly connect. His wand movements were absolutely precise and his incantations flawless, and yet he seemed to be just holding his own against Harry. Thinking for just a moment, she smiled as an idea struck her.
She whispered an incantation of her own: "Capsicum," while touching her nose, casting a single cantrip – the weakest of spells. She smiled as a crimson energy bolt flew from her outstretched palm straight towards Dumbledore's head.
***EoD***
Dumbledore was nearly incandescent with rage at this point, but decades of experience allowed him to quash his anger and pour all his focus into his spellwork. And yet nothing was getting through the brat's defences. There was no way he should have been able to stand up to the Elder wand like he was doing, yet he just would. Not. Die.
Without warning, an intense burning erupted deep in his sinuses, immediately causing his eyes to flood with tears. In the middle of his incantation, he sneezed violently.
Once.
His watering eyes widened in horror as his concentration was shattered.
***EoD***
Harry's focus was so intent that he missed the spell hitting Dumbledore in the back of the head. He didn't miss the headmaster's colossal sneeze, nor the reflexive jerk of his wand, breaking both his incantation and gesture. The old man's outpouring of energy didn't even have time to flicker and die as Harry's own sustained burst of raw power overwhelmed it. The blast of eldritch fire slammed into the old wizard and consumed him as if he were made of nothing more than paper before burning a hole through the wall, the rubble of the main tower, the cloisters of the viaduct courtyard, across the Black Lake, and deep into the Forbidden Forest before Harry could stop it.
All that remained of Albus Dumbledore were a pair of silver-buckled boots with feet and legs still in them, up to just below where the knees used to be. The tops of the shins were burnt with thin trails of smoke still wafting up. A loop of charred fabric encircling the boots was all that remained of his robes. The only other remaining sign of him was a severed hand and forearm, also scorched and cauterised at the end, still clutching the Elder wand.
The sudden silence in the broken remnants of the great hall was deafening. Harry slowly lowered his hand, a look of wonder on his face. "It's over," he whispered. "It's really over." His knees buckled and he would have collapsed had he not been leaning on his staff.
"Harry!" a familiar voice cried out.
He looked up to see a dishevelled Luna Lovegood picking her way through the debris strewn across the broken flagstones. "Luna?" His mouth hanging open in surprise, he disconnected from his runic protection over the unblemished bronze seal and hurriedly strode across the battlefield towards her. Upon reaching her he picked her up and swung her around in his arms, holding her close. He did not seem to be aware of the fact that she wore only a thin nightgown and was still barefoot. The only important thing at the moment was that one of his closest friends was still alive. It took him several long minutes before he realised that he was weeping into her shoulder.
Luna simply held him, stroking the back of his head. She couldn't imagine the pressure of the one-man war he'd fought over the previous year, to say nothing of the isolation from human contact. Holding him in her arms as he finally allowed himself to break down brought home Hermione's words to her in a way that she couldn't possibly have fully understood until now. "I've got you, Harry," she whispered. "You're not alone anymore, and you'll never be alone again."
He finally pulled back so that he could see her, as if to reassure himself that he wasn't dreaming. She gave him a warm smile through her own tears before raising herself up on her toes and gently kissing his lips. "That's from Hermione," she told him. "And this one's from me."
Somewhat taken off guard, he nevertheless returned her kiss as ardently as it was given. He could feel Hermione's full love and approval surround the both of them. She's the one I told you about, my love, he heard her say in his mind, and from the look on Luna's face she could hear her as well. I'll be waiting for both of you to join me. Until then, live your life and love each other fully, and I will see you soon. I love you. With that, they both felt Hermione's presence fade away with a certain finality that told them they would not hear from her again while they walked the earth.
Harry raised his face to the blue sky above. "Farewell, my love," he said as his arms tightened around the slender blonde. A gentle breeze swirled around them as fresh tears slid down his cheeks, but these were cleansing to his soul. For the first time since he could remember, he felt as light as a feather. No burdens, no destinies, no prophecies existed to burden him down. He closed his eye, envisioning the last vestiges of her spirit saying farewell.
He slowly exhaled, then opened his eye and gave the diminutive blonde a sad smile. "Luna," he said, "I'm afraid I'm damaged goods. I don't know how good I'll be for you. I don't even know if I'm capable of loving you like I know you want."
She returned his gaze, her silver eyes wide and guileless. "I promised Hermione that I'd take care of you," she replied. "We know you're broken, and I'm going to do everything I can to put you back together again. Just please be good to me, and let me love you, and I'm sure everything will work out for us. And then we'll see Hermione again when it's time."
He nodded his agreement and then seemed to notice her apparel for the first time, including her lack of shoes. He winced as he saw bloody footprints, the obvious result of her clambering over broken rubble barefooted. "Oh Luna," he said. "We need to get you some real clothes and get your feet healed. You didn't even stop to get dressed?"
She smiled up at him. "You needed my help as quickly as possible," she said.
He knelt down before her and invoked the Berkano rune while laying his hands on her feet. She sighed in relief as the pain from the lacerations faded along with the injuries.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Stay here for just a moment," he said, gesturing at a piece of stone large enough to sit on. The stone rolled over to them and he patted it, inviting her to sit. "I've a couple of things I need to do before we leave."
She nodded and took her seat as he turned and went back to the severed arm of the headmaster. He leaned over and took the Elder wand from the grasp of the cold motionless fingers. As he held it, his suspicions were confirmed. The wand was a powerful artefact with a measure of intelligence and awareness of its own, and not at all benevolent. He could feel its siren call within him, begging him to become its ultimate master and use it to bring the world to its knees. Only the legacy of Odin that flowed through him allowed him to resist its call. This wand was too powerful, too dangerous, to allow it to continue its presence in the world. Without hesitation, he grasped it in both hands and snapped it in half. Dropping the two fragments, he invoked the Fehu rune and burnt them to ash.
He turned back to Luna and she gave him an approving smile. "Well done," she said. "This world is much better off without the temptation of an unbeatable wand."
He returned her smile and looked over to the hole in the wall where he could just make out Snape's hateful glare. "You signed your own death warrant when you told Nott about Hermione's grave, you son of a bitch," he growled. The entombed professor's eyes widened but aside from that he was unable to make any kind of reaction. With a gesture a small piece of rubble flew up to the hole, filling it completely and sealing the potion master away forever.
"Let's get out of here," Harry said. He took Luna's hand, helping her to her feet, and called for Hedwig and Dobby.
***AN***
Preparing for Battle: Traust by Heilung
Confronting Dumbledore: Vengeance by Zack Hemsey
Luna Awakens: Anoana by Heilung
Leaving Hogwarts: Farewell by Apocalyptica