SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997
Draco walked out the front door, on his way to Disapparate to the Hogwarts grounds, and Narcissa remained on the stairs, her heart pounding. Every instinct had been screaming to keep him here, to hold him down physically if necessary, anything to keep him out of danger, anything, anything…
But those were old fears talking— old worries, old compulsions. She could not carry him everywhere she went the way that she had when he was an infant. Her son was a man now. He was— perhaps— about to be a hero.
Or a martyr, if she didn't get to Lucius in time. Draco had rapidly explained the situation to her before he left— the war they had been anticipating would not be a war at all. No, it would be just one battle, one final fight at Hogwarts of all places, and Draco was on his way there after freeing the Weasley family from their imprisonment. Bellatrix, Draco was sure, would figure out his treachery sooner rather than later, but she was not a Malfoy; she could not waltz into the grounds uninvited, much as she might wish to. That would give Narcissa time.
She raced down the stairs, lifting her skirts to give her more room to move, and hurried forward into the entrance hall, where a portrait of Armand Malfoy loomed. He looked down at her in uninterested disdain— the common expression for a Malfoy portrait.
"The family is threatened," she said, drawing herself up to her full height, ignoring her racing heart. "Malfoy Manor is at risk. Secure the grounds at once."
Armand raised an eyebrow and, after a pause, inclined his head and said, "Sanctimonia Vincet Semper."
"Sanctimonia Vincet Semper," Narcissa breathed in relief as Armand stood up in his portrait and headed into his neighbor's frame. As historic head of the household, he would alert the others, and together, the enchanted paintings could activate some of the manor's oldest defenses. That would surely keep any hostile parties out. Perhaps not the Dark Lord himself, but he was surely otherwise occupied—
She stifled a ragged gasp as she turned the corner from the entrance hall to the first floor corridor that housed Lucius's study. Her son had betrayed the Dark Lord… If all did not go as Draco wished today, he would be a dead man walking if he was lucky. If he was unlucky…
Tears clouded her vision as the sight of his ruined back rose unbidden in her mind, the strips of skin hanging loose over agonized muscles, the blood, the way he had screamed—
She stopped walking and grabbed her upper left arm with her right hand, digging the nails in. She had not had to do this in a long time— not since Draco was a toddler and her stress had been so much harder to control. Sometimes pain, just a little bit, was enough to pull her back down to the ground, pull her mind out of the tornado of thoughts that left her battered and bruised and gasping for breath. She took a deep breath, focusing on the sting of her nails digging into her skin through her robe sleeve, and forced the breath out again.
She could breathe later. Now, she had to run. She had to run for her son— for the chance for him to have a future.
She raced down the hall, coming to a stop outside of Lucius's door. She bit her lip. Lucius would listen to her. He had to.
"Lucius, I must speak with you," she said, knocking softly on the door. "It's urgent."
Lucius came to the door at once and, despite everything, Narcissa breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her husband.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
She nodded for him to allow her entry to the study, and he opened the door wider, letting her step inside.
He had the curtains open, showcasing the early fall foliage. The leaves were already changing color.
The Malfoy family's lives were about to change too— forever, in one way or another.
"The Dark Lord will be summoning you shortly," she said, her back to Lucius as he shut the door. She looked over her shoulder at him. "You must not answer."
"What? What are you talking about? Of course I—"
"He will be summoning you because he has learned your son has betrayed him," Narcissa interrupted. "Or, if he has not yet learned of it, he will summon you to the battle that is brewing at Hogwarts, but he will learn soon enough, and then both your and Draco's lives will be forfeit."
Lucius's face was pale as he took a stumbling step forward and grabbed onto the back of a chair. "Betrayed him how?"
"By freeing the Weasley family, attacking and knocking out half a dozen Death Eaters, and stealing their wands. They are on their way to join the fight… and Draco will be with them soon."
Lucius's eyes bulged. He gripped the back of the chair so hard his knuckles grew white. "All for the girl, I assume," he said through gritted teeth.
"I don't think so," Narcissa replied, closing the distance between them and laying her hand over his. "Not all for her. He loves her, that is true… but he has become a man, Lucius. Have you not seen it?"
Lucius's lip curled. "A man would never put his family in danger like this—"
"And so he fights," Narcissa said, holding eye contact with him, "to protect his wife."
The air hung thick with tension.
"You know that's what she is, Lucius."
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "Foolish, foolishboy—"
"He was never going to be safe again, Lucius. We both knew that, after the… after the…" Her voice broke. After the whipping.
Lucius's gaze softened, and he brought his free hand to lay over Narcissa's, running his thumb gently along the back of her hand. "I had hoped… that if he distanced himself…"
"What distance can there be when their souls are tied?" Narcissa said desperately, fighting back tears. "There was never going to be any distance, even if the Dark Lord never discovered their secret. He is tied to her. And so he fights— not just for her, but for himself too. For the good of the family line."
Lucius cried out and looked down at his left arm. His Dark Mark was burning.
"Malfoys first," Narcissa whispered. "Please."
Lucius gnashed his teeth and looked away. "What would you have me do?" he bit out.
Narcissa squeezed his hand. "We go to Hogwarts, together, and protect our son."
"You would have me fight against the Dark Lord, alongside the Order of the Phoenix?" Disgust laced his tone.
"Does ideology really matter that much to you? Don't you remember what our lives were like, before his return? How peaceful it was, how happyit was? I remember the look on your face when you returned from the graveyard, Lucius. You would have rathered the Dark Lord stayed dead."
Lucius looked at her. "You speak treason."
"We're well past the point of treason now, my love."
"I will go to Azkaban for this— if the Dark Lord should fall. We will not have happy times again."
"Perhaps not… not if you fight on the winning side. Wasn't that always your grandfather's admonition— to back the winning side?"
He stared at her for a long moment, and she knew he was fighting to ignore the burning in his arm.
"And you're willing to bet it all on Harry Potter, against the greatest Dark wizard the world has ever known?" He wrinkled his nose.
"I'm willing to bet it all on the Malfoys," she said coolly. "Ginny Weasley included."
Lucius heaved a deep sigh. "If the Dark Lord finds Draco, he will die."
"And then I will die too," Narcissa said, eyes blazing. "So I suggest that we get to Hogwarts, and find him first."
Lucius closed his eyes. "The things I do for family… Come on. If it's a battle, perhaps we should bring a few things."
SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997
Harry stumbled down the steps leading from the Headmaster's office, his mind curiously blank. He felt... fuzzy, maybe. Staticky, like his brain had short-circuited.
It was all true. Dumbledore had known all along. He would have to die, by Voldemort's own hand, no less. And Snape...
Snape was on their side after all. Of course he hadn't done anything with the diadem when he discovered it. He had just been waiting to find Harry, to get him alone long enough to pass on this greatest of secrets...
Voldemort's soul lived inside him, though Voldemort himself did not know it. And once Harry allowed himself to be killed, that would make Voldemort mortal once more, assuming the other Horcruxes were taken care of. Maybe Snape himself would land the killing blow in Harry's absence. Had that been part of his assignment, all this time? To guide Harry just close enough to die at the proper moment, and then finish the job himself?
The job wasn't finished though. The cup and Nagini were both still in play. If Harry were to die now—
"Harry!"
He looked up, startled, and saw Ron and Hermione racing towards him, their cheeks flushed with excitement.
"What are you doing up there, mate?" Ron asked, panting as they came to a stop. "Looking for Snape?"
"No, I..." He trailed off, unsure how to explain what he had just seen. "Never mind that now. Where did yougo?"
"Oh it was all Ron's idea," Hermione gushed. "Brilliant, really. We went down to the Chamber of Secrets."
"You what?"
"Basilisk fangs," Ron said by way of explanation, lifting up a large, curved tooth. "That way we're not so dependent on the sword. We got a whole bunch of 'em, enough for almost the whole Order probably."
"But... but how did you get in there?" Harry asked, dumbfounded. "You have to be a Parselmouth."
"Or be good at imitating one! Show him, Ron."
Ron's flush deepened and, embarrassed, he cleared his throat before doing a passing imitation of Harry saying openin Parseltongue.
Harry raised his eyebrows, and Ron chuckled.
"I heard you say it with the locket, and I felt pretty sure I could get it right with a few tries. Emphasis on a few—probably took me close to ten minutes. But I got it. Now when we find the diadem—"
"I have it," Harry interrupted, pulling the diadem out of his robe pocket and making Hermione gasp. "Zabini helped me find it."
"He did?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.
"War makes strange bedfellows," Hermione said with a shrug.
"I would neverbe bedfellows with Zabini—"
"It's a figure of speech, Ron—"
"Anyways," Harry said loudly, making the two of them pause. "We have the diadem. And now we have multiple ways to destroy it."
They all looked at each other.
"You want to do it, Hermione?" Ron asked. "You haven't gotten a chance yet."
"Oh!" Hermione said, looking startled as her cheeks pinked. "Alright, I suppose I can take a crack at it. Should we go somewhere else? Somewhere more private?"
"No point," Harry said flatly. "Not much of a secret to be kept now— he's on his way here, if he isn't here already."
Hermione swallowed but nodded as she took the basilisk fang from Ron. "Alright. Then let's... let's set it on the ground then."
Harry did as she bade, then backed up a step. The faint light of the torches on the walls glinted in the prominent sapphire on the diadem's face, and he swore he could feel the piece of soul inside it, almost like a heartbeat. Had it always been like that, or did he only notice it now that he had fully accepted the truth about his own tainted body?
"It might... show you things," Ron blurted, and Harry knew he was thinking about the phantoms the locket had manifested. "But they aren't real. Just ignore them and stab the bloody thing."
Hermione nodded firmly before tying her hair back and kneeling down in front of it. "Get ready," she said in that sharp tone that Harry knew meant she was serious. He gripped his wand, forcing his thoughts away from the Pensieve, and focused his attention on the diadem. Ron, across from him, widened his stance and lifted his own wand, ready to jump in if necessary.
Hermione didn't hesitate. She stabbed the diadem right in its sapphire heart. An ear-piercing scream echoed off of the stone walls, and Harry fought the impulse to cover his ears. The diadem jerked across the ground, dragging Hermione with it, but she held firm to the basilisk's fang and twisted it deeper into the stone, making the screeching grow even louder.
"Mudblood! Filth! Stain of dishonor!"
"Like I haven't heard that before," Hermione snarled and, with a final twist, she broke the sapphire. The screaming stopped. Harry watched, awestruck, as inky black tendrils spread through the cracked sapphire's surface before fading away. Was that Voldemort's soul? Was that what it looked like? Was that what his body would look like when—
"Well, on the whole I would say that wasn't too bad," Hermione said, though her shaky breathing betrayed her true emotions.
"You're amazing, Hermione," Ron whispered, and Hermione beamed up at him, wiping a stray lock of hair out of her face.
"Yeah," Harry said abruptly, shaking his head to come back to the present moment. "Brilliant. Really brilliant."
"Two more to go, then," she said, jumping to her feet and dusting her hands off.
Harry couldn't help himself.
"Three more."
Hermione frowned for a second before softening her gaze. "We don't know that, Harry. Not for certain."
"Yes we do. I saw—"
"There they are!"
Harry turned, startled to hear Neville's voice, and his mouth fell open in shock. Neville had the whole Weasley family in tow, looking a bit disheveled but otherwise unharmed.
"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley cried before picking up speed, racing to meet her youngest son, who went running towards her and embraced her tightly. "Ron, are you alright? Please tell me you're alright—"
"I'm fine, Mum," he said in a shaky voice as his father and brothers and Fleur arrived next to them, panting but smiling. "Are youalright? How are you even here?"
"Well, you're not going to believe this—" Bill started.
"It was Malfoy," George interrupted. "He freed us all and told us to come here, that there was going to be a fight."
"He helped us take out a bunch of other Death Eaters and steal their wands," Fred added, lifting up an unfamiliar wand for them to see. "You-Know-Who took ours ages ago. But once we had these, we were able to Apparate to Hogsmeade, and make it through to Hogwarts. You remember the old Honeydukes passage, right? They never closed it off. Then Neville found us and told us you lot were here, and we knew Malfoy had been telling the truth."
"Is Ginny with you?" Ron asked, looking up from his mother's chest. Even from here, Harry could see Mrs. Weasley's lip quiver.
"No," Mr. Weasley said quietly. "You-Know-Who took her. I'm not sure what all you know, but we've witnessed a lot in the last few hours. We should share information."
"We should find McGonagall first," Neville said. "She's warding the castle, but if you all know information about You-Know-Who's plans, she should know about it."
"That's a good idea," Mr. Weasley replied, nodding. "Can you take us all to her? We should figure out our strategy."
"Of course."
Neville turned and walked down the hallway, leading the Weasleys, Ron included, behind him, and Harry was struck by the memory of Dumbledore explaining Trelawney's prophecy, how it could have applied to Neville instead of him. Would Nevillebe the one to finish Voldemort off for good? Harry to die, and Neville to land a killing blow?
He and Hermione followed the group, giving them a little space as each of Ron's brothers in turn embraced him or patted him on the back as they walked, talking over each other.
"We're not done talking about this, Hermione," Harry said, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
"I know." She too kept her eyes on the Weasleys, not looking at him. "But not right now."
Harry watched Ron be embraced by his family, watched the tears stream down his best friend's face at the sight of his parents and his brothers unharmed and free at last, and his heart ached.
"No, not right now."
SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997
They walked deep into the Forbidden Forest, the early afternoon sun hidden by the ever-present gloom of the trees. Trying to walk at a decent pace while carrying Nagini and Hufflepuff's cup was nearly impossible; Ginny stumbled many times, barely aware of her surroundings. There was a moment where Snape grabbed her by the arm, stopping her from tumbling headfirst over a tree root, but as soon as she righted herself he pulled his hand away as if burned.
He wouldn't look at her. She tried to look at him, but he wouldn't make eye contact with her, which annoyed her more than anything. Didn't he understand that she had done him a favor, by pulling Voldemort's attention away from him? He had been about to accuse Snape of being a traitor— something Ginny personally didn't think was too likely, but Voldemort wasn't always a rational man. But Ginny had pulled his attention away with her talk of fate, and now Snape walked alongside her, a free man. It was an exchange— he had saved Cordelia Barrows' life, and now Ginny had saved his. But he didn't seem very grateful for it.
They walked on, and Ginny grew more and more tired, though that tiredness rapidly dissipated as they were joined by a veritable herd of Acromantulas. Ginny screamed, and Voldemort scolded her, telling her not to scare off his new friends.
Soon, they reached a gap in the trees, and Voldemort came to a halt, beckoning for Ginny to stand beside him.
"This is as good a place as any," he murmured before pressing the Elder Wand to his arm. "Death Eaters, I summon you."
Some responses were instantaneous, while others took longer. Over the next few minutes, at least fifty men Apparated into the Forest, landing and bowing before Voldemort. Greyback arrived with a dozen men in tow that Ginny didn't recognize, but judging by the scarring on their bodies, they had to be werewolves. Cold horror hit her as she realized these people would be descending on Hogwarts soon. Could McGonagall and the Order evacuate the school? But that meant the Order would be attacked by all these people... by Acromantulas... Had her family made it inside Hogwarts? Would that barrier recognize that they weren't a danger? Or were they stuck outside?
Bellatrix arrived, and Ginny stifled another scream as thunderous footsteps filled the air. She had brought giants. Actual full-grown, armed giants. Bellatrix cackled at the look on Ginny's face, bowing before her master.
"Your army, my lord," she said reverently. "They are yours to command. But I must—"
Voldemort smirked. "Excellent. Thank you Bellatrix. That will be all for now." Bellatrix, her face flushed, fell silent, and Ginny prayed to anyone who would listen that Draco's treachery would go unaccounted for.
More men were still arriving. These ones weren't wearing Death Eater robes, and looked rather less well-off than the typical Death Eater Ginny had seen. They had certainly not been invited to any events... who were they?
"They call themselves Snatchers," Voldemort murmured, quietly enough that only she could hear it. "Mudblood hunters. Not worthy of the Mark, but they'll make good foot soldiers."
She didn't know why she said anything.
"You don't have to do this."
He turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "I don't?" he whispered, reaching up to push a strand of hair out of her face. "What makes you say that?"
"I'll... I'll be good."
He laughed harshly, the sound echoing oddly in the clearing. "You know that's not enough. And besides, it's irrelevant now— one of my precious things is inside that castle, and Harry Potter is looking for it. I must keep it safe. You said it yourself— it's fate for us all to be here today."
He turned to face the crowd, which, if Ginny had to guess, now stood a couple hundred strong. "Today marks the beginning of a new era," he called, magically projecting his voice. "Hogwarts thinks to stand against the might of Lord Voldemort— to defy my commands, to harbor Harry Potter as a fugitive. They are about to learn the full extent of my wrath."
A handful of cheers went through the crowd, making Ginny nauseous.
"Potter has stolen a great treasure from me," he continued. "A kind of tiara, with a blue gem on its face. Its value to me, and me alone, is beyond measure— anyone who can return it to me will be rewarded beyond their wildest dreams."
Greedy whispers echoed as the crowd shifted.
"No one may kill Potter other than me— if you do, under any circumstances, you will suffer a fate worse than death. Am I understood?"
"Yes, my lord!" the men cried in relative unity.
"Good. Now— Hogwarts seems to think that a few paltry magical barriers are strong enough to hold out against my army. It is your duty to prove them wrong. Go now, and breach the wall. Send a signal when it is done. Do not kill the boy. Bring me my treasure. I care not how many others you kill."
"No," Ginny whispered, but no one could hear her over the sound of hundreds of footsteps, turning away from the clearing and marching toward Hogwarts.
"Bellatrix. Dolohov. Macnair. Snape. Lucius. Yaxley. Rookwood. You stay with me."
The named Death Eaters lingered behind, and Voldemort frowned.
"Lucius is not here."
"That's... that's what I wanted to tell you, my lord," Bellatrix said hesitantly, looking at Dolohov, who nodded at her. "There has been... a betrayal."
Voldemort's voice was icy. "What do you mean, a betrayal?"
"It was..." Bellatrix hesitated, and it dawned on Ginny that, despite everything, Draco was indeed her nephew.
"Out with it, Bellatrix."
"Draco conspired against you, my lord," she said, bowing her head, and Ginny sneered in disgust as she watched the older woman's resolve crumble. "He was able to knock out the others you and I had left behind, free the Weasley family, and steal their wands. When I arrived back to your home, I had to awaken them all, including Dolohov—" She nodded in his direction, "— and he told me what Draco had done. He and the Weasleys were all gone when I arrived, and... and now that Lucius has not answered your summons..."
"He must be in on the deceit," Voldemort murmured, fiddling with the Elder Wand as Bellatrix spoke. "How sweet, little saint. Draco must really think he lovesyou." Derision had crept into his voice, making Ginny flinch.
He turned to face her, grabbing her upper arms and making Nagini hiss in displeasure. "Did you know of this deception, or is this some foolish effort on his part to prove himself to you?"
Ginny shook her head, fighting nausea.
"No? No what?"
"I don't know."
Voldemort did not release his grip on her arms. He deliberately took a deep breath, his shoulders dropping as a wicked smile graced his handsome face.
"It does not matter," he said, his grip momentarily tightening on her arms. "It's like I told you many months ago now— he's an ant under my feet. An ant who thinks himself a dragon, apparently. A pity— a human head won't look nearly as good on my wall, but maybe I can Transfigure it—"
"No!" Ginny cried, trying and failing to pull out of his grip. "Please—"
"I'm done catering to you, little saint. Your family's lives are forfeit as well— they knew better than to escape."
Ginny wailed, and Voldemort smiled at her as he lifted one hand and ran his thumb along her jawline.
"They left you behind," he whispered. "They knew you were with me, and they ran away anyway. Some show of love, mm? No rescue attempts all summer, and then when I find them for you, you do everything in your power to protect them, and this is how they repay you… Maybe eleven-year-old you was right, after all. Maybe you really are the least-loved child."
He was lying… manipulating her. She knew that. But it was like the Horcruxes amplified the power of his words… They sunk inside her like weights dropped in the ocean, and she took a gasping breath as she fought the feeling of her chest collapsing in on itself. It wasn't true, it wasn't, it wasn't, she knew—
"Shh, shh, there, there," he crooned, though his eyes glinted with dark amusement. "They don't understand you, Ginny. They never did. But you don't need them anymore. Fate gave you to me to take care of, forever after. Don't worry— I won't ever leave you behind, my precious thing."
He let go of her, and she belatedly realized she was shaking. Nothing he was saying was true, it wasn't, she had asked Draco to get them out—
Nagini tightened her grip on Ginny's shoulders, and memories of Malfoy Manor flashed in her mind, of waiting day after day, week after week, for some sign, any sign at all, that her family was looking for her.
Voldemort leaned down, and for a horrible moment she was sure he was going to kiss her again, but he brought his lips to her ear instead.
"Your future begins today," he whispered, and a cold thrill of terror ran down her spine as he righted himself. She went to take a step back, to run, somewhere, anywhere, but he was already ahead of her. With a quick wave of the Elder Wand, thick tree roots from the surrounding forest surged forward over the ground toward her.
"Your throne, Queen of Queens," he said with a smirk, loud enough for the others to hear.
True to his word, the roots and vines braided themselves together behind her, forming a throne. One thick strand from each armrest rose up and wrapped themselves around her arms, pulling her into the seat and holding her down. She cried out as she fell, her back slamming against the roots.
"Well, isn't this familiar?" he continued, his smirk widening. "Third time's the charm, as they say. But this time we have an audience. Should we let them in on your little dreams, Ginny?"
"They're not my dreams," she panted, making him pause. "They're yours."
"Clever girl," he said after a moment. "How long have you known?"
"A while."
He smiled. "Too bad that knowledge can't do anything for you now." He waved the wand towards her, and she swallowed as her robes Transfigured themselves into the cream-colored gown he seemed to favor. The snake locket shone prominently on her chest, its emerald eyes glinting like Nagini's scales.
"A dress befitting your station," he declared. "But you're missing your gifts."
She felt the emerald crown settle on her head as the sketchbook materialized in her right hand. She squirmed, but the tree roots held her fast.
"Behold the fourth Deathly Hallow," Voldemort announced, turning to face the Death Eaters. "The Lady of Light."
The Death Eaters didn't seem to know how to respond. They mostly looked uncomfortable, though Ginny could see unbridled jealousy on Bellatrix's face.
Voldemort didn't seem to mind. "We'll wait for our signal," he said. "After which I shall dismiss you to look for both my treasure and for the boy. They both must be brought to me, do you understand?"
"Yes, my lord," they responded as one.
"Good," he said smoothly. "Then stand watch in the meantime— we may have a bit of a wait ahead of us."
He turned back to Ginny, who was still struggling against the vines.
"You don't need to fight any more, little saint. It's all over now." He walked closer to her, squatting down before the throne to be eye-level with her. He reached out to pet Nagini, who leaned forward into his touch.
"Don't you see?" he continued, eyes flicking to her face. "Your family chose Harry Potter over you. The first chance they got, they left you behind. Do you think even now, they're racing for Harry, racing to help him? Where was that devotion for you, hmm?"
"I wanted them to escape," she gasped, fighting the growing weight of the cup in her hands— it seemed to grow heavier the longer he spoke.
"Yes, and for them to take you with them," he agreed, stroking Nagini's head. "Seems like they forgot that part in their little scheme. Draco thought he was helping them, winning your favor, but he's really doomed them all to a terrible death. Such a tragedy—"
Tears fell, but her arms were bound, so she couldn't wipe them away.
"Please—"
"Shh," he whispered, wiping a tear off her cheek. "I already told you no more favors, remember? Their fate is sealed, and so is yours."
He stood up again, lifting his hand to finger the points of the tiara.
"This will do for now, but you'll have a new one soon," he said, his eyes distant— like he was remembering something.
The diadem. Harry had to destroy the diadem, because if he didn't, if Ginny had to wear it, she couldn't survive it, she couldn't—
"So very close to your dream self," he murmured. "Just missing a ring. Maybe that will be your final gift, once my enemies are dead." He smirked at her before turning away.
"Macnair!" he called.
Macnair hurried forward and knelt down. "Yes, my lord."
Voldemort turned back to Ginny once again, his eyes on her left arm. "If you have good news for me, Macnair, I swear I will reward you beyond the richest king. Give me that which I desire."
"I—I regret to inform, my lord, the magic is still not stable—"
Voldemort's face twisted into a snarl, but he mastered himself quickly. "Very well. You will stay behind, when the fighting starts in earnest. I will not risk your expertise on the battlefield. And when the day is done, we will accompany you on your research— perhaps having Ginny as a test subject will speed up the process. It will help, of course, that Draco Malfoy will be dead by that point. Perhaps the curse will be eager to seek a new master."
"O-of course, my lord," Macnair said, not rising from his kneeling position.
"You may rejoin the others."
Macnair stood up, bowed again, and hurried away, likely thankful that Voldemort hadn't seen fit to take his life for failing to deliver.
Voldemort closed his eyes and took another deep breath, once again deliberately relaxing his shoulders. "You should take the time to enjoy the autumn air. This will be the last time you'll be outside in a very long time."
She knew what he was doing. She knew he was trying to make her despair, to amplify the power of the cup and the snake, to make her resolve crumble away bit by bit. But knowing that didn't mean she could stop it from happening. The memory of being locked in a windowless room flashed unbidden in her mind, and her breathing grew shallow.
He smirked at her. "That's right. You can't fight it, no matter how hard you try. It's just like I told you in the very first dream I gave you— you know the truth, deep down. You were always going to end up here."
He walked closer to her again, closing the distance between them, and leaned down toward her.
"Wouldn't it be better to stop fighting?" he whispered, resting one hand on top of the throne. "You're in so much pain, and for what? For people who've abandoned you, or will soon, in death. It can all go away, if you only let it."
"No!" Ginny yelled, her voice scraping her throat as she threw her head back, ignoring Nagini's weight on her shoulders.
Voldemort's smirk grew wooden. "Still so stubborn, after everything. You really are remarkable, Ginny— I'm sorry your family didn't understand that—"
"You're lying!"
Maybe she was lying too. She was breaking, and he knew it.
"Not a lie," he said, eyes widening in mock sympathy. "I've shown you before that I can take your pain away. You're choosing to suffer. You can make a different choice."
Draco…
"Eyes on me," he snapped, and, on instinct, she looked up at him. "Don't disappear."
She looked at him, despair in her heart, and as she watched him, one of the swirling holes in his energy field fell dormant. Ginny stifled a gasp. Those holes were connected to the soul pieces— to the Horcruxes. If one of them disconnected…
That meant Harry had found the diadem. The Death Eaters hadn't broken the wards yet— Harry was still safe inside the castle. He had found the diadem, and destroyed it.
Voldemort was oblivious. He reached down and had the audacity to run his thumb over her lower lip.
"I'll agree that it's cruel to wipe out the entirety of your family in a single day. I'll allow you to pick two brothers to save— whichever two you think will be the most adaptable to the world that is coming. We'll spare them, and they'll go on to live happy little lives, and have lots of good pureblood children. Your dreams of the future can't come true if there aren't any Weasley descendants, can they?"
Her mind flashed on her dream of the theater, but seeing the result of the diadem's destruction had broken the spell she was under. Voldemort was not immortal. He was not invincible. He would die today, by Harry's hand or by her own. Her wrist would never read LV.
"What are you thinking, little saint?" he asked, cocking his head, and Ginny flinched. She couldn't let him see her resolve. As had been the case for so long now, she needed to play along.
"I… I don't know. My mind is blank. The dream—"
"That was a good one, wasn't it?" He ran his thumb over her lip again, and she resisted the urge to bite it. "You looked very pretty in that one. Not as pretty as this though— this is your natural state. Think now, on which brothers you want me to spare. Choose wisely."
Finally, he backed away from her, for real this time, and walked off towards Bellatrix.
Ginny took a few shaky breaths, focusing on the resolve deep in her heart.
I saw one of the holes in his aura shrivel up, she sent to Draco. It must be the diadem.
We can always count on Potter to save the day, huh?he responded in a wry tone, and Ginny had to bite back a laugh.
Where are you?
At the edge of the school. Waiting for my chance to slip inside.
Please be careful. Bellatrix told him about you saving my family.
Always.
SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997
Professor McGonagall assembled them all in the Great Hall— all the professors and staff and the Weasely family, along with the entire student body. Hurried murmurs went through the crowd at the sight of Harry standing beside her— some excited, some worried, and a smaller number resentful. Ron, Hermione, Kathleen, Neville, and Luna stood at his other side, a form of Dumbledore's Army brought back to life. Luna had tried to convince Zabini to stand with them, but he had insisted on sitting at the Slytherin table instead.
Harry didn't quite know what to make of Zabini— he was an ally, a solid one, but still a reluctant one at the end of the day. The Order was so full of idealists, for the most part— people committed entirely to the cause, even if they had different ways of going about showing that commitment. Mundungus Fletcher had been the only exception, and they all knew how that had turned out. But, whether Harry liked it or not, Zabini was the primary reason they had been able to find the diadem so quickly, saving them precious time and thus allowing McGonagall to call this meeting of the student body while the barrier still held. Zabini was just as much a member of Dumbledore's Army as the rest of them, based on that alone.
McGonagall spoke clearly out over the crowd, magically amplifying her voice. The students did not immediately quiet for her as they would have for Dumbledore, but it was perhaps due to the circumstances. When she announced that Lord Voldemort was in the process of attacking the school, the murmurs reached a fever pitch, muffling even her amplified voice.
They didn't have time for this.
"QUIET!" Harry yelled at the top of his lungs, and the voices of the crowd subsided in an instant. Harry stood quietly for a moment, his chest rising and falling with nervous energy, before he said, "We have a plan to protect you— to get you to safety. But we don't have time to waste. You have to listen to Professor McGonagall."
"We want to stay and fight!" yelled Seamus, to a not-insignificant smattering of cheers.
"We have a plan for that too, Mr. Finnegan," McGonagall said drily. She proceeded to give the staff directives. All students younger than seventeen were to be escorted through the Room of Requirement and out of the portrait that led to Aberforth Dumbledore, who had (reluctantly, Harry was sure) agreed to provide safe passage out of the school. Any who were seventeen and wished to fight could do so, at their own peril, but they were also free to leave along with the other students. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Zabini and Daphne Greengrass feverishly whispering at this point.
"Reinforcements are arriving as we speak," McGonagall continued. "From the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry of Magic itself. Hogwarts has held this land for over a thousand years, and we will not go down without a fight."
The crowd cheered, none louder than the Gryffindor table, and Harry's heart swelled with pride for his house even as dread lingered in his stomach. If he had his way, he would send everyone packing, even the professors… But Voldemort had assembled an entire army outside of Hogwarts' defensive barrier. Hundreds of people, even now, were casting spells to break the seals Professor McGonagall had established; Harry had no idea how long they would hold up. It could be hours still, or they could fall any minute.
Pansy Parkinson, he noticed, was also arguing with Daphne, seated on her other side. Harry furrowed his brow, wondering what they were talking about, before the Great Hall doors opened and a large group of witches and wizards began pouring in.
"Mum!"
Kathleen leapt off of the High Table dais, foregoing the stairs in her haste to reach her mother, who was running between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables toward her daughter. Cordelia Barrows embraced Kathleen with as much force as she could muster, burying her face in her daughter's shoulder as tears overtook her. The student body watched, dumbstruck.
"That's what you're fighting for," Harry called, acting on instinct. "For parents to be reunited with their children. For families to be safe. For us to have a future."
"Well-spoken, Mr. Potter!" Flitwick piped up, with an approving nod from Professor Sprout.
Lupin walked up behind Cordelia, putting a hand on her shoulder, and smiled at Harry, which made his chest fuzzy with pride. He knew, in his heart, that Lupin was thinking of James at that moment.
The professors began hurrying the younger students out of the hall in as orderly a fashion as they could manage, which meant there was still a lot of chaos. Following Kathleen's lead, Harry jumped down from the dais and hurried toward the middle of the room, where every living adult he had ever trusted had congregated: Lupin, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Tonks and her parents, and even Neville's gran all grouped together, embracing the Weasleys as they came forward. Others were there too, others Harry knew less well— Hestia Jones, and Dedalus Diggle, and others wearing Auror badges that Harry assumed Kingsley had brought along.
Ron and Hermione came to stand beside him, watching the congregation.
"It's really happening, isn't it?" Hermione said. "We're really going to fight."
"Yep," Harry said, his mouth dry. "Yep, it's really happening."
He exchanged greetings with the Order, but his heart wasn't really in it— he couldn't fully tear his attention away from his own pending demise. Once all the younger students were safe, and once McGonagall had their battle plans in place… then there would be nothing left to wait for.
"Alright, gather round," McGonagall said to the group. "The other professors will be back in a few minutes, but let's go over your placements…"
Harry made himself focus as McGonagall gave them positions to stand guard at various points along the grounds' perimeter, preparing for the inevitable invasion. She herself would activate Hogwarts' internal defenses, which she looked positively giddy about but would not describe them further, and the professors would use their various talents to slow the Death Eaters down— Professor Sprout was quick to volunteer her Venomous Tentacula for the job, along with her Snargaluff Pods. Hagrid was eager to unleash the Blast-Ended Skrewts, something Harry was sure the Death Eaters would be entirely unprepared for. Order members and Aurors would do what they did best— dueling. Harry's stomach clenched at the thought, but he didn't see how to avoid it. Even after he died, Voldemort wouldn't stop his onslaught in looking for the diadem, and Ron and Hermione would need time to get to the cup and to Nagini, and to get Ginny free. A full-scale battle would buy them that time, and distract the Death Eaters from their true purpose. He could only hope that Voldemort's elation at slaying his enemy at last would make him sloppy with the other Horcruxes, or that his arrogance would let him believe that Harry did not know what, exactly, the diadem was.
"Any final words, Potter?"
Harry jolted, alarmed, before realizing McGonagall meant any final words before they all split up for their assigned stations.
"Uh. Yes— your lives are valuable," he said, fighting to keep the quaver out of his voice. "Do what you have to to protect the school, but don't take stupid risks— I don't want anyone dying on my watch if I can help it. We all know what we're fighting for, and what's at stake… this is going to be the fight of our lives. But Dumbledore believed in each and every one of you… and so do I. I couldn't ask for a better group to fight alongside."
"Cheers to that!" Fred called, and a resounding "hear, hear!" went through the group before they began to separate.
"Come on," Ron said, nodding toward the Great Hall doors. "Let's head out, yeah?"
Harry was stationed with Ron and Hermione. He would end this fight just like he had started it— with Ron and Hermione by his side.
They would be off to the western edge of the castle. Harry suspected McGonagall had placed him there to keep him away from the heart of the fighting, but she had to know that he wouldn't stay there.
The trio walked in silence, and Harry smiled to himself as Ron reached for Hermione's hand. They were sweet together. It was good that they had each other, for… after.
His heart pinched as his mind's eye filled with the image of Ginny. He would never get to say goodbye to her— not really. He would never hold her hand again, never kiss her again— never find out if she even wanted to kiss him again.
Malfoy would protect her. That was some small, terrible consolation— assuming Malfoy even survived the battle. Was he stuck outside the barrier, with the Death Eaters? Had he even shown up?
Hermione gasped when they stepped outside the castle and saw the army pressing against the distant barrier.
"So many…"
"Is that a fucking giant?" Ron exclaimed, mouth open.
"More than one of them," Harry replied, swallowing hard. There were three that Harry could see, though with how they were backed up against the Forbidden Forest, there could be more. The afternoon sun didn't allow them to hide against the barrier, but the forest was always dark— Voldemort could have anything hidden inside it.
"Do you think the centaurs will fight?" Hermione asked, following his gaze. "I haven't seen Firenze."
"No," Harry said, recalling Bane's admonishment from so long ago. "They won't interfere."
Apprehensive but determined, the three of them assumed their position toward the western edge, wands gripped tightly, and waited. Spells of all kinds fired at the barrier, making it wobble and shake like a giant soap bubble on the verge of popping.
"That won't hold for long," Ron said grimly.
No, it wouldn't. Ron and Hermione needed to know what he did before it burst.
"You both have basilisk fangs, right?"
Ron and Hermione nodded. "Yes, let me give you one—"
"I don't—"
He started to say he didn't need one. But who knew— maybe he would get a chance to destroy the cup or the snake before dying himself.
"Would you rather have the sword?" Hermione continued, oblivious. "I thought the fangs would be easier— they're smaller, easier to hide. But if you want the—"
"No," Harry said quickly. "No, that makes sense. I'll take one."
Hermione pulled a fang out of her bag and handed it to him. His mind flashed on the Chamber of Secrets— so many years ago now, he had rescued Ginny from Voldemort's clutches. Would he get to do so again?
"What's on your mind, Harry?" Ron said, catching his eye.
"Just… just preparing for the fight."
Ron frowned, and Harry sighed.
"Listen. There's going to come a moment where I have to—"
"Don't say it!" Hermione said shrilly. "Don't say it."
"Not saying it doesn't make it not true," Harry snapped. "It was Dumbledore's plan all along."
"What do you mean, mate?"
His jaw tight, he explained what had happened with Snape, all the memories that had been revealed to him— about Snape's childhood, about his own parents, about Snape's role as a triple agent for Dumbledore… and about his own impending death.
Hermione was frowning, her cheeks flushed. "How do we know we can even trust Snape? He murdered Dumbledore—"
"You didn't see the memories, Hermione. They're real. Dumbledore planned it all out, as best he could, anyway."
"What if Snape faked it—" Ron started.
"And he just happened to know that I have a piece of Voldemort's soul inside me, when Voldemort himself doesn't know it?" Harry interrupted. "No way."
"So what are you saying, then?" Hermione said, her voice tremulous.
Harry took a deep breath. "When the barrier comes down, I'm going into the Forbidden Forest… and I'm not coming back out." They both started to protest, but he spoke louder, talking over them. "You'll likely have to take out the cup and Nagini still. I'll do my best, but I might not be able to manage it. Get the others in on it if you have to— Neville, and Luna, and Kathleen, and whoever else. You can do it— I believe in you."
"Oh Harry!" Hermione burst into tears and threw her arms around him. Ron embraced him too mere seconds later, and Harry's heart felt like it would burst from how much it hurt.
"This can't be the way it's supposed to end," Ron said thickly, and Harry realized he too was crying. "It's not… it's not fair…"
"I know," Harry said, fighting back his own tears. "I know. But without this… he won't die. And he'll never stop fighting— never. It has to end today, it just has to. Even though… even though…"
He was crying now. Even though he wouldn't get to see the end result. He would just have to have faith— have faith in his friends, have faith in the Order… have faith in Dumbledore, even from beyond the grave.
"We'll go with you," Hermione choked.
"No!" Harry pulled out of their grip. "You can't. You stay here and fight, and take him out after I'm gone. If you go with me, you'll die too, and then there goes our best chance of destroying the remaining Horcruxes. You have to survive, the both of you."
"It always goes this way…" Ron murmured, his cheeks blotchy. "With the stone, and the chamber, and the tournament… we could go with you part of the way, but in the end you always faced him alone, and you always succeeded, even when you thought it was impossible. Maybe this time, something will go right too— maybe somehow you'll make it out."
Harry's chest was so tight he couldn't breathe. He did not have the heart to shatter the hopeful expression on Ron's face and tell him that no, this time he would not make it out.
"Yeah," he said instead, the words like ash in his mouth. "Yeah, maybe so."
Hermione grabbed his hand, and then grabbed Ron's. "We stick together for as long as we can. We fight together. We defeat Voldemort together."
Ron grabbed Harry's other hand, and Harry took this moment to savor the warmth of their skin, to savor the love he felt for them and they for him, and an odd sort of peace settled in his chest. The trepidation was there too— the dread of the inevitable hadn't gone away— but there was a sort of calmness there too, a certainty in Ron and Hermione's love for him. It was always going to end this way— how lucky he had been, really, to get to know them all these years, to have friends who loved him so very very much. It was a blessing, and now he would make the ultimate sacrifice in order to save their lives. It would be worth it.
A horrible warbling noise sounded, like an airplane flying too low to the ground, and Harry watched as the bubble around Hogwarts burst and dissipated, allowing Death Eaters to pour onto the grounds.
The battle had begun.
SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997
Draco watched as the barrier fell, his heart pounding in his chest. His mother put her hand on his shoulder and, on instinct, he rested his free hand over hers.
He hadn't been able to see clearly through the barrier when it was up, but now that it was down, he could see little clusters of people flung all across the grounds. That was frustrating— how could he protect the Weasleys if they were scattered everywhere?
"We can't just go running in," his father said, taking a step forward and surveying the ground. "We'll be fighting enemies on both sides. We need a strategy."
"Get me to Potter," Draco said, his grip on his wand tightening. "Or one of his two friends. They'll vouch for me. Then…"
"Then the chaos begins," his mother finished, an uncharacteristic smirk in her voice— even maybe a little anticipatory excitement. He looked over his shoulder at her, and it struck him in that moment that she truly was Bellatrix Lestrange's sister.
"Let's go, then," his father said, tapping his head with his wand and Disillusioning himself. "We stay hidden, you understand? Until you find Potter."
Draco Disillusioned himself, his mind on the sea.
Hold on, Ginny— I'll see you so, so soon. I love you. I'm coming.