Disclaimer: Not the owner of Harry Potter blablabla, I don't have the rights. They all go to it's rightful owner.
Im Not a Hoe: Hey ! Thanks a lot for your review. I'm truly glad you enjoyed the story and my writing. It's a real pleasure to see a review like that from someone who read almost the entire story. Good vibes from France ! Happy New Year, and I hope you'll have a great day !
Guest: Thanks for your review. As I said in the answer above, I'm glad to see people that enjoyed my story so far, so thank you for staying with me. Take care, and Happy New Year !
CaskettFan5: Will anything be left you ask ? Well, maybe, maybe not ? What can I say... Oh yes, some battles are ending in this chapter. Finally, some characters will have some rest. Sorry to make you wait ! But don't worry, I don't have many chapters left. What's more, the last one before the epilogue is long (Around 15000 words). In general, my chapters tend to be between 5 and 10k words, so it's a big one. I hope you'll enjoy it ! Anyway, Happy New Year (even though I already said it in the last chapter), thanks for sticking up with me, and take care !
The story is slowly coming to an end, with only two chapters left: the final one, and the epilogue. Thanks to everyone who stayed with me, and I hope the final fights and the ending won't disappoint you. Take care everyone !
12/14/1995, 02H32, Hogwarts, Scotland:
"Fight for what is right, not for what is easy!"
These were the last words Harry had shouted to his fellow study group members before they headed into battle. Simple words, yet heavy with meaning, still resonating in the air as he watched them scatter, each carrying the same determination within. They had trained together, shared their hopes and fears, and now they were ready to defend those they loved, even if it meant risking their lives.
Each of these young wizards had a family—brothers, sisters, and friends to protect. They weren't soldiers, far from it, but the urgency of the situation had driven them to take up arms. And although Harry felt an unbearable guilt for involving them in this war, he knew it was inevitable. Even with all the courage and power of Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts couldn't, on his own, hold back the massive army of the Dark Lord.
If the school's protections were to fall, it would mean the end. Hogwarts, a bastion of hope for so many witches and wizards, would fall, and with it, everything they had fought for. Voldemort would then extend his grip over the magical Britain unchallenged.
Harry couldn't accept such a defeat. He had too much to lose. Too many of his loved ones had already risked their lives, and he wouldn't let Voldemort's shadow reach them without fighting to the very end. His thoughts constantly turned to his friends, those he had sworn to protect.
After receiving the urgent message from Hadrian, Harry had gathered his group in the Room of Requirement. The situation was critical, and they all knew it. He had explained the risks with complete transparency, hiding nothing of the brutal reality that awaited them.
One of the things he had emphasized most was the unpredictability of battle. During their training, they all knew what to expect. Every spell was practiced, analyzed, and perfected before moving on to the next. But on the battlefield, it would be vastly different. The Death Eaters, under Voldemort's orders, weren't concerned with perfecting their magic. Their sole aim was to kill, by any means necessary.
'And if Tom decided to launch such a massive attack, it's because he's convinced of his advantage,' Harry thought, his mind turning to his uncle, Hadrian. His worry grew with each passing moment. 'Dumbledore is strong, but he can no longer afford to duel Voldemort alone. If the Dark Lord has decided to attack today, it's because he's certain no one can stop him.'
This certainty gave rise to a deep, gnawing fear in Harry: Hadrian must be detained somewhere, unable to join the battle. This thought never left his mind, even as he led his comrades. He then thought of Hermione and Neville, his two closest friends, who were holding hands as he finished preparing, discussing the best way to organize their group for the battle.
Tactically, it would have made more sense to separate them and assign them to lead different groups. But Harry couldn't bring himself to do it. He understood all too well the pain it would cause his friends, because he was living that same fear with Daphne. He couldn't impose that same anguish on Hermione and Neville.
They had all talked one last time before setting out, sharing memories and laughter to lighten the tension. They ended with a group hug, an intimate and sincere moment that, despite the gravity of the situation, allowed Harry to regain a bit of strength. It was all he could afford to do to keep from breaking under the pressure.
When he was alone, he only had to worry about himself. It was simpler, easier to bear. But now, he had a family, close friends, and an entire people pinning their hopes on his name. 'And then... there's her,' he thought, a wave of comforting warmth soothing his anxiety.
# Flashback #
Harry let out a sigh of relief as his speech finally ended. In silence, he watched his comrades gather into groups, forming units based on their respective strengths and weaknesses. Some headed toward the entrance to prepare for battle, while others escorted the younger students to Hogsmeade through a secret passage the Room of Requirement had revealed.
This passage, Harry had tested only once, and aside from a grumpy old man who bore an uncanny resemblance to Dumbledore, it posed no danger as an escape route.
"In two weeks, it'll be four years since we met," a soft voice remarked beside him.
Harry turned his head to see Daphne, who had quietly approached. He nodded absentmindedly. "I remember. You hated me back then." A smile played on his lips as memories flooded in.
Daphne lightly punched his shoulder, a smirk appearing on her face. "What did you think, Potter? That I'd fall in love with you at first sight?" she teased.
Harry struck a mock-noble pose. "What do you mean, miss? Is there anything about my modest person that's not worthy of admiration?" Daphne burst out laughing, her melodious laugh captivating Harry as it had years ago. He could never tire of that sound, that sweet echo of happiness resonating in his heart.
If he could, he would have frozen that moment in time, creating an endless loop just to hear her laugh like that forever. 'It would be a far better ending than facing Death itself,' he thought.
Daphne stepped closer, her slender fingers slipping into his hand. "At first, I didn't know what to think," she admitted. "The famous Harry Potter had just entered my life. And then I was pushed to form an alliance with you, maybe even a friendship. I even thought my father wanted to marry me off that day."
Harry smiled at her. "You wanted to avoid that more than anything, and look where we are now."
"I know," she replied with a soft smile. "But at least I had a choice. I love you because I chose to, not because I was forced to. I got to see who you really are. I saw the brave boy who risked everything to protect this school, who saved me from a thousand-year-old Basilisk, and who faced Voldemort himself."
Harry squeezed her hand, remembering the countless obstacles they had overcome together. The giant serpent, the betrayals of students, the schemes of Draco and Theodore—challenges that had only strengthened their bond.
"I love you too, Daphne," he murmured. "I don't know if it's my Potter blood or my Gryffindor nature, but I admire your courage. For a Slytherin, you didn't hesitate to defy your house, even the worst Death Eaters, to protect your family." He couldn't hide the pride he felt for her.
They stayed silent for a moment, savoring this moment of peace before the storm—the calm before everything descended into the chaos of battle.
"Come back to me alive, okay?" she whispered as she turned to face him, her eyes shining with worry.
Unable to respond, Harry leaned in and kissed her gently. "I'll be careful," he murmured. "But you have to promise me, too—run if it gets to be too much. I'd rather chase down one more Death Eater than lose you." His voice was cold, almost harsh, betraying the terror he felt at the thought of her being hurt—or worse.
"I'll do my best," she promised before kissing him one last time, a kiss filled with love but also fear. Harry's heart raced, electrified by the contact. In that kiss, Daphne poured all her love and her terror of losing him. He returned it with equal intensity, holding her close one last time.
"I'm going to meet my father at the entrance. See you later, Harry." She smiled at him before walking away, leaving behind a void that Harry felt immediately. He watched her go, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
A frosty mist escaped his lips as he exhaled. "I won't die," he murmured to himself, like a desperate prayer.
"If you want to survive, you know what you must do," a voice whispered in his mind.
"One word, and all your worries will vanish."
# End of flashback #
Harry lifted his head, snapping out of his reverie as he sensed a familiar presence. He was here.
"I can't decide whether to admire your bravery or mock your stupidity," Voldemort hissed, drawing his wand with a cruel smile.
Harry sighed, bracing himself for the inevitable. "I'm not sure myself," he replied grimly.
"Our last duel taught you nothing, then?" Voldemort taunted, his voice sharp as a blade. "This time, your uncle won't be here to save you."
Harry clenched his teeth, his suspicions confirmed. 'He's found a way to keep Uncle Hadrian occupied. It's the only reason he dares to come here'.
"What have you done to him?" Harry growled, his voice low and menacing.
"Me? Nothing at all!" Voldemort sneered, circling Harry slowly like a predator toying with its prey. "I've merely ensured that he has… a most interesting reunion."
"Siena!" Harry shouted, realization dawning.
Voldemort burst into laughter. "Oh, they likely won't be able to defeat him, of course. But that doesn't matter to me. If he survives, I'll deal with him once you're dead."
A cruel smile spread across his lips. "Don't worry. You'll see him again very soon."
A split second later, a storm of curses came hurtling toward Harry. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding wildly.
'No turning back now. Either It's him or me.'
12/14/1995, 02H47, Voldemort's Base, Romania:
Sirius, panting heavily, chased his crazed cousin through the ruined manor of her master. The battle raged on, the ground trembling beneath their feet as spells shot from his wand with astonishing speed. Each incantation sliced through the air like an invisible blade, ready to strike, while he dodged the deadly curses raining down in his direction.
The duel against Bellatrix, Voldemort's most loyal servant, was merciless. There was no room for error, no space for hesitation. Both were pushing the dark magic of their shared lineage to its very limits, knowing that a single misstep would mean death.
"Reducto!" Sirius roared, blasting apart a stone wall Bellatrix had hastily conjured for protection. Through the rubble, he caught a glimpse of black hair disappearing into the shadows. Wasting no time, he unleashed a powerful explosive curse that struck the ground just ahead of her. The impact thundered through the room, hurling Bellatrix backward, her body slamming violently against an old wardrobe with a dull crash.
For a fleeting moment, Sirius hoped it was over. 'Did I finally manage to take her down?' he wondered. But his hope quickly crumbled as he noticed the faint shimmer of blue light surrounding her motionless body.
'She had time to cast a shield... damn it!' he thought furiously, anger boiling within him. He straightened, ready to resume the assault.
Bellatrix rose slowly, limping, her face twisted in icy rage. The usual mocking glee was gone, replaced by pure hatred, a murderous thirst radiating from her piercing gaze. With a flick of her wand, a mass of snakes erupted from the ground, slithering like spectral phantoms between her and Sirius. The serpents coiled and writhed, forming a living barrier that deflected his spells.
Then, with a sinister scream, Bellatrix sent the snakes lunging toward him. Though she couldn't speak Parseltongue like her master, she had diligently studied under his tutelage, absorbing every dark magic lesson he deigned to share. Among these was a shadowy spell that allowed her to command conjured serpents—a twisted hybrid of the Imperius Curse and animal summoning.
Sirius gritted his teeth, fighting desperately against the reptilian onslaught. His wand slashed through the air at lightning speed, each strike disintegrating a serpent, but their numbers seemed endless. For every one he destroyed, more took its place. He was bitten multiple times, and a brutal Bone-Breaker curse struck his left hand, rendering it useless. 'At least it's not my wand hand', he thought bitterly, gritting his teeth against the pain.
Forced onto the defensive, his movements slowed by his injuries, Sirius found himself struggling to keep up. Bellatrix, noticing his weakening state, began to recover her trademark derision, the mocking lilt returning to her voice.
"So, Siri? Is this all you've got?" she sneered, her sing-song tone dripping with cruelty, her tongue clicking with every word. "I understand. You must be tired. Perhaps you're finally ready to join your dear Potter friends on the other side? I'm sure Peter and the others are having a lively chat right now!"
At the mention of Peter and his fallen friends, an indescribable fury surged through Sirius, drowning out all reason. With a furious roar, he raised his wand and blasted the ceiling above him. The debris came crashing down with a deafening roar, burying the remaining snakes beneath the rubble. A heavy silence followed as Sirius caught his breath, his eyes blazing with hatred.
'There's no way I'm letting this lunatic get away', he thought.
Without hesitation, he swept away the smoke and debris with a flick of his wand, advancing on Bellatrix, determined to finish it. But before he could strike, the ground trembled violently, a shockwave shaking the entire manor. 'The fight outside…' he realized. The titanic clash raging beyond these walls was so intense it threatened to bring the entire structure down.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Sirius unleashed a lethal spell—an organ melting curse, one of the most terrible in the Black family's grimoires. It was ruthless magic, designed to kill agonizingly. Sirius felt no remorse. This madness had to end.
An orange flash shot from his wand, but Bellatrix, acting on pure instinct, dove to the ground, narrowly avoiding the curse that would have sealed her fate. "You nearly killed me!" she shrieked, for the first time revealing a hint of panic in her voice.
Sirius, relentless, transformed into his animagus form—a massive black dog—and lunged toward her in one fluid motion. Despite his injured paw, he was fast, fueled by pure adrenaline, determined not to waste another opportunity.
Bellatrix, unsteady from the trembling floor, tried to retaliate, but her spells went wide. Before she could regain her footing, the black dog leapt at her, sinking his teeth deep into her shoulder.
A piercing scream tore through the manor, the kind of scream that could unsettle even the hardest of hearts. Bellatrix struggled desperately, managing to shove Sirius off, but not without great difficulty. The animagus stumbled back, limping, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he observed the damage. Blood poured freely from her shredded shoulder, but she wasn't done yet.
In a swift, desperate move, Bellatrix switched her wand to her uninjured hand. Taking advantage of Sirius's return to human form, she fired a Cruciatus Curse that struck him squarely.
Sirius howled, his body wracked with unbearable pain. It felt as though his very being was being torn apart, every nerve aflame, as if thousands of searing blades were slicing through his flesh. Memories he had long buried surged to the surface—his mother's cold, cruel face, her brutal punishments whenever he refused to embrace her hatred for Muggle-borns.
Bellatrix advanced slowly, a victorious smile twisting her exhausted features. "You fought well, cousin," she said with a sneer, "but now, it's time for you to join your dear friends." She raised her wand, ready to cast the killing curse.
"Avada Keda—"
Before she could finish, another violent tremor rocked the manor. The shockwave made Bellatrix stumble, weakened from blood loss. Her curse veered off course, the green jet striking the ground beside Sirius. Taking advantage of the brief respite, Sirius struggled to his feet.
Both of them were at the edge of their limits, their exhaustion taking a heavy toll on their combat abilities. Still, neither could afford to back down. Sirius pressed the attack, relentlessly alternating between strikes and defense. Bellatrix, despite her madness, was visibly losing strength. Her movements grew slower, more hesitant, and for the first time, despair flickered in her wild eyes.
Sirius, pushing through the pain consuming his body, forced himself to keep going. 'Thank you, Hadrian', he thought, grateful to his godson's uncle for the grueling training that had prepared him for this moment. 'Without it, I wouldn't still be standing'.
He deflected yet another dark spell before tearing up a piece of the wooden floor and hurling it at Bellatrix. The impact knocked her off balance, and she nearly toppled backward. Seeing his chance, Sirius cast a Bone-Breaker curse with surgical precision, aiming directly at the hand holding her wand.
A sickening crack filled the air, followed by a scream of agony. Bellatrix's wand slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a dull clatter. Her face, contorted with pain, now displayed shock and disbelief. How could she, the most formidable of Voldemort's followers, be bested by the cousin she had always looked down upon?
But Sirius wasn't done. Without hesitation, he followed up with an explosive spell aimed squarely at her chest. The blast struck Bellatrix with immense force, flinging her across the room. She crashed into a massive window, shattering the glass in a deafening cacophony.
Her lifeless body was hurled through the window, landing heavily in the manor's rear courtyard. Sirius, wide-eyed and trembling, watched with a mix of exhaustion and grim satisfaction. She had fallen. Slowly, he approached the gaping hole in the wall, peering down.
Bellatrix lay sprawled on the ground, motionless. Her legs twisted at unnatural angles, her shoulder—the one he had bitten—still bleeding profusely. Her chest had been torn apart by the explosion, leaving a gaping wound that ensured there was no chance of survival. Her face, frozen in an expression of terror, bore the unmistakable imprint of her final moments.
"Go to hell, you bitch," Sirius murmured, his voice rough and trembling with anger and fatigue. His heart pounded wildly, but he had no room for pity. Bellatrix had caused so much pain, so many deaths… She deserved every second of her brutal end.
He collapsed to the floor, utterly spent, carefully gauging his magical reserves. His injuries were severe, though most of them, while debilitating, weren't life-threatening. Taking a moment to steady himself, he began casting healing spells on his battered body.
His broken hand stubbornly resisted his efforts to heal it, and the searing pain of the Cruciatus Curse still lingered in every fiber of his being. But Sirius knew he couldn't stay down for long. The fight wasn't over. Bellatrix might be dead, but battles still raged within and outside the manor.
Hadrian and Fortuna were still out there, fighting. And if Voldemort or his followers discovered what had happened here, they would undoubtedly come after them next.
Gritting his teeth, Sirius forced himself to his feet, his legs shaking beneath him. Every movement was agonizing, but he pushed through. 'I'm still standing', he thought, equal parts defiant and grateful. 'And as long as I'm breathing, I'll keep fighting'.
He raised his eyes toward the ruined hallway, knowing that every second mattered.
"Fortuna… Hadrian… Harry," he whispered, his voice weak but resolute.
"It's your turn now."
12/14/1995, 02H42, Voldemort's Base, Romania:
"I won't let you escape!" shouted Fortuna, her voice echoing through the dark corridors as she chased Nagini, Voldemort's last Horcrux. Wand in hand, she unleashed a flurry of spells at the serpent, but each one was deflected by the creature's thick, magically reinforced skin.
She had no idea where she was anymore. The only certainty was that the manor's dungeons were a labyrinthine maze. Around every corner, cells lined the sinister hallways, most of them abandoned, their heavy air filled with shadowy gloom. Fortuna couldn't afford to investigate; her mind was focused on one goal: destroying the Horcrux.
Her breathing was ragged, each gasp heavier than the last. Her magic flared with desperate intensity, but it wasn't enough. Nagini kept slipping further away, gliding with terrifying fluidity. The cursed snake seemed to be toying with her, dodging every attack and disappearing into the shadows with ease.
Finally, exhaustion overtook her, and she collapsed to her knees, her muscles burning with fatigue and strain. She gritted her teeth, refusing to give in. 'Not now. Not yet', she thought, drawing on every ounce of willpower to push herself upright. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, and every breath was a struggle, but she forced herself to move forward.
As she rose to continue, a muffled sound behind her stopped her in her tracks. 'What was that?' she wondered, still panting. She turned and retraced her steps, stopping in front of a cell where the noise had originated. What she saw struck her like a bolt of lightning.
"Masayuki? Leo? Hery?" she gasped, her heart sinking at the sight of Hadrian's squad lying battered and broken inside the cell. "Even you, Elena? What happened to you?" she exclaimed, horrified by their condition. Wasting no time, she shattered the magical protections on the door and rushed inside.
The squad members tried to speak, but their lips wouldn't move. Fortuna quickly realized their mouths had been sealed by a curse, preventing them from communicating. 'What kind of monster could do this?' she thought, her gaze sweeping over their naked bodies, scarred and covered in deep, bleeding wounds.
Kneeling beside them, she raised her wand to dispel the curse sealing their lips. Elena and Leo seemed less gravely injured, but Hery and Masayuki struggled even to sit upright.
The moment the spell was lifted, Hery frantically pointed behind Fortuna, his expression wild with terror.
"Snake!" he screamed just as Fortuna felt Nagini's fangs sink into her calf. A cry of pain escaped her lips as the venom seared through her veins. The cursed serpent, its mission accomplished, retreated into the shadows, vanishing… into the wall.
Fortuna fell to her knees, her trembling hands instinctively clutching at the wound. Blood streamed from the bite, but that wasn't the worst of it—the venom spread rapidly, sending waves of weakness coursing through her body. Her head spun, and she fought desperately to stay conscious.
"It's venomous!" growled Leo, limping toward her. "The boss should have something to treat it, but you need to get out of here—now!"
Despite the excruciating pain, Fortuna shook her head violently. 'Run? Abandon the mission?' The very idea filled her with disdain. 'Hadrian is out there fighting. Sirius is fighting. And I'm supposed to run?' she thought angrily. 'I'm no weak princess waiting to be saved.' She was a warrior, and she would prove it.
Forcing herself to her feet, Fortuna planted her trembling legs firmly beneath her, ignoring the searing pain in her calf. "So, the snake can meld into walls…" she murmured, her voice calm despite the storm raging inside her. She cast a detection spell at the wall where Nagini had disappeared, trying to track the serpent's path.
"Listen to me," she said, turning to the weakened squad members. "You need to leave this place immediately. Hadrian and Sirius are here, but they're occupied. Hadrian is battling Siena and Nemesis, and Sirius is fighting Bellatrix. You're in no condition to fight. Get out of here, find an exit, and Apparate as far away as you can!"
They stared at her, uncertain, their battered forms a testament to the hell they'd endured. Hery, defiant despite his injuries, asked, "Why should we leave you behind?"
Fortuna held his gaze, her face tight with exhaustion. "Because I can still fight. You can't." Her tone left no room for argument. Her words carried an unshakable determination.
Another tremor shook the manor, the distant battle threatening to bring the entire structure down. Finally, the squad relented, each of them limping toward the exit, casting one last glance at Fortuna before disappearing up the stairs.
She watched them go, then turned back to the wall. 'Just you and me now', she thought, gripping her wand tightly. Her vision blurred dangerously, but she refused to falter.
The venom gnawed at her insides, her magic waning, but she still had one last card to play. She summoned lightning, a brilliant bolt of energy erupting from her wand to strike the wall. "Show yourself, accursed snake!" she shouted.
Suddenly, a magical barrier shimmered, briefly revealing an intricate system of concealed passages within the walls where Nagini moved. Fortuna allowed herself a faint smile. "An illusion…" she whispered, coughing as pain wracked her body.
She raised her wand again, channeling every ounce of her remaining strength into a surge of electricity that tore through the barrier, electrocuting the network of conduits. It wasn't enough to kill the serpent, but it would be enough to drive it out.
As she predicted, Nagini burst from the wall with deadly speed. The massive serpent lunged at her, its weight slamming her to the ground. Fortuna managed to conjure a shield just before Nagini's gaping jaws could close around her throat, momentarily fending off the assault.
The impact was so forceful, however, that her wand flew from her grasp. 'No, not now!' she screamed internally, panic surging through her. Disarmed, weakened, and with no wand, her chances of survival dwindled rapidly. But the fury burning within her refused to let her surrender. 'I won't die here—not like this.'
With desperate strength, she grabbed hold of Nagini's neck, thrashing and struggling with every shred of energy left in her body. 'I refuse to die without seeing Hadrian one last time.'
In one final, defiant move, Fortuna rolled backward, breaking free from the serpent's crushing grip. But Nagini's powerful tail lashed out, striking her and sending her crashing into the iron bars of a nearby cell. Pain exploded in her back, but she gritted her teeth, shoving the agony aside as she scrambled toward her wand.
Nagini, sensing its prey's vulnerability, coiled to strike again, aiming for the killing blow. Fortuna, trembling and barely able to move, stretched out her hand, her fingers closing around the wand just as the serpent lunged.
She didn't think—she acted. In one swift motion, she pointed her wand directly at Nagini's gaping mouth and unleashed a black fireball, the modified Fiendfyre spell Hadrian had taught her. The dense, crackling flame erupted with unimaginable force, surging into the serpent's open jaws and deep into its body.
Nagini froze, its massive form going rigid as though caught in a nightmare. Then, slowly, black smoke began to seep from its scales. A shriek—inhuman, piercing—echoed through the dungeons, chilling Fortuna to her core. The serpent writhed violently, its enormous body contorting as the destructive magic consumed it from within.
Fortuna, breathless, watched in both horror and awe as the creature began to disintegrate. Smoke and ash billowed from its body as it shrank, its form collapsing into a charred, crumbling heap. A dark, shapeless mist rose from the remains, writhing and screaming in agony before dissipating with a final, chilling wail.
Silence fell.
Fortuna was alive, but barely. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, ravaged by venom and exhaustion. Nagini's remains were nothing but ash—a legendary creature, obliterated by her fiery assault. She had done it. She had destroyed the final Horcrux. But at what cost?
Her vision blurred as the venom coursed through her veins, wreaking havoc on her system. Each breath was labored, every exhale a fight to stay conscious. She knew she had to act quickly. Time was running out.
"H-Hadrian," she whispered, her voice barely audible, as she forced herself to stand. Her legs wobbled beneath her, threatening to collapse with every step, but she clung to her determination. The thought of Hadrian fueled her resolve, even as her body begged for rest.
Staggering forward, she leaned against the cold, damp walls of the dungeon for support. Every step was a monumental effort, the pain in her leg from Nagini's bite pulsing with a vicious rhythm. But her mind clung to one thought: she had to find Hadrian. The man she had chased for years, the one she had vowed to follow.
She had to see him again. "Wait for me… I'm coming."
Her movements were unsteady, her vision swimming, but she pressed on. She stumbled out of the cell and into the endless corridor, each footfall feeling heavier than the last. The manor continued to shake from the furious battles raging above. The shaking mirrored her body's fragility, as if the very structure shared her struggle to stay standing.
Fortuna forced herself to focus, her mind clouded by pain and fatigue. She knew the venom would soon take her if she didn't find an antidote or help. Time was a luxury she didn't have.
Her thoughts flickered to Leo and the others she had freed. Had they escaped? Had they managed to Apparate to safety? She hoped they had. If her life was the price for their freedom, it was one she was willing to pay. But another part of her, stronger and more defiant, refused to accept that fate. 'Not yet', she thought fiercely. 'I have to hold on. For him.'
Her legs buckled, and she barely caught herself against a stone pillar. Her blurred vision darted around, searching for a sign, a direction. Every second was critical, and she couldn't afford to falter now.
As she steadied herself, a distant cry shattered the silence. It was faint but unmistakable—the sound of combat. And a voice she recognized.
"Hadrian," she breathed, her heart pounding despite the pain. He was still here. He was still fighting.
Summoning the last reserves of her strength, Fortuna pushed forward, her battered body screaming in protest. The path to Hadrian seemed endless, but she refused to stop. Not when she was so close.
"Hold on, Hadrian," she whispered through trembling lips. "I won't leave you alone."
12/14/1995, 03H21, Voldemort's Base, Romania:
"Why… Why won't you die!" screamed Nemesis, narrowly dodging an explosive curse hurled by Hadrian. Her eyes blazed with uncontrolled fury, her rage cutting through the air like a tangible force.
The time traveler remained silent, his expression unreadable. His assault continued with relentless precision, his magical core depleting and replenishing at a breakneck pace. Each second brought him closer to utter exhaustion. If he didn't reduce the power of his attacks or slow their rhythm, he would soon be forced to abandon the fight, drained of all energy.
But none of that mattered. One thought dominated his mind: to end the life of the woman standing before him. Nothing else held significance. Harry, Dumbledore, Sirius, the DWT, Fortuna—all of their lives hung by a thread, one that could snap at any moment.
A part of him knew it might already be too late. Voldemort had left the manor for the castle nearly an hour ago. Harry wasn't ready. His magical core hadn't yet reached its full maturity, and he didn't have the advantage of the rituals Hadrian had undergone.
Harry… The young wizard wouldn't have the strength to stand against Voldemort in a duel, not against someone so ruthless, so overpowering. Hadrian knew this. Harry might succeed, but not without consequences—grave consequences.
The plan Hadrian had envisioned, bold as it had been, had unraveled. He and Dumbledore were supposed to hold back the enemy forces while Harry faced Voldemort, leaving the DWT, Sirius, and Fortuna free to assist wherever needed. That plan, once their best chance, was now little more than an unachievable memory.
"I did everything!" Nemesis shrieked, her face twisted with near-animalistic frenzy. "I learned to counter every one of your attacks! Your fighting style, your rituals, your every move—I studied them all! How are you still surpassing me?!"
Hadrian shook his head, a flicker of pity in his eyes. Nemesis didn't understand. She had amassed an incredible wealth of knowledge, but she was still trapped by theory. Hadrian, on the other hand, was a warrior forged by experience. Every duel he fought honed his skills. Where Nemesis relied on academic prowess, he adapted. Every battle taught him something new, another layer to refine his craft.
The prolonged duel was working in Hadrian's favor. The longer it lasted, the stronger he became. Nemesis, for all her immense magical core, still lacked the nuances of mastery.
She was a strategist. He was a veteran. A man who had faced exhaustion and death countless times. He had endured trials Nemesis couldn't begin to fathom.
A silver bolt sliced through the air, grazing his shoulder and eliciting a grimace. But he didn't falter. With a swift motion, he wrenched the earth beneath Nemesis's feet, causing her to stumble. Channeling his magic into the ground, he summoned three massive stone spikes and sent them hurtling toward her.
To his surprise, Nemesis abruptly dropped her anti-Apparition wards. With a triumphant, exhausted smile, she vanished in a breath and reappeared behind him.
"Confringo!" she shouted, the explosion sending Hadrian sprawling to the ground.
He knew he had only moments. The blast had dazed him, and his injuries, though severe, weren't fatal—yet. He had to act quickly.
As he fought to regain his senses, he saw Nemesis advancing, her wand raised, hatred burning in her gaze.
"If only you knew what I've sacrificed to reach this moment…" she murmured, a manic smile twisting her lips. "I gave everything… even my soul. All of it, to bring us here."
Hadrian, sprawled on the ground, listened in silence. His strength was fading, but one last question burned within him. "And after that?" he rasped, his voice barely audible through bloodied coughs. "Once I'm dead… what will you do?"
Nemesis flinched, her hand trembling slightly. "I… I will…" she began, but her words faltered, caught in her throat. For the first time, realization dawned on her. Like him, she lived for vengeance. Without him, what was left? The death of Hadrian would mark the end of her purpose, her reason for existing.
Her gaze shifted to a figure lying nearby: Siena, barely alive, her frail body crumpled on the floor. A sad smile crept onto Nemesis's lips.
Seeing her attention waver, Hadrian silently summoned the last reserves of his magic. He felt the connection to his wand, and to the stone spikes he had conjured moments earlier. With a subtle flick of his hand, they moved.
Nemesis turned just in time to see him raise his wand. "In your dreams!" she spat. But before she could finish, the stone spikes impaled her with brutal force. Three jagged lances struck her torso with perfect precision. She staggered backward, her breath ragged, her face frozen in shock.
"You…" she tried to say, but the words died on her lips as her body collapsed in a pool of blood.
A heavy silence settled over the two fallen combatants. Hadrian felt his life slipping away, his strength dwindling with every heartbeat. Was this the end?
He closed his eyes, each breath more laborious than the last. His body, battered and broken, refused to respond. His heartbeat slowed, and the world began to fade.
Nemesis, lying a short distance away, whispered faintly, her voice barely audible. "At least… I'm taking you with me…" Her tone wavered, a mixture of satisfaction and despair. She knew her end was near, but the thought of dragging Hadrian into death alongside her was her final solace.
Hadrian, his eyes still shut, didn't reply. He could feel Nemesis's magical presence flickering, like a dying ember consumed by darkness. A fleeting moment of calm followed—a deceptive quiet. Yet his mind refused to rest. This wasn't over.
He summoned what little magic remained, attempting to sense the area around him. Nothing. Sirius, Fortuna, the DWT—none were nearby. Had they escaped in time? Or had they fallen to Voldemort's traps and forces? He couldn't be sure. And the Horcrux? Still no trace.
The uncertainty gnawed at him, even as the edges of his consciousness began to blur. One thought remained: It can't end like this.
"I hope... that it's the first option..." he murmured to himself, forcing a faint smile on his cracked lips.
Suddenly, Nemesis' dying voice rose one last time, weaker, but filled with a strange sincerity. "You have a plan, don't you?"
Hadrian opened his eyes, his gaze settling on her. In his current state, there was nothing he could do. If he didn't find a way to heal quickly, he would die too. Yet deep inside, a spark of hope still shone. He had one last resort. One last bet.
He coughed, his body shaking from the effort, but his lips let out one final cryptic whisper. "Maybe..."
Nemesis, gathering all the little energy she had left, made a final request. Her voice was barely audible, a nearly imperceptible breath.
"Please... give her a chance..."
Her gaze weakly turned toward the frail figure of Siena, still lying on the ground. "She... she's only ever known this..."
Hadrian felt the last breath of life leave Nemesis' body as her magical core extinguished forever. For a moment, the silence grew heavier, as if even the magic around them mourned the fall of this powerful witch.
His gaze shifted to Siena. She was still alive. Barely, but alive. 'Such tenacity,' he thought, a trace of admiration cutting through his exhaustion. But what to do with her? Nemesis had devoted her life to vengeance, and Siena seemed destined to follow the same path.
He watched her silently for a long while, searching for the best course of action. A familiar voice echoed in his mind. 'My thing of saving people...' He remembered Hermione and her words whenever someone he knew was in danger.
He was about to make his decision when, without warning, a crackling sound echoed in the air. A dark figure suddenly appeared near Siena. The stranger, dressed in a dark cloak, bent quickly over her and seized her with an unsettling fluidity.
Hadrian widened his eyes, his body reacting purely out of instinct. He forced his injured arm to rise, pointing his wand at the intruder. But it was too late.
In a second crackle, the figure and Siena vanished in a flash, as if the world itself had swallowed their presence.
Hadrian, stunned, let his arm fall. His body relaxed against the cold ground. 'I'm going to die...' he told himself, feeling the crushing weight of reality descend upon him. He had failed. If he didn't find a solution immediately, he wouldn't be able to save anyone. Not Harry, not Sirius, not Fortuna... No one.
Despair seeped into his thoughts, but he pushed it away with newfound strength. Clenching his fists, he channeled everything that was left of his core. There was still one thing he could try.
Beneath him, the ground began to vibrate gently. A massive clock appeared, its hands spinning faster and faster, emitting an obsessive ticking sound. Then, slowly, the face of the clock shrank, until it was no more than an ethereal watch, floating in the air.
Hadrian took a deep breath. It was now or never.
The watch burst into a glowing bubble, enveloping his battered body. In the blink of an eye, everything around him turned white, like an infinite void, a vast, pristine expanse resembling the limbo. Then, the sensation of falling gripped him.
He fell, again and again, into an endless void. His mind was soon overwhelmed by waves of information, memories of every moment he had just lived. The spells, the battles, the pains… everything was relived at a dizzying speed. He was moving backward in time. It had been a long time since he had attempted such a journey. Not since that fateful first time in Italy. Back then, his core had been broken, allowing him to move backward through the flow of time unintentionally. But this time, it was different. He was in control. Every second. Every thread of magic that held him in this world.
The price was steep. The magic in his core was burning up at an alarming rate, inflicting unspeakable pain. But Hadrian knew it was the only way. The only hope to change the grim outcome of this night.
"I can't go back any further..." he realized, feeling his reserves depleting. This was where his journey had to stop.
With a breath, he cut off the magical flow. The time realm receded, and he felt his body torn from that dimension outside of time. The light blinded him for a moment before he crashed heavily onto the ground.
Hadrian groaned, his injuries waking up unbearable pain. "Damn..." he swore, panting.
Pulling out his wand, he whispered in one final breath, "Tempus."
The numbers danced before his eyes. December 7th, 1995. 11:54
He was once again in that alley, behind old Tom's pub. Gravely injured, but alive.
Why had he come back here, exactly?
It didn't matter. If he stayed here, he would be condemned.
Forcing his body to rise, he closed his eyes, and a thought crossed his mind: St. Mungo's Hospital.
"You'd better be on duty today, Cassandra," he murmured before apparating with a crack.
12/14/1995, 02H41, Hogwarts, Scotland:
Illuminated by the distant lights from the battles between Voldemort's army and the defenders of Hogwarts, Harry and Tom faced each other. On one side, the Survivor, now fifteen years old, his green eyes glowing with a supernatural light. The aura of Death surrounded him, dense and oppressive, like a shadow coming to life around him. On the other side, Lord Voldemort, at the height of his power, a cruel smile distorting his inhuman features.
The two wizards, so different yet bound by a shared destiny, stood facing each other, their wands raised, ready to unleash their power.
"You're defending yourself better than in our last fight. Congratulations!" Voldemort mocked, a sadistic gleam in his eyes. He raised his wand, his face contorted with impatience.
But Harry no longer faltered. The ten minutes of continuous battle against the Dark Lord had shown him he had a chance. His hands gripped his wand firmly, showing no hesitation. The magic of Death flowed through his veins, a dark, ancient force far beyond the simple Dark Magic Voldemort wielded so well.
Another green flash shot out, but Harry was already moving.
"Atlas!" Harry's shield broke, but managed to deflect the Killing Curse despite its power, sending it flying through the air like a shattered glass mirror.
The spell exchange resumed.
The wands danced in the air, flashes of red, green, and blue light splitting the darkness like lightning strikes. Harry moved with a speed and grace that felt almost foreign to him, each movement a perfect response to Voldemort's attacks. His spells no longer resembled those of a teenager but those of a seasoned wizard, wielding terrifyingly powerful magic.
"Die!" Voldemort roared, aiming at the ground at Harry's feet.
A deafening explosion sent Harry flying backward, but refusing to remain on the defensive, he retaliated immediately.
"Bombarda!" The ground between them exploded, creating a crater of smoke and debris. Harry rose effortlessly, his green eyes shining even brighter.
"Is that all you've got?" Harry said with a calmness that unsettled Voldemort. The Dark Lord, accustomed to seeing fear in his enemies' eyes, hadn't expected this cold indifference.
Harry was afraid. Still, he knew that a duel wasn't only about wands. Psychologically destabilizing his opponent would increase his chances of victory, if he could manage it.
Suddenly, Harry lowered his wand slightly, and the ground beneath Voldemort began to tremble.
From the black, damp earth, gigantic tentacles erupted, twisted and powerful, wrapping around Voldemort with brute strength. Before the Dark Lord could react, one of them struck his leg violently, throwing him to the ground with terrifying force.
A cry of rage escaped Voldemort. He pointed his wand at the tentacles trying to bind him further and retaliated vehemently.
Flames erupted from his wand, devouring the tentacles in an instant. But it wasn't enough to extinguish the Dark Lord's fury. His wand glowed with a reddish light, and with a sweeping motion, he summoned a fire serpent that Harry recognized.
'Damn Basilisk,' he thought with annoyance, the heat from the Fiendfyre reaching him despite the distance.
The immense fire serpent rose from the ground, its flaming fangs glowing like dead stars. It lunged at Harry with blinding speed, its flames crackling with unbearable heat.
Harry frowned, raising his wand to try and repel the creature. Spells burst from his wand in a whirlwind of light, but the fire serpent seemed to grow, its flames intensifying with every spell repelled. It coiled around Harry, its fiery coils tightening, forcing him to retreat.
"You'll never escape this, Harry!" Voldemort laughed, savoring his temporary advantage.
But Harry, his face resolute, decided to abandon conventional spells. He didn't want to leave his body to Death... But if he was careful, he could use its magic.
In a swift movement, he plunged his wand into the ground while letting out an inhuman cry.
A wall of ice appeared between him and the fire serpent, immense and shimmering, with a supernatural whiteness. The fire met the ice with a deafening roar, but Harry's barrier held firm, its surface gleaming with ancient, impenetrable magic.
The serpent tried to coil around the wall, searching for a weakness, but in vain. Harry took advantage of the respite to release the full power of Death's magic. His green eyes lit up with an even brighter glow, burning like two cursed emeralds.
Roaring again, he twisted his wand. Black scythes appeared around him, floating in the air like ghostly creatures, each cutting through the space between them with a sinister hiss. With a flick, Harry sent them shooting toward Voldemort. The Dark Lord, though surprised, dodged the first with serpentine agility.
But that was only the beginning. Harry raised his wand and, in a guttural scream, summoned black crows, shadows tearing at reality itself, their wings slicing the air with deadly precision. The birds dove at Voldemort, harassing his defenses, trying to bite into his flesh.
Voldemort, cornered, raised shields, but each impact from the scythes or the black crows weakened them. His face twisted in pure rage, feeling that, for the first time, he was on the defensive. He couldn't accept it. What kind of magic was this? It defied all logic. It was inconceivable!
He screamed in frustration. "Avada Kedavra!" he cast repeatedly, trying to destroy the creatures of Death, but Harry remained unyielding. The magic surrounding him, dark and immutable, protected him. His eyes never stopped glowing, green flames burning in his pupils.
The decisive moment arrived when Voldemort, too busy fending off the scythes and crows, failed to notice the Death Reaper approaching him. A skeletal figure, armed with a sharp blade, suddenly appeared behind him, and in a fluid, merciless motion, severed his left arm, the one that wasn't holding his wand.
A scream pierced the night, the unbearable pain shooting through Voldemort's body as his mutilated arm fell to the ground. Black blood spurted from the wound, and the Dark Lord staggered, disoriented.
Harry, his eyes still glowing with that unsettling green light, slowly advanced toward him. Voldemort, weakened, dropped to his knees, his red eyes widened in disbelief.
"It's over, Tom," Harry growled, his voice raspy, his muscles tense from the effort he had just exerted. He had managed to regain control of his own magic, but barely. He knew that if he had hesitated for even a moment longer, Death itself would have overtaken him, consuming everything in its path.
'Doesn't matter,' he thought, shaking his head to banish the dark thought. 'There's more important things to do.'
Before him, Voldemort remained still for a moment, his red eyes sharp and piercing, glaring at Harry with chilling arrogance. "You can't kill me, Harry!" he hissed, his voice betraying a sinister pride.
To Voldemort's surprise, Harry let out a loud, almost mocking laugh. "You're talking about your toys? The Horcruxes?" Harry scoffed.
"They've all been destroyed for a long time, Tom! You may not have known that yet. All you have left is that snake... and we'll take care of that soon. Don't worry."
Harry's confidence shook Voldemort's, but he quickly regained his composure, ready to respond. However, a sudden and intense pain gripped his chest, and he gasped, stunned. Nagini. The last anchor of his soul had just perished.
The connection between them was so strong that Voldemort felt her loss physically. His eyes widened, his magic unleashed in a fit of rage, sending a devastating wave of energy from him, violently throwing Harry backward. Voldemort's unleashed power split the air around them, leaving a deafening silence in its wake.
"This is not..." he murmured, a shadow of doubt creeping into his mind. For the first time in decades, the reality of dying truly began to sink in. It was a possibility he had never seriously considered.
Voldemort straightened, his features clenched, but something insidious had infiltrated his thoughts. His plan, which had seemed foolproof up until now, was crumbling. All the protections around the manor had been reduced to ashes. How had Hadrian managed to defeat Nemesis, Siena, and even Bellatrix, his most powerful allies? It seemed impossible.
He muttered, almost to himself: "He didn't... defeat all those witches, did he?"
But he didn't have time to dwell on it. His arm, the one that had been severed earlier by a reaper summoned by Harry, suddenly began to regenerate, tendrils of black smoke swirling around the wound. The flesh quickly reformed, a chilling reminder of the terrifying nature of his own magic.
"No!" Voldemort roared, his eyes glowing with madness. "I won't be killed like this!"
His hand gripped his wand, and he rose with feverish determination. Part of him wanted to return to the manor, but he knew it was useless. Time was running out. He had to act now. If he could crush the last defenders of Hogwarts, he could finally bend the school to his will.
Limping slightly, his leg still weakened by Harry's earth tentacles, Voldemort advanced toward the young wizard. He no longer had the desire to talk, no more time to waste on grand speeches. This time, there would only be death. The Killing Curse.
In a cold whisper, he cast the fatal spell, raising his wand, the green light already growing.
Harry, stunned by the impact of Voldemort's unleashed magic, opened his eyes just in time to see the movement of the ivory wand, the green glow of imminent doom. His body refused to move, paralyzed by exhaustion and pain. He was at his limit. And yet, as death drew near, his thoughts turned to those he loved.
"Please, don't die!" Daphne's words echoed in his mind, more powerful than Voldemort's curse itself. The faces of his friends, his family, flashed before his eyes. They were all still in danger. They were counting on him.
Suddenly, something changed within him. His eyes opened, glowing with an intense green light, and a cold certainty gripped him. "No... I can't die. Not now."
A mocking voice echoed through the air.
"Oh, so you've finally made your decision, Harry Potter?"
"Yes," Harry growled, his voice heavy with a newfound energy. He knew what he had to do. Death was calling him, and this time, he was going to fully embrace his power. If he didn't do this now, everything would be lost.
Voldemort, a carnivorous smile on his lips, prepared to finish off his adversary. But Harry didn't give him the chance.
The young wizard gripped his wand tightly, and with a deafening roar, an explosion of power erupted from his body. This was no longer just magic. This force came from another realm, a domain Voldemort had never truly understood.
The air around them darkened, heavy with a mournful weight, as though the shadow of Death itself was descending upon the hill.
And this shadow of death—Harry was its epicenter.