SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997

Almost immediately, there was chaos, and carnage soon followed. Everywhere Harry looked, people were dueling. He moved without thinking, sending Stunner after Stunner at any attacker within range. Ron and Hermione were equally ferocious at his sides, moving so quickly that their arms seemed to blur beside him. They moved forward, but they didn't get very far onto the field. Blasts of spell-fire arced through the air, painting a rainbow of colors around him as Harry ducked behind a pillar, gasping for breath after firing off another volley of spells of his own.

"They're clearly looking for you," Hermione panted at his side, ignoring the cries of, "Where's Potter? I just saw him! Look that way!" from beyond them.

"Yeah," Harry said, ignoring the stitch in his chest. "Maybe I can draw their fire."

The bulk of the people on Voldemort's front lines weren't Death Eaters, and they were not very bright from what Harry could tell, but they had no scruples about firing off Killing Curses left and right. Every second this fight stretched on was another opportunity for the innocent to die. But Dumbledore had said that Voldemort had to be the one to land the killing blow...

Harry dared to glance around the stone pillar's edge and grimaced at the sight of the battlefield that had rapidly taken shape. It was a sea of bodies, both friend and foe, with Acromantulas and giants mixed in— all fighting. All fighting to end something they couldn't hope to stop themselves. No, that was all on Harry— the sooner he died, the sooner everyone else would live.

"We should join up with Bill and Tonks," Ron said from his other side. "They were closest to us, and then we can push—"

"I don't want you to push," Harry interrupted, his heartbeat a staccato in his chest as he turned to look at his oldest friend. "You two should stay out of the thick of it— you're too important to lose."

Ron blanched. "Is this the moment then? Already?"

"The sooner it's over, the sooner it can be over." Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Cover me, so I can get past this group, then protect who you can but stay out of the main path, do you understand?"

"Harry—"

"Hermione, do you understand?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Alright." Another deep breath. "Stay safe."

If he stalled any longer, he would lose his nerve. He threw the invisibility cloak over himself and launched around the other side of the pillar. Hermione and Ron, true to their word, hurried along behind him before running the opposite direction, firing spells at the enemy wizards and drawing them out of Harry's path.

Doing so allowed Harry to see the bodies left behind from the skirmish— a couple of Voldemort's men, but an Auror too. A lump formed in Harry's throat as he saw the man's cold, expressionless eyes looking up at him as he passed. His lips were parted, like he had been on the verge of saying something before he died. A spell, or perhaps a cry for help?

I shouldn't look too closely, he admonished himself before pushing forward, gripping his wand tightly. Looking too closely into the face of Death would surely send him running to the illusion of safety in Gryffindor Tower, no matter the consequences. Wouldn't that be lovely? Just one more lazy afternoon spent in Gryffindor Tower, laughing with his friends...

But it was not to be.

He ducked past another group of fighters, surreptitiously shooting a nonverbal tripping jinx at one to give Remus better aim.

Remus... Tonks was pregnant. Tonks was pregnant, and here, and fighting. It took everything in Harry not to rip the cloak off and join Remus where he stood, fighting against a Death Eater Harry didn't recognize. Some part of him longed to be a soldier, just another person on the front lines, fighting for his friends, for his family. Wasn't that what he was good at? Why he had led the DA in the first place?

But he had been set apart, by prophecy and by fate. He and Ginny both had.

Ginny had seen the face of Death, he mused as he continued to push forward, his eyes on the distant tree line. Despite what logic would tell them, Death was a literal figure, and Ginny had met him. Her. It.

Death had given Ginny four gifts, and Voldemort had stolen three of them. Ginny still had the fourth. The light. Would Harry get a chance to see it in person? Was Ron right—would Ginny be able to save him, after all?

He shook his head. He shouldn't think like that. This burden was his to bear, and his alone. He could not count on anyone to rescue him now. What role Ginny would play in Voldemort's defeat, he did not know, but he knew that she could not die for him, and he knew that he had to die.

The walk toward the forest seemed never-ending. He passed many groups of fighters, and many bodies. Most he didn't recognize, but he had had to fight back a gag at the sight of Lavender Brown, bloodied and still on the ground before him. It seemed like only yesterday that she had been giving Ron a hard time in the common room, only yesterday that he had heard her giggling with Parvati over their tea leaves... only yesterday that she had joined Dumbledore's Army, and Harry had taught her defensive magic. She had always been a good student. Had he not taught her properly? Was this his fault—

"Are you sure this is it?"

Harry turned to see a scraggly-looking man he didn't recognize dangling Ravenclaw's diadem by one end, looking skeptical.

"He said a tiara, didn't he?" the man's equally scruffy-looking companion said indignantly. "That there is a tiara."

"Looks kinda beat-up, don't it? What the hell would the Dark Lord want with this old thing—"

The man snatched the diadem out of the other's hands. "We don't get paid to ask questions. You heard the Dark Lord—I'll reward you beyond your wildest dreams. Let's go tell 'im."

"And what if we're wrong, eh? I don't fancy meself being on the wrong side of a Killing Curse. Maybe we should find Mulciber first, have him check it out."

"And have him steal our glory? Have him steal our gold?"

Voldemort did not know that the diadem had been destroyed. That was good. That would buy Harry time.

Forcing Lavender Brown out of his mind, Harry hurried forward. As he moved, somehow the anxiety began to fall away. He had a purpose. He had a mission. Hadn't he always done best when that was the case? It was what had allowed him to excel in Quidditch, after all. Could this be like that? Catching the Snitch one more time... ending the game at the right moment...

Finally, he reached the edge of the forest, and, stepping under the shadow of the trees, Harry prayed for the very first real time in his life.

Please be with me...


SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997

The Hogwarts grounds were madness. Even under the cover of Disillusionment, Draco had to dodge spell after spell, and had nearly screamed when a dead Acromantula fell into his path, inches from crushing him. His cousin Nymphadora's eyes gleamed in triumph over her kill and, none the wiser, she ran off, leaving the Malfoys behind.

"We need to take cover," Father demanded, breathing hard. "We can't stay like this."

"I have to find Potter."

"Do you see Potter anywhere?"

No. No he didn't. But he was here, he had to be...

"Isn't that his little friend, over there?" Mother asked. Thanks to their Disillusionment, Draco couldn't see where she was pointing, but looking past the Acromantula's corpse, he finally caught a glimpse of Hermione Granger's riotous curls.

"Yes! Come on." Draco raced forward, around the dead Acromantula, and shouted, "Confringo!", aiming right at Rowle, who was blasted backwards off his feet.

Granger whirled around, eyes wide, and Draco dispelled the Disillusionment Charm.

"Malfoy!"

"Fancy seeing you here. Where's Potter?"

"He..." Granger hesitated.

"Out with it, Granger."

Granger glared at him. "He went to take care of a problem. The one you told us about."

Draco's eyes widened. "Do you mean—"

"You traitor! Get the Malfoy brat, quickly!"

That was Jugson. Granger whirled around again, wand raised to defend them against a small horde of Snatchers, when something Draco couldn't see went whistling through the air. The ground exploded under Jugson's feet; Draco covered his face with his arm, blocking his vision from the dirt that sprayed everywhere. The men screamed, and then came another blast, and they screamed no more.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Granger exclaimed.

"Just a little something I cooked up."

A grin on his face, Draco turned to see his father standing behind him, tossing a glass orb filled with dark purple smoke.

"Thank you, Father!"

"No one threatens my son and gets away with it," Father said with all the imperiousness he could muster as Mother too dispelled her Disillusionment Charm.

"You're all here to fight with us?" Granger asked, incredulity in her voice.

"Today is a strange day," Father said, taking a step toward her. "But we can talk about all the implications later. Now, Miss Granger, if you wouldn't mind— take us to whoever's commanding this operation. The Order of the Phoenix needs to know not to fire on my family."

"The Order of the Phoenix needs to know we're here to help them," Mother corrected, and Draco knew Father was holding back an eye-roll.

"Most everyone is out on the field, but I can try to get you to McGonagall— just stay close to me."

Granger started to jog, wand held at the ready, and Draco hurried along beside her.

"How long ago did Potter leave?"

"Not long. Maybe ten minutes ago."

"I'll... I'll tell her."

Ginny, he sent, fighting back his fear as he tapped into the bond and felt her own sense of terror and dread. Potter is on his way to you. He knows what has to happen. It'll... it'll be over soon.

Harry... she murmured, her voice faint.

What's wrong? Are you hurt?

No... Just... just tired.

Please hang on, he pleaded as he dodged the swing of a giant's club. We're all fighting— it will be over soon.

Draco...

What?

Protect my family...

Of course. I'm with Granger now— I'll find your family again soon.

I love you...

I love you too, he said, a lump in his throat. This would not be the last time he said it. It wouldn't. Part of him wanted to say it over and over again, a never-ending litany to fill the bridge between them, a constant reminder to Ginny that she wasn't alone, she was never alone, never never never—

But that was a little difficult to do in the middle of a battlefield. "Reducto!" he yelled, blasting yet another Acromantula, who hissed at him as it went flying through the air and landed on its back.

"Disgusting things," he muttered, keeping pace with Granger, his parents not far behind. "Granger, Ginny wants me to find her family. Where are they?"

"All spread out, I think. Ron and Bill are with Kingsley— let's head for them."

A sudden boom to their right sounded as the base of one of Hogwarts' towers exploded, sending shattered stone flying through the air.

"Look out!" Draco grabbed Granger's wrist and yanked her away from the blast, his grip tight enough to leave a bruise. Stone tumbled down before them, with a few errant pebbles landing harmlessly at their feet. They both paused for a moment afterward, panting. Slowly, Draco let go of her wrist, and she reached down to rub it with her other hand.

"Th-thank you," she stuttered.

"Don't mention it."

"If anyone were to tell me that one day you would save my life—"

"I said don't mention it, Granger," he said with a roll of his eyes, and she actually had the audacity to laugh at him as he scanned the battlefield.

There, right in the thick of it, was a mess of red hair. The Weasleys were exactly where Ginny didn't want them to be, all grouped up together, surrounded by Death Eaters.

"Damn it," he cursed. "Come on, Granger, let's—"

But Mother was already ahead of him. With a fury and energy he had never seen in her before, she went running forward, wand drawn, and bellowed, "Expulso!"

That knocked over Travers, Rowle, and three Snatchers, giving the Weasleys an in to hex the others, who fell quickly in the chaos. Arthur Weasley looked around, bewildered, and his eyes widened at the sight of Narcissa Malfoy dusting her hands off, a satisfied grin on her face. Draco couldn't hear what she said from this distance, but Arthur Weasley's eyebrows about shot into his hairline before he reluctantly shook Narcissa's hand.

"Your mother always was the more diplomatic one," Father mused, coming to stand by his son. "Maybe we should let her do the talking."

"No time," Draco said roughly before hurrying forward, coming to stop beside his mother. "I'm glad you—"

He didn't get to finish his statement, for, to his shock, Molly Weasley had run up and hugged him. He stood, frozen, entirely thrown off by her embrace.

"I don't know what's going on between you and my daughter," she said in a stern voice, "but without you, we never would have made it out of there, and very well might have been killed. Thank you."

"I. Um. Yep," he mumbled, his face growing red. She held the hug long enough that he contemplated asking for her to stop, but finally, she released him.

"So the Malfoys are Team Potter now, eh?" Fred asked, a glint of amusement in his eye.

"Don't let my husband hear you say that, but yes— we go where our son goes."

"So Draco's Team Potter," George added.

Draco grimaced. "In the broadest sense of the term, I guess you could say that. Listen— I need to get you all to safety—"

"What?" Charlie interrupted. "Malfoy, there's a war on. There's no such thing as safety."

Draco's grimace deepened. "If I can get you all into the castle—"

"But we have to protect the castle from the Death Eaters!"

"Listen," Draco said, growing exasperated. "Ginny wants me to get you to safety—"

"Have you seen Ginny?" Mrs. Weasley asked desperately, clasping his hand in hers and making him flinch. "Since you freed us, have you seen her?"

"No," he said in a measured tone. "But I can... talk to her. Look, it's complicated, and there's not a lot of time—"

"I think there's enough time for this, boy."

Draco turned to see Greyback grinning wickedly at him from maybe twenty feet away, and he barely had time to cast a Shield Charm against Greyback's Crucio.

"Leave my son alone, you disgusting animal!" Mother snarled, and then she did something that shocked Draco. She cast the Killing Curse with all the same viciousness that her sister possessed. Green light arced forward, and Greyback's lupine face was still lined with shock as he crumpled to the ground, dead.

"Mother," Draco managed, unable to say anything else.

"You didn't think I was just going to stand here, did you?"

"N-no, but—"

"Now, now, Draco—" Father said, coming to stand beside them. "You know your mother's always been able to take care of herself. Don't look so shocked."

It took Draco a moment to notice that the front of Father's robes were streaked with blood. Lucius followed his gaze, raising an eyebrow at his son.

"I figure now's as good a time as any to settle old grudges," he said with a practiced shrug, as though they were discussing the weather.

"We still need to get to Ron and Bill," Granger said. "They're with Kingsley, last I saw. Toward the courtyard."

"Then let's push that way," Mr. Weasley said grimly, lifting his wand. "Stick together!"


SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997

Ginny's sense of triumph at the sight of Lord Voldemort one Horcrux weaker was short-lived. For a little while, he ignored her, talking to Bellatrix and Snape instead, and while the effects of Nagini and the cup were weaker without his words to guide them, sitting here doing nothing left her with very little distraction.

They were almost like Dementors, she mused. They brought forth every fear, every wretched thought, every bit of sadness and pain and despair. Going with that metaphor, she kept her mind's eye focused on the image of a horse, galloping free, remembering the sight of her own Patronus as she had cast it in the Room of Requirement for the very first time. If she just focused on the sight of that horse, she could hold onto happiness— hold onto herself.

It worked for a little while. Soon, though, men came barreling into the clearing— some of Greyback's followers, she thought. She screamed at the sight of Hagrid, bound, bloody, and beaten, being dragged behind them by thick ropes like he was a wild animal.

Voldemort laughed in delight at that, his dark eyes flicking between her and Hagrid, before lazily decreeing that his most trusted lieutenants shouldn't be denied all the fun of battle, and that these Snatchers had found them a ready target.

The cursing began in earnest, and Hagrid roared, and Ginny screamed, struggling against her bindings. Nagini hissed and closed her mouth around Ginny's upper arm in warning— not biting hard enough to puncture the skin, but hard enough that Ginny froze in terror.

"No no no no no—"

Her eyes were screwed shut, trying to block out the onslaught of horror, which meant that she didn't see Lord Voldemort approach her.

"Do you want it to stop?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yes, yes, please make it stop, please make it stop—"

"Should I listen to you, though? You haven't been listening to me."

"Yes I have, yes I have—"

"No, darling— you haven't yielded to me."

Hagrid's screams were so hoarse his voice was breaking.

"Tell me what you want and I'll do it!" Ginny begged, her body feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds. She couldn't open her eyes— she couldn't bear to see the reality around her. She couldn't cover her ears— her arms were bound.

"Swear it to me," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. "Swear allegiance to me, here and now, and I'll tell them to stop."

"I swear..."

"Go on."

What did it really matter, anyway? All her lofty ideals fell away in the face of pain of a loved one. They were just words...

"I swear allegiance to the Dark Lord. I am his to command."

He sucked in a sharp breath, and Ginny looked down at her lap. So heavy... so very heavy...

"Good," he murmured, running a finger along the side of her neck. "No more pain— it will be over soon. We'll go home very soon, and then you can rest."

Ginny didn't have the energy to say anything. Her horse Patronus was so far away... like she was looking through the wrong end of a telescope...

"That's enough!" Voldemort snapped, and the curses ceased. She felt rather than saw him move away from her, and her head dipped lower, her chin resting on her chest. Maybe... maybe if she just didn't open her eyes again, she wouldn't have to see...

Ginny.

Draco's voice. From across the bridge. From across the sea... an eternity away...

Potter is on his way to you. He knows what has to happen. It'll... it'll be over soon.

Harry would die. She would watch it happen.

Harry...

What's wrong? Are you hurt?

He couldn't know. He couldn't know, because if he did, he would come rushing to her, and then he would die...

No... Just... just tired.

Please hang on. We're all fighting— it will be over soon.

Draco...

What?

Protect my family...

Of course. I'm with Granger now— I'll find your family again soon.

I love you...

I love you too.

She wanted to say more— wanted to say how much it meant to her, that he was fighting for her, that he had betrayed every value he had ever been taught to hold, all for her. But everything was so heavy...

And she would have to watch Harry die.

Holding back tears, she opened her eyes at last and looked in Hagrid's direction. They had tied his ropes to two different trees, holding him upright between them. He looked unconscious, but she could see that he was breathing. That was good. Perhaps he would make it out of this alive, somehow.

Nagini adjusted her position on Ginny's shoulders, having finally withdrawn her bite, and Ginny realized with a start that if Harry died now, there were two Horcruxes still in play. Someone else would have to destroy them. Did Ron or Hermione have the means to destroy a Horcrux, or would Harry be carrying it with him? Draco had said they had basilisk venom... how on Earth had they managed to get their hands on some? She could only hope that they had enough to go around.

Time passed— Ginny couldn't have said how long, with how hazy she felt— but it was not long before Harry Potter entered the clearing. He walked in so quietly, so casually, that it took a moment for the Death Eaters to realize who, exactly, had entered their midst. They backed away from him, wands drawn, and Voldemort laughed in delight.

"I knew you would come here, Harry Potter."

"Hello, Tom."

Ginny's heart twisted in agony at the sound of his voice— she hadn't heard it in so, so long. And, worse yet, she knew now beyond a doubt that Draco was right— Harry carried a piece of Voldemort's soul inside him. The swirling black mass within his chest seemed to mock her, hovering right over his heart.

But the black mass wasn't Harry. No, Harry's aura was a beautiful light silver... just like a Patronus. Ginny gasped with how tightly her chest hurt at that realization— she had been hanging onto hope, hanging onto the memory of her Patronus, of Harry teaching her to cast a Patronus... and now here he was, a real-life Patronus coming to the rescue.

Coming to die.

Harry looked past Voldemort, ignoring him, and held eye contact with Ginny. Kind, warm eyes... the same eyes she had dreamed about while strapped to Rookwood's table. He had always been a beacon of hope for her, always, even in the darkest of moments...

And now she would watch that light be extinguished.

Voldemort followed Harry's gaze, looking back over his shoulder at Ginny, and smirked at her.

"She looks a little different than you remember, doesn't she? She's had a busy few months— my little saint. Say hello, Ginny."

"Harry," she whispered, holding back tears.

Harry said nothing, merely held her gaze, and she read the question in his eyes. He knew she could see, just like Draco could see. She nodded, and he gave her a curt nod in return. He knew.

"No heartfelt confessions of love?" Voldemort asked sarcastically. "Isn't that usually what the hero does during these situations? Rescuing the damsel in distress?"

"Ginny doesn't need me to rescue her," Harry said faintly, and Ginny's eyes widened. That was what they had fought about, so many times before. In his final moments, Harry was seeing her, really seeing her, for the very first time.

He didn't think she needed to be rescued. Was he right, even after everything?

Voldemort, oblivious, continued, "You're quite right. She's perfectly safe right where she is. Don't worry, Harry, I'll take good care of her after you're gone. It's so noble, isn't it Ginny, that he's come to turn himself in—"

"I didn't say that," Harry interrupted, and then, faster than Ginny could blink, he was running straight towards her, giving Voldemort a wide berth.

"What are you—" Voldemort spluttered, but he wasn't surprised for long. "Crucio!"

"Protego!"

The Cruciatus bounced harmlessly off of Harry's Shield Spell. Bellatrix took a step forward, wand raised, but Voldemort bellowed, "Leave him! The boy is mine!"

That was the distraction Harry needed. He picked up speed, still running straight for Ginny, and she fought the urge to tell him to run away, that he couldn't free her, she was trapped—

Nagini lunged forward off of Ginny's shoulder, jaws gaping, ready to defend her master's prized possession, and in one fluid motion, Harry slid a basilisk fang out of his sleeve, into his hand, and stabbed it right into the roof of Nagini's mouth. Ginny screamed as hot blood spattered all over her and Nagini thrashed around her. Harry twisted the basilisk fang, grim determination on his face, and Nagini fell still.

Time seemed to stop for a moment as Harry looked up at her, his face too spattered in blood. It was just like before. He had saved her from a giant snake under the command of Lord Voldemort, had pierced it right through its mouth. A million unspoken things passed between them— regret and longing and even love. The psychic weight of the Horcrux left her as Nagini died, and Harry nodded at her once again. He started to reach for the cup, but was immediately blasted back by an erratic Lord Voldemort. He went flying away from her, landing on the ground with a dull thud.

"No!" she cried out.

"No more of this," Voldemort hissed, his handsome features marred by fury. "Avada Kedavra."

Green light shot forward like a crack of lightning, and Ginny watched, helpless, as it struck Harry's body.

Harry's body jerked from the impact, and Voldemort collapsed to the ground as the spell struck, apparently unconscious. Their auras both seemed to waver, blinking out of existence for a moment before returning to their usual hue.

The Death Eaters all stared at each other, uncertain. Ginny was breathing hard, Nagini's corpse still draped over her shoulders, leaking blood. What the hell had just happened?

"Do we—" Yaxley started, but Voldemort was already stirring, rising to his feet. Bellatrix hurried forward to help him stand, but he yanked his arm away from her grip.

"Leave me," he snapped, sounding shaken. "You cost me my servant, Bellatrix. I don't need any more of your misplaced help."

Clearly hurt, Bellatrix bowed her head and backed away, murmuring apologies.

Voldemort looked over in Harry's direction, but remained where he stood.

"Severus," he said, soft as a whisper. "Check the body."

Did he think Harry wasn't really dead? Ginny squinted, staring at the body. His aura still glowed. Wouldn't it go away if he was dead? But then, Ginny had never seen a dead body with the second sight, not even Nicholas Malfoy in Alys's vision... Maybe someone's aura stuck around after death? Was that possible? The black spot in his chest was gone, but the silver... the silver remained.

She held her breath, afraid to hope, and as Snape knelt down next to Harry, her palms grew sweaty around the cup and the sketchbook.

Please, please, please...

Snape rose to his feet. "Dead," he declared, turning to face Voldemort, and Ginny let out a wail.

All rage disappeared from Voldemort's face, replaced by an absolutely rapturous joy. He let out a wordless yell, throwing his wand arm up high and releasing a wordless blast of magic that rattled through the air above them like thunder.

"Lord Voldemort is triumphant at last!" he called. "My enemy is defeated. Nothing stands in my way now!"

The Death Eaters shouted their congratulations, extolling the virtues of their lord and master, though they were partially drowned out by the depths of Hagrid's sobs. Annoyed, Voldemort pointed the Elder Wand at him and Hagrid fell silent; he had cast a nonverbal Silencing Charm.

"Blithering fool," he said, disgust in his tone. "Harry Potter was no match for me, Hagrid, you had to have known that... though you were always blindly loyal to Dumbledore. You never did have very good judgment."

"What shall we do now, my lord?" Snape asked, ignoring Hagrid.

"Reclaim Hogwarts, of course. They will stop fighting once they see the boy's body. Their symbol has been broken. I still need to secure my treasure, and once that is done, and any straggling rebels are dealt with... then we can go home."

He turned to face Ginny, a feral delight turning his face almost skeletal.

"Did that upset you?" he murmured, striding toward her, his robes billowing behind him. "To watch your great love die? He did try to save you in the end, but he failed, as he was always going to. It was fate."

He hadn't failed. He hadn't been trying to save her. He had intended to kill Nagini, and he had succeeded, but the cup was still here in her hand...

It was the last one, she realized. So close, and yet so far...

Voldemort squatted down in front of her, reaching forward to rest his hand on Nagini's inert body. Momentary anguish crossed his face, surprising Ginny, but that anguish quickly turned to anger at the sight of the basilisk fang wedged into Nagini's mouth.

"Now how do you suppose he got this?" he asked, yanking the fang out, splattering more blood everywhere. "Another little trip down to the Chamber? How clever for him to have figured it out..." He looked up at Ginny, his dark eyes alight with malice, and she gulped. "Let us hope that my diadem is still intact, Ginny... otherwise, someone will have to pay the price, and seeing as Harry Potter is dead... I'll have to find myself a new target."

Ginny bit her lip, and he smiled at her.

"He ruined your pretty dress," he continued, tilting his head a bit as he observed her. "We can't have that, not on this special day." With a wave of his wand, Nagini's body disappeared, flickering into nonexistence, and the blood all across Ginny's front faded from view. Slowly, the vines holding Ginny's arms to the makeshift throne retreated, and he grabbed her wrists, pulling her to her feet as he stood up. Nausea instantly rolled through her as he gripped the edge of the tattoo.

It was lighter now though, without Nagini. The cup was still heavy, but it was bearable.

"Can you walk?"

Ginny nodded.

"Use your words."

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, my lord."

He smiled again. "Good." Looking over his shoulder, he said, "Rookwood. Unless someone's already had the pleasure, you'll be the one to kill the Malfoy traitors. I know how you chafed under Lucius's command, years ago— this will be a good little opportunity for revenge, no?"

"Yes, my lord! Thank you, my lord."

Without thinking, Ginny grabbed onto Voldemort's wrists, pulling his attention back to her. "No—"

"Be quiet. Macnair. Come here."

Macnair hurried over. "Yes, my lord?"

"Examine her tattoo. Does the Malfoy boy still live?"

Macnair hesitantly reached for Ginny's arm, examining the markings.

"I believe so, my lord. The magic is the same."

"Good. All the better for Rookwood."

"Why are you doing this?" Ginny demanded, struggling to yank her arms free, fighting nausea. "You already won. You already got everything you wanted. Why are you trying to hurt me?"

He nodded at Macnair, who bowed his head and backed away. Then, looking back at her, he dropped her wrists and cupped her face in his hands instead.

"Because," he said slowly, holding eye contact with her, "those who defy me need to be punished. Draco is among that number. I need you to understand the consequences of people trying to take you away from me." He glanced down at the cup, which, thanks to the tattoo, was still gripped tightly in her left hand. "I have lost enough things today, little saint. I will not lose any more, you among them."

The urge to spit in his face had never been stronger, not even on the night she had received the tattoo, but somehow she held it back. The day wasn't over. There was still a possibility, still a chance, to destroy the cup, and then... then he could die, finally.

"We'll have the half-giant carry the body," he called, dropping her face and turning to look at the Death Eaters. "We march on Hogwarts together."

"Yes, my lord!"

Yaxley and Dolohov hurried over to the still-Silenced Hagrid, and the others turned to walk forward, toward the school.

"Stay next to me, Ginny," Voldemort whispered, urging her forward. "It's time for the world to see you in your rightful place."

She glanced over at Harry's body, at the silver glow that still lined his form, and took a deep breath.

It's done, she sent to Draco as she started walking. He killed Nagini as well— there's only the cup left. We're headed toward the school. He wants to... to show the body—

Merlin, Draco murmured, and she felt the soft touch of ocean waves lapping at her through their bond. I'm so sorry, Ginny. I know it had to happen, but… I'm so sorry.

Nagini died right on top of me, she said numbly, her vision momentarily going blurry. He stabbed her, and she was right on top of me… her blood was so hot…

The intensity of the ocean waves increased.

I'm here with you. It ends today, just like you said, remember? Only one more day of horror.

We hope.

No, I know it. I believe in you.

What if I can't do it? The cup is still here—

We all have basilisk fangs, thanks to Granger. We'll get it.

But… what if I can't do it?

Her deepest fear, the one she had never allowed herself to even think on before. What if she had been gifted all of this power, and she couldn't use it correctly? What if she screwed the whole thing up?

You can, Draco said soothingly. And if you can't, then we fight together. Always— till the end.

He told Rookwood to kill you, and your father. You have to stay out of the way.

I'm not afraid of Rookwood.

Ginny stumbled. Draco, please! Please, I can't lose anyone else—

"Keep up, little saint, or else I will have to carry you."

Okay— I'll stay away from Rookwood. I promise. I'll see you soon?

They were getting close to the edge of the forest now. It wouldn't be long before they were at the castle.

Yes, I'll see you soon.


SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997

Draco stood back to back with Blaise and Daphne Greengrass, firing off spell after spell, defending the courtyard against intruders. They were winning, he was pretty sure, but trying to talk to Ginny and duel at the same time was no easy feat.

He needed to end this quickly. He needed to warn McGonagall, to warn Shacklebolt that—

"Your fight is at an end."

Everyone paused, horrified, at the sound of Lord Voldemort's magically amplified voice reverberating through the courtyard.

"Harry Potter is dead."

"No!" Luna Lovegood wailed some distance off to his right.

"You have fought bravely— I can respect that. But your fight is over now. Death Eaters— cease your attacks at once, and assemble yourselves in the main courtyard. As for the rest of you— all who yield to me shall be forgiven, your lives spared. If you continue to resist me… I will show no mercy. I will see you all very soon."

Jeering at them, the Snatchers backed up, lining up toward one edge of the courtyard.

"What now, mate?" Blaise said, his voice tight. "Got any brilliant ideas?"

"Just one."

"I'm all ears."

"She'll be here soon."

"You really think she can do it?" Daphne asked, doubt in her voice. "If… if Harry couldn't—"

"She isn't him," Draco snapped, turning to face them. "She can do it."

Daphne still looked doubtful, but Draco didn't have time to console her. He needed to rejoin the Weasleys— once they had regrouped near the courtyard, they had ended up getting split up a bit, taking down enemy combatants. But if Voldemort was on his way here…

He needn't have worried. The Order seemed to have the same idea he did; in a daze, they all stumbled into the courtyard, some holding each other for support, others crying openly. The Weasleys were all safe, as were Granger and Kathleen, who stood next to a pair of adults who could only be her parents. Longbottom and Lovegood had made it, and so had Lupin and his cousin Tonks. None of the professors, as far as he could see, were gravely injured either, although Slughorn was nursing a nasty cut on one arm.

"Draco," Father murmured, coming to stand beside him. "We should leave this place, while there's still time."

"No."

"We've lost, don't you understand?" he hissed. "Potter is dead. We—"

"We haven't lost."

"You heard the Dark Lord—"

"And you heard me that night in your study. The fight isn't over."

"You can't seriously believe that. After all this time? Draco, don't you see that if she could do something, she would? She can't—"

"With all due respect, Father, the situation is more complicated than you can imagine. I will not be leaving."

Lucius grabbed his arm, and when Draco finally looked at him, he was shocked to see the level of despair in his face.

"This is suicide, my son—"

"I'm not leaving. Take Mother and hide in the castle if you wish, or else flee yourself. But I'm not leaving."

"Of course we're not," Mother said, coming to stand beside him and fixing her husband with a stern look. "We stick together, just like always."

"Cissy, see reason—"

"I go where my son goes, Lucius, even if that is to Death's embrace."

Her words shocked Draco, who took in a sharp breath as he beheld the intensity of emotion on his mother's face.

Father looked defeated. "So this is how the Malfoy line ends, then— after nearly a thousand years."

"Don't be so gloomy, Father. It isn't over until it's over."

He looked around as more and more people assembled— bruised, bloodied, and terrified. Stone was scattered all around them, both from an exploded tower and from remnants of the stone knights McGonagall had commanded. There were a few bodies in the courtyard as well— one Acromantula, and maybe a half dozen people, none of whom Draco looked too closely at for fear of seeing someone he recognized. Beyond the courtyard though, many more bodies laid. He did not want to know who they were. He would think about that after.

If he survived.

The Dark Lord had ordered Rookwood to carry out the final deed— that was interesting. Some poor attempt at poetic justice, perhaps, given how Draco's relationship with Rookwood had started.

Well. They would just have to see who was still standing in the end.

Draco moved into the crowd of people, his parents following behind, and tucked a few rows back, for Ginny's sake. She would be here soon. She would be here, and, if there was any justice in the world at all, he would help her defeat the greatest Dark wizard of all time.


SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997

There were so many bodies. Many of them were face-down, which Ginny reluctantly counted as a good thing. She couldn't see who they were that way, and surely if someone important to her had died, Draco would have told her?

Unless Draco didn't know. Or unless he thought it would overwhelm her, just like she hadn't told him the full extent of what had just happened to her in the forest. None of the bodies had red hair, they didn't, they didn't—

They pressed forward, and she dared to glance at Harry, who, despite everything, still glowed with that comforting silver light. She didn't know how to make sense of it. How long would a body glow for, after death? She supposed she was about to find out— it wasn't like she could ask Alys.

No, she would probably never see Alys again, she realized. Either she would be able to use the light at last, and then her gift would be used up, or Voldemort would successfully keep the cup out of harm's way and she would be trapped, forever.

It couldn't happen that way. She wouldn't survive it. Even if she was alive, she would be dead inside— everything good in the world, destroyed.

Great Queen, please be with me, she prayed as they approached the courtyard. Repeating words that she had heard Alys use once, she intoned, Let my hands do your work. Let my mouth speak your words. Let my feet walk your path.

Was it her imagination, or did the cup feel just a little lighter?

Either way, she would take it.

They entered the courtyard, and Ginny's heart about shattered at the sight of so many loved ones all huddled up together, looking broken and defeated. There was her family, safe and sound, and Kathleen, and Cordelia looking good as new, and there was Neville, holding Luna up for support, and Hermione was holding onto Ron—

And there, hidden back a ways, was Draco.

Hi, Weasley.

Voldemort looked positively gleeful as he came to a stop in the middle of the courtyard, Ginny and his lieutenants behind him.

"Behold Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived."

He levitated Harry's body out of Hagrid's arms and roughly threw him down on the ground, where he bounced against the stones. A resounding wail echoed through the crowd, which only seemed to embolden Voldemort.

"Let this be a lesson to you all," he said, his face stretched wide in a feral grin. "No one can stand against the might of Lord Voldemort, and expect to win. This day has been foretold— Harry Potter could not escape his fate, nor can any of you. Swear fealty to me, and you will be welcomed into my new world. Refuse, and prepare to suffer the consequences."

There was fight left in some people's faces, Ginny could see it, but too many others had fallen into a state of abject despair. A couple of people— adults she didn't recognize— dropped to their knees, making Voldemort laugh.

"Come now, don't be shy— who's next?"

Her grip on the cup was so tight her knuckles were white.

Come on, please please please, she begged, dropping inwards towards the pool of light deep inside her. There's just the one left and I'm literally holding it, please, I have to save them, I can't let him do this—

Her own screams from that night in Godric's Hollow echoed back in her mind, how she had pleaded with Ignotus Peverell, how she had pleaded with Death itself, and Death had obliged her.

Please, she tried again, taking a deep breath. I need to save my people.

Something clicked open inside of her, like a trap door falling away, and with a start, Ginny realized that the invisible wall separating her from the light was gone.

Fate, it seemed, was on her side.

More people were kneeling now. None from the Order, but close to a quarter of their allies. Voldemort was basking in it— enjoying the spectacle.

She would give him a spectacle, if that was what he wanted.

I can do it, she sent to Draco as she dropped the sketchbook. Get ready.

What?

Voldemort had started to look over his shoulder, his attention drawn by the clatter of the book on the ground, but Ginny was already moving. She walked past him, further into the courtyard, and turned around to face him, standing as a barrier between him and the ones she loved.

He smirked at her. "Is it your turn to bow, little saint?"

"I will never bow to you again."

Voldemort's smirk grew wooden. "The fighting is over, Ginny. Get back in line."

"No." She reached up with her right hand, pulled off the emerald tiara, and threw it at his feet. It skidded over the stones, the metal scraping as it moved.

He looked down at it, first in disbelief, and then in fury. "You fucking cunt!"

Ginny went flying backward, but she didn't care, she couldn't care at all, because the magic was right there, just waiting for her to unleash it—

She landed with a dull thud on the ground, her head smacking against the pavement, and she heard Mum scream. Ginny closed her eyes.

"Ah— Draco, there you are. I've been looking for you. Command your whore, and all shall be forgiven— you and your parents will all be safe. Command her to bow to me, now."

Show them, Ginny whispered, the light within her calling to her like a siren, making it hard to stay present. Show them, once and for all, that you're on my side.

She felt him, through the bridge, take a deep, deep breath.

"Listen well to the words of the Morrigan," he said, speaking loud and clear over the crowd. "Gold is the light of your heart, Elentiya, and may you use it to protect your people from the ancient enemy."

Ginny fell into the light.


SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997

For a split second, nothing happened, and then the world exploded in brilliant golden light. Draco covered his eyes with his arm, turning his head away, blinking rapidly, and soon enough, the light cleared.

Ginny was lying on the ground still, surrounded by a glowing ball of energy, just like she had been many times before, but she wasn't screaming this time.

Voldemort sighed dramatically. "This again— the same old party trick. If you think—"

He stopped talking as a pulse of invisible energy, echoing like a heartbeat, radiated out from Ginny through the crowd. It reverberated inside of Draco as it passed through him, making his hair stand on end. The air grew electric— like lightning was about to strike.

"G-Ginny?" Mrs. Weasley stuttered, and started to take a step forward, but Draco yanked her back.

"No," he whispered. "We need to stay out of the way."

"What is this?"

"The beginning," Draco said grimly, as another pulse of power emanated from Ginny.

There was a great rustling, off in the distance, and Draco's eyes widened as hundreds— no, thousands— of birds flew up out of the Forbidden Forest, so many that they darkened the sky.

Or was the sky actually getting darker? He exchanged a nervous look with Granger and Weasley, before looking upward.

The sky was definitely getting darker. It was late afternoon in reality, but it was like time had accelerated. The atmosphere above them quickly dissipated, revealing a black sky absolutely covered in a sea of stars, brighter than Draco had ever seen.

"Merlin," Granger whispered, her eyes as wide as saucers. "This is… this is beyond anything—"

"Watch," Draco hissed.

It was eerily silent as every single pair of eyes came to rest on Ginny as she began to float, her chest lifting first as though she was being pulled by an invisible string. Her skirts billowed lightly from an unseen breeze, and with a start, Draco realized the cup was gone. Ginny had destroyed it. Voldemort was mortal once more.

"She can kill him," he whispered. "She's done it."

He watched her as she slowly tilted upright in the air, and he saw that her tattoo was also gone, like it had never been. He glanced down at his Dark Mark, hardly able to believe it. He hadn't even felt it— it had been nothing like when the wolf had tried to gnaw it out of him.

She was free.

Ginny opened her eyes at last, and, just as he expected, they glowed white, making her look positively otherworldly.

The gas lamps lining the walkway to the courtyard had turned on, sensing that apparently night had come early. Two at a time, they popped in quick succession, plunging them all deeper into darkness. Ginny's light, and the light of the stars above them, were the only things that allowed them to see.

"Very impressive, Lady of Light," Voldemort called, and Draco knew he was trying to save face. "Inspiring. But you cannot hope to defeat me. You know as well as I do that I am the Master of Death—"

Ginny lifted her right hand above her head, making Voldemort pause, and Draco watched as the Elder Wand wiggled in his hand and, after a brief moment, went flying toward Ginny.

"No!" he yelled, taking a stumbling step forward, but it was already too late.

The wand landed in her hand, and she gripped it tightly, before its shape became transparent, glittering like the stars above, and then it disappeared.

Ba-boom.

Another pulse of power barreled through them.

"Did she just… did she just absorb the Elder Wand?" Weasley stammered.

"Yep," Draco said, his mouth dry. "Yep, I think so."

Ginny paid them no mind, if she could even hear them at all— the connection on the bridge felt distorted, like she was impossibly far away from him. The Resurrection Stone and the Invisibility Cloak followed behind the wand, returning to their true master at last. They landed in her hand, one at a time, and they too glimmered like distant starlight before disappearing. Her dress glimmered too, and Draco watched in awe as it changed shape around her, becoming a deep black set of armor, flecked with faint gold sparkles. Her hair whirled around her, wild and free like she was. Slowly, she lowered her arm.

She did not open her mouth, but her voice echoed around them all just the same.

"You are the master of nothing."

She lifted both arms out to her sides, palms outstretched, and as one, every single corpse on the battlefield rose as an Inferius.