So sorry for the long hiatus! Promise I'm going to see this one through!
May 2nd, Continued:
Then the whispers filtered in from around him, as if only seconds had passed since he had gone down. Most of them said the same thing that Voldemort did, "The boy… Is he dead?"
"I'll check, my Lord." Said a female voice. Narcissa Malfoy bent down beside him, felt his heart pounding against his ribs, and whispered in the softest tone as her long hair formed a curtain around them, "Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle? Does my son live?"
"Yes." The word was hardly a whisper, but it was what she needed to hear.
Narcissa stood, calling to the watchers, "He is dead! The boy is dead."
The celebration was instant, with noise and flashes of light shooting into the air. Voldemort motioned for one of his Death Eaters to force Hagrid to pick up Harry's supposed corpse, after he'd played a sick game involving Crucio of course. Harry had remained limp and lifeless on purpose, even when his glasses had flown off his face.
Snape picked Miranda's still form up, cradling her in a way that made Harry want to abandon the ruse just to get her body away from the man. She was already sinking into the pale of death. How long could a baby survive? Was there a baby? Hadn't she said Snape was going to help? He damned sure didn't look like he was doing anything.
It felt like they walked for hours, but it was really just a few minutes. Once they came upon the front of the castle where the Order members and majority of the Hogwarts students and staff had assembled there was a gut-wrenching scream, "NO!" Professor McGonnagall's cry rent the air, made even more terrible because he had never expected that she could make such a sound.
Voldemort spoke in a magically amplified voice, "Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away with my whore sister. Trying to save themselves while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered as they have been. As will every member of their family. Join me in the new world we shall create together."
Silence followed as the people for whom he had tried to die for looked on in shock at him, lying apparently dead in Hagrid's arms.
"Harry! HARRY!" It was Hermione, and, despite his hooded eyes, Harry could see Ron holding her back.
He waited, and didn't know what for exactly, until Voldemort started tormenting Neville.
Harry lunged from Hagrid's arms, drew the Invisibility Cloak from inside his robes, swung it over himself, and sprang to his feet, his wand extended in the same moment Neville Longbottom pulled the sword of Gryffindor from the flaming Sorting Hat that had been previously on his head. Chaos followed his neat dispatchment of Nagini's head.
The fight exploded around them. Grawp, other giants, thestrals, centaurs, elves, and hippogriffs flooding the area, and Harry was sucked into it, searching for Voldemort and trying not to be hit by the curses soaring through the air. He had to finish this.
Miranda's still form was left where Snape had been forced to place her before fighting for his own life. She wasn't alone, however. An emaciated old man knelt beside her, covered by a black cloak, "Pet, stay with me. It's not your time, not yet."
But she was dead, her hazel eyes wide and glassy, her lips tinged blue with little specks of blood on them. She had suffocated on her own blood, and it broke what remained of Gellert Grindelwald's heart. It was a terribly muggle way to die for such a magnificent creature, but he could still feel her, she wasn't entirely gone yet. The half-blood headmaster had cast a spell to try to keep her heart and lungs going. He hadn't finished though, and her body jerked with incomplete involuntary movement. The spell had only prolonged the death of her body, not given it life. Had he had more time to finish his spell, it might have done the trick, but a half life wasn't what Gellert had in mind for his girl. She'd lived like that long enough.
Gellert could also feel the flutter of new life inside of her, continuing the struggle it's mother had ended. Gellert was amazed that he could feel the child at all. It was strong, instinctually trying to vainly bring it's mother back to life with the astonishing amount of raw magic it had seemingly inherited from both parents. That didn't change the truth of the situation. Without Miranda, the life inside her had mere minutes left, possibly less if its magic was exhausted trying to support a half-baked spell to save her. He couldn't fix the broken magic, he didn't have a wand, but then again…he'd been prepared for this moment for over half a century. Ever since the little witch had wormed her way into his heart, he'd been preparing for this very moment.
"Hold on, little one. We've not lost her yet." He muttered, and Gellert looked around, searching for the one thing that could save both of them. Blessedly, her wand was resting in the grass a few yards from where she lay, dropped by the Headmaster, and he scrambled to get it. He held it over her wound, and ignored the slight sacrilegious feeling in his gut as he snapped it in half, allowing the phoenix tears contained within it to pour out as he removed the dagger that had killed her. It slid out easily, it's task completed the moment her soul had left her body. The bloody, torn flesh knitted together almost instantly as the tears replaced the dagger, leaving only the blood on her fair skin, but Miranda did not take a breath on her own as he had hoped. The spell jerked the organs into a facsimile of breath, but she remained as she was. Healed, but not truly alive.
He cursed violently, not about to let the girl he called his daughter die. Using the spelled dagger, he pried the red eyes out of the silver snake lying passively on her throat, as if it had known that this was the inevitable end for it one way or another and refused to fight, protecting it's mistress one last time. Gellert forced Miranda's mouth open, and placed two shards of the Resurrection Stone under her tongue.
This was the reason he had given her the shards all those years ago, so that if needed, he could save her. Her soul had not moved on, she was still in limbo. He could feel it, just knew that she would not move on until the boy she loved was safe or ready to move on with her. His girl was a loyal thing, after all. Loyal enough to still find love in her heart for him even after all he'd done to her.
As he closed her mouth around the shards, magic streaked visibly through her veins, the very color her eyes had always been with the shards on her body. The staggered heartbeats in her chest picked up pace and her lungs inflated fully. Color rushed back to her cheeks. She groaned slightly. Her eyes glowed blue one last time before they fluttered closed.
She didn't wake, but she didn't have to. It had worked, her body would live, her soul bound to it once more. The choice was hers to return to her body or not, and he couldn't make that for her. She would choose to rejoin it on her own though, he just knew it. With the family of her dreams right at her fingertips, she wouldn't even hesitate. Now he only had to wait until he passed on himself.
That had been their deal when he had surrendered, after all. If Gellert remained inside Nurmenguard, then he could move freely about the hidden parts of the castle for the rest of his days, and Albus would visit whenever he could. If he left, however, the spell would end his life swiftly. As much as Albus had loved him, after the incident with Arianna, he had never trusted him. That was alright though. He had done what he needed to do, and maybe, just maybe, it was enough to counteract all the evil he'd done to ruin Albus' faith in him.
He wished he could stay, could hold her hand for a while longer and wait for her eyes to open so he could tell her how much she'd taught him, how much he loved her, his beloved daughter. He couldn't though. Being seen outside his prison would cast a shadow upon Albus' name, and he couldn't bear to do that. It was better this way anyway. She would want another holding her after all. The girl he'd raised was gone, the resurrected woman beside him would be something new entirely. If not a child of his and Albus' by blood, she was in spirit. She was the very best of both of them. And she would live to do great things now. She would live to hold her own flesh and blood in her arms. That was enough for him.
"Farewell, my dear Miranda. Be safe and happy. You deserve that much after all I put you through." He placed a kiss on Miranda's cool forehead. Carefully draping his warm cloak over her, he left her tucked safely against a tree. Swiftly returning to Nurmenguard, where he could spend his last few hours in peace, knowing that Miranda was healed and that he was going to be reunited with Albus soon.
In fact, as he passed from one world to the next, he imagined Albus embracing him tightly, and finally granting him forgiveness even though he didn't deserve it. Despite everything he'd done in his life, Gellert Grindelwald met death a happy man.
Miranda felt the change in her chest the same time her brother pushed her back again, "This is it, Randa. You really must go now. You don't get a choice anymore. Your Papa made it for you. Bloke really thinks he knows what's best for you." He smiled boyishly at her, "He was right the first time, though. You wouldn't have survived much longer in that orphanage."
"His choice cost me you." Miranda reminded the piece of her brother that had once lived inside of her. She understood that now. The piece of her brother that had been bound to Harry had suffered so much torment prior to being forced into Harry that it was permanently warped. Her Tom, however, here in this in-between place, was whole and strong and still fiercely protective of her. A fraction of what he could have been if they'd stayed together.
"I was going to lose you either way, Randa." He said sadly, "His choice saved you."
Her hand pressed against the bump on her stomach, like she could shelter the life inside from her sorrow with a simple touch. "The price was too high, Tom. I would have stayed with you at all costs."
"You would have died." Tom hissed, "Your magic, those boys, some cruel adult who didn't see how special you are. One of those would have been your fate, and I would have always ended up exactly where and what I am. I'm just no good without you."
Miranda didn't want to admit the truth in his words, so she voiced another fear instead, "Oh, Tom. What will his choice cost me this time?"
Tom cupped her cheek in one hand, forcing her to look away from her stomach, "Easy, Randa. They're just fine. If you want to see 'em grow up, though, you've got to leave me behind." He read her expression just as well as he'd always done, "I'll be okay."
"But…"
He shook his head, "No, this is what Voldemort really wanted. He just didn't know how because he never knew love." Tom pressed a kiss to her forehead, "It's immortality after all. I'll be gone, but knowing that the one person I ever loved lives on, that you have a future that will continue even after you're with me again, that's everything." He grinned, so easily, "Remember me the way you knew me, tell them about me, and I'll live forever. The real me, not what everyone else will remember." He grimaced, "Please don't pass down my dreadful name, though. Promise me that?"
She nodded, tears flowing down her face again as she stepped away from him one final time, "Promise."
He smiled one last time, though unshed tears glimmered in his eyes as he spoke, "Goodbye, Miranda. I love you."
Miranda echoed his words as she fell back into the misty void to enter a world where she would be without her brother for the very first time. A peaceful feeling entered her then. Tom would wait for her. For now, what would life be like with Harry and their child? She couldn't wait to find out.
This time, when Harry's wand reacted with Voldemort's, he was stronger. It was as if leaving the shell of Voldemort's soul behind at King's Cross had lifted a weight off of him. His magic felt like his own for the first time in a long time. He destroyed the Dark Lord in a flash of bright white light. The light faded, but the body of Voldemort remained, or so Harry thought. But moments later, the wind started blowing the artificial body away in pieces that looked like sheets of snakeskin. Harry watched the wind blow him away into nothingness.
Harry fell to his knees, emotionally and physically exhausted. "Harry!" He heard Hermione yell in relief, but the only voice he wanted to hear was Miranda's. He stumbled away from Hermione, walking blindly back to where he last remembered seeing her. He leaned against a tree when he found the clearing, confused that she wasn't there. Uncertain that he was in the right place, he walked to the center, stopping only when what felt like a branch crunched under the weight of his foot. It was her wand, laying in three pieces among the leaves and grass, next to a large space of blood saturated ground. Her snake bracelet lay a few feet away, the red jewel eyes pried out, no doubt by a battlefield thief.
Bending down, he picked up the splinters and the limp snake, holding them to his chest. He felt hollow, and continued wandering, looking for her. A sharp, snide familiar voice interrupted his mourning, "There you are, Potter."
"What do you want from me?" Harry snapped.
"She's not dead."
Harry's empty green eyes found Malfoy standing in front of him. "Yes she is. We all saw her die."
Draco shrugged, "That's what I though too, but she was alive when I went back to get her. She's unconscious in the Infirmary."
"Are you lying to me?" Harry asked skeptically.
"No, Potter. I may not personally like you, but I wouldn't lie about something like this. Not about my friend, either." Draco said, motioning towards the castle. "We should go. Madame Pomfrey says she could wake up at any time. I know Miranda'd like us to be there." He winced, "You mostly. Dreadfully."
Harry looked into the depths of Draco's swirling gray Malfoy eyes and heaved a ragged sigh of relief at the sincerity he found there. "Show me where she is."
Draco chortled, "Voldemort's not dead an hour, and you're already bossier. Figures." But the Malfoy heir walked him into the castle anyway.
Miranda was tucked in a corner, hidden by a scintillating white curtain, "Madame Pomfrey had to put it up to keep everyone from leering at her." Draco said by way of explanation, pulling the curtain to the side to admit Harry.
Someone had changed Miranda out of her bloodstained clothes. She now wore a white spotted nightgown that was about two sizes too big. She looked fragile, but her skin was no longer colored by death. She was alive.
"Is she alright?" He asked Draco, taking hold of one of Miranda's hands.
Draco shrugged, "Madame Pomfrey isn't sure what happened. She said that there's no reason why Miranda hasn't woken up though, but doesn't feel she'll be unconscious for much longer. Says Miranda's body is trying to recover from the trauma of it all. It's likely a good thing she's resting."
Something caught his attention, and Harry found himself staring at an obvious bump on Miranda's thin frame. Ghosting his hand over it in disbelief Harry could swear he felt a surge of magic rush to recognize his own. Magic that was not Miranda's. Magic that was not his. The whole thing in King's Cross hadn't just been in his head after all. She had really been there. And she was really….
"Oh, yeah. That got thing kind of difficult to hide after her clothes got changed. Without her cloak, it was pretty obvious what that is. Hence the gawking and the need for curtains." Draco drawled blithely, as if Harry wasn't having a life altering revelation. "Molly Weasley's been the only other one besides me to be granted permission to visit. Apparently having seven of your own makes you an expert on the matter. She and Madame Pomfrey haven't quite been seeing eye to eye on the care and keeping of the unconscious expectant mother."
Harry slid out of the chair a moment later, landing in a heap on the floor.
Draco sneered, "Boy Who Lived my arse." He drew the curtain surrounding them back a few inches, just enough to break the sound proofing charms in place, "Pansy, go find a Weasley to scrape Potter off the floor. And no, I didn't do it. He's fainted like a littlegirl."
The Slytherin witch popped her head inside, "He's fainted?"
"Alas." Draco said, kicking at Harry's dirty sneaker to make a path for himself to leave. Pansy looked at him reproachfully, "Seriously, Pans. I'm not picking him up."
"She'll be upset if he's got a crick in his neck because you were being a prick." Pansy assured him, nodding to their unconscious friend.
Draco sighed, almost gave in, and then took matters into his own hands, brushing past Pansy to announce, "The great Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, is currently passed out cold on the floor. Right here, should anyone care. I'll be going to my rooms to shower."
The Malfoy heir strode away from the rush of people suddenly there to help with all of the swagger his title implied.
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Thank you!
-Jenn