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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP Characters:None Genres: Tragedy Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Sexual Situations, Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 1174 Summary: Harry gets one night that gives him a glimpse into what life could be like with the Dursley's. But events turn for the worse and both Harry and the wizarding world are left wondering what it's consquences mean for the future of the world. Hitcount: Story Total: 501430; Chapter Total: 8927 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: I don't own anything. JK Rowling owns the entire Potter Universe. I just write fan fic for fun and to take up free time. No Copyright infringement is intended. |
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Chapter 52: Satan Said Dance “Are you going to make your move anytime soon? Or do I have time to take a nap, grab a bite to eat–mop the floor?” Ron asked over the chessboard at his eldest brother, who was surveying the match with interest, his hand on his chin in contemplation. “Go ahead,” Bill replied, not taking his eyes off the board. “But I think you’d give Mum heart failure if you volunteered to do any housework…let alone mop the floor.” Ron rolled his eyes at the comment and then shot Hermione a warning look when she let out an amused giggle. Bill continued to eye the board one more time before sighing loudly. "Fine," he breathed out. "You're going to beat me anyways. Why delay the inevitable, right?" Bill said to himself as he motioned for his pieces to move. "I don't know how you got so good," Bill conceded as Ron's pieces took the board from Bill and ended the game in a raucous roar of applause and shouts of defeat from Bill's pieces. "Pure talent," Ron said with a smirk as he waved his wand over the carnage of the board, resetting it for another game. "Or maybe it's the fact that Bill is shite at chess?" George said from the couch in the sitting room where he was sprawled out, trying to catch a bit of a nap. "Watch it," Bill growled in response. “I don't see you over here showing us your prowess on the chess board. It seems to me that you were ‘too tired’ to play before…so just keep your comments to yourself.” “Yeah…well you didn’t have to sleep in a room with Ron for the past week,” Fred grumbled from his relaxed spot on a nearby armchair. “We did,” he added. “Yeah…his snoring is enough to suck the life force out of anyone,” George countered. “I’ve come to the conclusion that he’s got a dragon snuggled under his pillow.” “I was almost tempted last night to tell him to go sleep with Hermione,” Fred snickered. “Hey!” Ron warned defensively. “Yeah–but I’d have felt bad for her if I had,” Fred continued, clearly ignoring and enjoying getting a rise out of Ron. “I don’t know how you do it,” George teased Hermione, who was watching the scene with a certain level of interest and amusement. “It’s called a silencing charm,” Hermione said with a cheeky smile as she caught the disgruntled look on Ron’s face. “I’d have thought you two would have come up with that on your own,” she added as she addressed the twins, who looked slightly miffed that they hadn’t. “She’s got us there,” Fred admitted. “Well–you can’t expect us to be at the top our game at all times nowadays,” George said with a yawn. “I mean–with this barmy war going on, moving around every other week and Harry going schizo on us–“ “Hey,” Bill warned as George said those last words. But it was too late. “Shut up,” Ron snarled, glaring hard at George. “Shut the hell up,” Ron snapped. The room went deadly silent and George looked as though he wanted to sink out of sight of Ron’s gaze, right into the cushions of the couch he was occupying. “I don’t want to hear you ever talk about him like that again,” Ron said in a deadly, low voice. “Do you understand me?” Ron repeated roughly. “Ron, he didn’t mean it like that–“ Bill tried to intervene, seeing the situation begin to spiral as Ron’s temper and stress levels threatened to take him over the edge. “I don’t care how he meant it,” Ron spat back, countering any attempt by Bill to abate his anger. “Not everything in life can be spun into some big joke. Nothing about this is funny–or ironic in the least,” he continued, turning back towards George. “I’m sorry, Ron. I wasn’t trying to–“ George tried to apologize. “Never mind,” Ron cut him off, shrugging off George’s apology, suddenly sounding as though he wanted to abandon this conversation. “We miss him too, Ron,” Fred said quietly. “We care about him… he’s like another little bro to us. But sometimes we--sometimes it’s…it’s just easier to laugh about things. That way–nothing seems as bad as it really is,” he finished softly. “Yeah,” Ron said as he sighed, retaking the seat he had vacated when he had decided to erupt in anger. “But sometimes it just doesn’t feel right,” he said quietly. “Sometimes…it doesn’t make sense to when…” he trailed off, unable to complete the thought. Bill nodded sympathetically. “We know,” Bill sighed. “This sucks…everything about it does,” he added. Ron nodded. “But I can’t tell you–how amazed I am at how you two…how Gin…have handled everything,” Bill told both Ron and Hermione. “Truthfully, I can’t fathom how you do it sometimes.” “We just do what we can….to get by,” Hermione interjected softly and truthfully. The last sentiment seemed to hang on the air, permeating into the minds of everyone present. They had been just getting by these past few months; but what were they waiting for? What end or what outcome were they biding their time for? How much longer would they just skate by, spending each day just to pass onto the next? There was an understood and pensive silence in the room, one that signaled that no more was needed to be said about their previous conversation. Both George and Fred settled back into their relaxed positions on the couch and armchair. Hermione went back to reading a thick tome nestled in her lap. And both Ron and Bill turned back towards the new game of chess that was awaiting their attention. Things seemed to be settling back down and the boring, monotony of their routine day that they seemed to live over and over again began to return. But any illusions that this was to be another quiet, low-key day, was shattered by a sequence of deafening crashes and bangs, followed by loud, uneven shouts from the floor below. The chessboard was thrown to the ground and the pieces scattered and rolled around the room as both Bill and Ron leapt to their feet, eyes trained on the doorway. The twins had abandoned the furniture where they’d been sitting on and Hermione had dropped her book to the ground in a discarded heap, her wand now clutched defensively in her hand. More sounds of panic, hurried banter and over-loud conversation drifted up from the slight opening in the door and any vent in the room. None of the topic or subject of the ruckus could be understood or discerned, but there was a sense of urgency in the atmosphere now. “Boys!” Arthur voice yelled up the staircase and drifted into the room. There was an unfamiliar note of alarm in his voice as he called for his sons. Everyone cast a look around the room at each other before heading towards the door, hurrying towards the sound of Arthur’s voice. Bill and the twins took off down the stairs, skipping steps as they went. Ron and Hermione were slower to follow, trying to decide whether the call included Hermione. As the two moved out into the hallway, Percy streaked past them, bumping Ron aside as he skidded down the stairs. Hermione and Ron were exchanging looks of confusion and trepidation just as Ginny appeared at the landing above, having emerged from one of the bedrooms on the third floor. She was pulling her hair up into a long ponytail, eyeing both Ron and Hermione with curiosity. “What’s going on?” she asked. “We don’t know,” Hermione replied. “We’re just heading down now.” “I’ll follow,” Ginny said as she bounded down the stairs towards them. The three of them made their way together into the chaotic scene that met them on the floor below. Somebody’s backside was sticking out of the living room fireplace, their entire head and shoulders submerged within the green flames that were burning brightly within the lit grate. Rushed, muffled conversation could be heard from within. The three teens sped through the living room to the kitchen where most of the occupants were huddled around the long table, bent over something that was catching their attention. Another person was using the kitchen fireplace to communicate, their head surrounded by another wave of green flames. From the clothes, they could tell that it was George who was occupying this one. “They’ve already infiltrated as far as levels 8, 7, and 6,” Kingsley Shacklebolt’s voice stood out clear from within the heads that were crowded around the table. “They’ve overtaken the entry level and blocked all fireplaces that lead in from the Atrium. They just breached Level 7 and Level 6. So they’ve shut off all Apparition in and out and now control any Portkey or any form of magical transport in,” Kingsley added, using a finger trace what the teens could now see was a large and elaborate parchment map that was lay sprawled across the table. As the teens got closer, they could see that Kingsley looked strained. There were singe marks on his robes and his face was covered dirt and scrapes, his bald head dotted with droplets of sweat. “What about the Auror Office?” Tonks asked, as she too was studying the map. “How much of the full force was in the office?” “About half,” Kingsley replied. “I got word up to them as quickly as possible and they’ve been holding their own, trying to keep them from advancing farther up the levels or down. But they won’t last a long time. There are so many Death Eaters…we were just overwhelmed…we weren’t prepared. There were more people under the Imperius than we originally thought.” “Death Eaters?” Ron blurted out, everyone looking up at the sound of his voice. “What the hell’s going on?” “The Ministry’s under attack,” Bill answered. “Voldemort’s storming it as we speak,” he finished gravely. “Do we know he’s there for sure?” Fred asked. “Yes,” Kingsley nodded grimly. “As I attempted to leave to alert you all…I nearly ran into the brigade of Death Eaters that he had with him. They were away from the main fighting and seemed to be trying to get around it to the lower levels.” “Was Harry there?’ Ginny asked quietly. The look that Kingsley gave her in return was one raked with sympathy. “I don’t know. He could have been. Most of them had their hoods up,” Kingsley replied in an attempt at a soothing voice. “I only recognized a few…I only just got away without being noticed. But I do know Lestrange and Greyback were there–and I believe I recognized Severus.” “Then Harry was with him,” Ron said firmly. “If all the other inner Death Eaters were with him–then so was Harry.” Nobody had anytime to agree with or refute Ron’s statement, however, because of renewed activity from the kitchen fireplace. “Lee’s going to alert anyone he can,” George told the room. “I know he’s got contacts with Oliver Wood and others that we went to school or he knows are loyal to us.” “Lee Jordan?” Ron asked in clarification. “Yeah,” George replied. “I told him to get everyone to meet us outside the gates of Hogwarts as soon as possible,” George explained further. “Hogwarts?” Hermione questioned. “It’s the only place we can be sure hasn’t been infiltrated,” Kingsley responded. “And as far as we know it’s one of the places that hasn’t been targeted and attacked by You-Know-Who.” “What do you mean one of the places?” Ron asked. “It’s not just the Ministry he’s attacking?” “There are a few small bands striking St. Mungo’s also,” Kingsley replied. “We just don’t have enough forces at the Ministry for both. So we’re getting whoever we can to rally at Hogwarts and see if we can’t try to mount some sort of force for a fight. We’ve also been bringing the first wounded there too so they can get some sort of care out of Madam Pomfrey.” “So this is it?” Ron asked. “This is–the end?” “We just can’t let them take the Ministry,” Kingsley replied firmly. “No…it’s not just the Ministry and St. Mungo’s,” Ron corrected him. “This is what Harry told us we’d have to be ready for. It’s to be decided. It’s today,” Ron continued as if realizing his words and the situation and seeing things clearly for the first time. “Then what are we waiting for?” Fred asked the room at large. “If today’s the day that old Voldemort is gonna go down…then we best get Harry some help.” With the last sentiment, Fred looked hard and blazing at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, as if trying to burn and etch his compassion and willingness with just the one look. All three nodded slowly, but surely in response. “I’ve alerted everyone I could,” Remus interjected into the momentary silence as he entered the room from where he’d been using the Floo in the living room. “I’ve contacted Alastor and he’s preparing to get in touch with any of the Order who isn’t already at the Ministry or at Hogwarts and then he’s meeting us there.” “Good,” Kingsley breathed as he nodded and dropped his gaze back to the map as if taking one moment to compose himself. “So…we’re off then?” Bill asked as there seemed to be a momentary hesitation in the fervor of action and information that had just previously taken hold of them all. “Yes,” Arthur replied to his son’s question. “Gather anything you might need and then we’ll head to Hogwarts.” The boys seemed to take their father’s answer as a call to action and the twins, along with Percy, sped back out of the kitchen to collect anything that would help them in the battle. No doubt the twins were after any of their supplies and creations that might create havoc and present danger for the Death Eaters. “What do you want done with me…and I’m sure Fleur too,” Tonks asked as she stepped forwards toward Remus, who had moved towards the table to survey the map of the Ministry. Remus turned towards her at the sound of her question, moving a hand to her waist. “I want you to come to Hogwarts with us,” Remus said as he looked into her eyes. “But I need you to stay there…to help Madam Pomfrey if you can,” he said matching her gaze and trying to get her to understand his wishes. “I need to know where you are–that you’re safe,” he added. Part of her seemed to want to argue that she didn’t need looking after. But a hand on her stomach and the steady gaze of her boyfriend and the father of her unborn child seem to pull her back to the realization of the state of things. She nodded. “Molly? You’ll be there as well?” Arthur asked his wife. “Yes,” Molly said with a nod, looking up from her preoccupied state of worry and dread. Her sons and her husband were going to war. She’d already lost one son to a battle and the fear of losing another today was evident on her face. “Ginny,” Arthur then said, turning to his daughter. “I–I want you to stay too. I want you to help your mother and the others with the injured,” he continued almost hesitantly, as if torn over his decision. Ginny’s face remained passive, but her eyes betrayed her reaction to her father’s request. “You can’t possibly ask that of me, Dad,” Ginny said quietly, shaking her head slightly from side to side. “You’re underage,” Arthur said quietly, trying so hard to stick to his words. “You’re my daughter…and you’re needed at Hogwarts.” “I know where I’m needed,” Ginny replied, her voice starting to shake slightly with the desperation that was beginning to build inside her. “I promised that I would be there. I will not leave him to fight alone.” “He won’t be,” Bill assured her. “We’ll be there.” But Ginny only shook her head harder from side to side in defiance and disbelief that she was being put in this situation. Did they not get it? She needed to be there. To see him. Did they not understand that today not only meant the possible end of all of the terror, the end of a regime of darkness and oppression? Did they not realize that if all went to plan, that if everything laid down before this day reigned true…then it would not be a happy day and the era of freedom that was to come would hold no such joy for her. This would be the worst day of her life. If they were victorious and Voldemort fell…then in turn she would lose the only man she knew she could ever and would ever love. There would be no celebrations–only goodbyes and tears and then a life she was not sure she even wanted to live. It hadn’t been the first time she’d entertained that reckless thought. She felt selfish for even thinking about it. But maybe it would be better–more bearable–than the one she knew she was destined to live out. “I can’t–“ Ginny forced out. “He wants you to be safe, Ginny,” Remus spoke up. “He needs you to stay safe for him.” The conviction and the compassion in Remus’s statements struck a hard chord with Ginny. As much as she wanted to argue, to fight against any notion that she was going to stay behind and be part of the clean up, another part of her was hanging on those words. Who was she to rush recklessly into a battle she knew she would be not fully prepared for? She did not doubt her skill and her knowledge of spellwork. But there was a difference between theory and practice and then using those things to fight and to injure, to kill or be killed in the midst of an intense fracas. The prospect terrified her near as much as not seeing Harry again did. This was a war and life and death was never as real or so near as it was now. She’d already lost a brother and now the rest of her family were marching right into the fire, with no guarantee that they would ever all be together again. Could she do that to her mother? To her father? Could she knowingly throw herself into a battle and risk losing her life, understanding what it would do to her family if she disregarded their love and entered the fray against their wishes? ‘Yes!’ something screamed at her from inside. But whatever was attempting to push her into battle, there was an opposite force that was trying feverously to drive her the other way. As much as she believed she was meant for a fight, she understood that she was needed just as much behind the scenes, helping her mother and others care and heal those who were putting their lives on the line. She was a dab hand at healing spells and she knew that even though it was considered a safe-haven now, Hogwarts might not stay that way if things went awry. Perhaps she could be needed and called upon to fight after-all if the castle would find itself under siege? It was all so confusing to her and she was finding it so difficult to accept a supporting role in a all of this. But looking into her mother’s worry-lined face and the pleading look in her father’s eyes, remembering Remus’s previous words, there was just too much trust and love to disregard if she went against their wishes. “Ok,” she managed in a small voice, nodding solemnly. “Right,” Kingsley said in afterthought as a pause of silence followed Ginny’s agreement. “I need to be off. As soon as you get everyone set here, make your way to Hogwarts so we can talk about how we’re going to crack our way back into the Ministry and provide backup.” Several of the men nodded in agreement and Kingsley shot them one more last look that relayed his own fears about the situation. He then grabbed a fistful of powder from an inside pocket of his frayed robes and threw it into the fireplace before stepping into the grate and disappearing in a swirl of motion and green flame. “Molly, if there are any supplies you need, gather them up quickly,” Arthur said as the moment for someone to take charge again emerged suddenly from the pause in conversation. “We’ll leave the rest of our things here. I doubt finding our whereabouts would be a top priority for the Death Eaters now. We’ll come back and collect things when we can.” “I’ve got a few things,” Molly replied as she hurried out of the room, undoubtedly destined for the bathroom down the hallway to gather the potions she stocked in the cabinet each time they had relocated. Just as she left, Percy and the twins came hurrying back into the kitchen, donning robes and cloaks that showed that they were ready for travel and flight, perhaps concealing the wares or objects they had decided to bring along with them. “Is everything set?” George asked, surveying the room. “Your mother’s gone to collect some healing supplies, potions,” Arthur replied. “We’ll go ahead then,” Fred supplied. “We’ll see how many people Lee has managed to gather up and then see what else we can do,” he added. “Alright,” Arthur replied. “But don’t leave for the Ministry without the rest of us,” he added. His sons nodded in understanding, realizing that their father wanted to keep his family together as long as possible. The three sons then exited the kitchen, heading for the front door so that they could bypass the wards and Apparate directly to the gates outside of Hogwarts. “We should go too,” Bill said to Fleur once his brothers had made their exit. She nodded. “Madam Pomfrey will be needing my ‘elp wiz ‘ze injured,” Fleur agreed as the couple followed the twins’ and Percy’s exit path and left the kitchen. “Are you ok?” Remus’s hushed voice proceeded Bill and Fleur’s departure. Ginny looked up to find Remus scrutinizing Tonks with a certain level of concern. Tonks had her eyes closed, one hand on her furrowed brow, the other rubbing her belly soothingly. “Yeah,” she breathed out, opening her eyes to meet Remus’s worried gaze. “I’m just–tired–a bit overwhelmed with things. I just hate not being able to be at the Ministry with the other Aurors,” she assured him. It did seem that Remus was totally satisfied with her answer, so he moved forward and closed the space between them, taking her in his arms. “You know if these were different circumstances,” Remus began, bringing a hand to her stomach, “I would have you fighting right there with me,” he finished passionately. “I know,” Tonks whispered to him, bringing one of her hands to cover Remus’s as it rested on her very pregnant belly. “And I’d be right there…keeping my old man on his toes,” she added with a smile. “But we’ll be waiting for Dad to come home to us. And he better,” she added. And as she spoke the last words, there was visible movement underneath her maternity top, nearly directly beneath where their joined hands rested. “And he quite agrees,” Tonks said with a small laugh as both of them looked downwards towards the movement. “He?” Remus asked breathlessly. “It’s a boy?” It had been known that Tonks had known the baby’s gender and that Remus had wanted to be surprised, but neither of them looked the least bit concerned that Remus had been told. In fact, Remus looked awestruck and fascinated by the revelation, not at all upset or disappointed that he’d found out. Tonks nodded. “It’s a boy,” she repeated in confirmation. “We’re having a son.” Ginny watched on in a strange mix of jealous adoration as the two lovers shared this moment with one another. But she couldn’t help but feel a sort of connection to their plight and their worries, knowing that the separation that this battle was bringing to them and the possibility of losing what they had together was just as great and as deep as the anxiety she felt about her situation. They could just as easily be separated and lost to each other and Tonks could be left alone to raise their son if things went wrong for Remus in the battle. She suddenly felt a sense of selfish horror at the realization that she was not the only one putting her entire future, her entire life up for risk and chance. She wasn’t the only one with everything to lose. ------------------------------- --------------- His chest felt tight. He could feel his heart beating frantically against it, trying to betray the calm exterior he was trying to maintain. He could feel little droplets of sweat forming at on his forehead and at the small of his back, sure signs of his nervousness, his fears. He was glad that his hood hid his face from both the Death Eaters flanking him and the Dark Lord. But he knew deep down that Voldemort could indeed sense his trepidation. But perhaps he would pass it off as an anxiety and nervous excitement over the upcoming fray. He was momentarily reprieved from dwelling on his own fears when a flash of white streaked past him, brushing against his robes as he stood against a stone wall. "We've pushed the Aurors and other fighters back up into the 7th level," a gruff voice emanated from the large lizard patronus that had stopped within their midst, addressing Lord Voldemort himself. "The lower levels are completely secured...just as you commanded, my lord." Voldemort but not speak, but nodded slightly and let out a contented breath as he patted at the head of Nagini who was coiled on the floor next to him. The patronus before him soon faded away, leaving the little band of his closest servants and Death Eaters awaiting his next words in an anticipatory silence. “Fenrir…Amycus…Rabastan,” Voldemort hissed softly. “I want you to go and assist your fellows on the floors above. Make sure–nobody–get’s past the atrium level. Do you understand?” “Yes, my lord,” the three addressed Death Eaters murmured in response, bowing slightly in respect. They then turned heel back towards the lifts that led up to the entrance level, their boots clicking loudly against the smooth stone floor as they moved away. “Bella, Rudolphus, Mulciber, Yaxley, Rowle, “ Voldemort added, addressing the rest of the hooded figures. “Fan out on this level and make sure we’re not going to run into anything unwanted or bothersome while we’re here.” “My Lord?” Bella questioned, perhaps confused as to why she was being asked to leave her master’s presence. “Go, Bella,” Voldemort ordered, cutting off any more attempts at question or protest. She paused for only a moment longer, contemplating saying something more, before gesturing for the other named Death Eaters to follow the command and start the scouring of this lower level. There was only more silence as they spread out, each taking different passages that branched out into level nine of the Ministry. It was only then, in as the last of the retreating Death Eaters completely disappeared from sight, that Harry realized that he, Voldemort, and Snape were the only ones left standing in the hallway. “Severus…Potter,” Voldemort hissed softly, “Come now, let us go,” he finished, gesturing for the two to follow him as he began to stride down the hallway away from them and towards the depths of the Department of Mysteries, Nagini slithering along beside him, silently and obediently. There was a pause in the reactions of both Harry and Snape to follow. It seemed that Snape was just as unsure of what to make of this situation and what they were doing here as Harry was. Harry had expected to be used to fight, to hold back Ministry officials and Aurors so Voldemort could complete his takeover. But he hadn’t been used at all. He hadn’t even cast a spell or drawn his wand. He had been at Voldemort’s side the entire battle thus far, biding his time and walking calmly through the halls of Ministry Headquarters as part of Voldemort’s inner circle. Perhaps it was this lack of action so far, or maybe it was the sense of trepidation that he was getting from Snape at the same moment that bothered him more. Snape did not seem to know why they were accompanying Voldemort now and what interest he might have in delving this deep into the Department of Mysteries while there was a battle for takeover raging on up a few floors. But they followed; silently understanding that they must go along. ------------------------------------ ------- “Ginny, grab me that roll of bandages over there,” Molly Weasley called quickly to her daughter as she tried to heal the large burns that were marring the side of the face and must of the chest of a young male Auror. She was trying her best to both alleviate the excruciating pain she knew he was in and soothe his nerves. He was shaking uncontrollably and breathing raggedly in fear and panic. “Here,” Ginny said as she came over and passed her mother the bandages. Ginny had been running small errands and doing anything that was needed in the hospital wing. So far there had been about fifteen injured fighters brought to them at Hogwarts. Many of them had non-life threatening injuries: burns, broken bones, lacerations; but there a few that she knew of that had more massive and critical injuries and were being taken of by Madam Pomfrey at the far end of the ward. Her mother, Tonks, Fleur, and a few older girls at Hogwarts were taking care of the stable patients, making sure their wounds were tended to and their pain minimized. “I’m going to bandage this up so infection can’t set in,” Molly told the young man. “I’m afraid this might hurt a bit,” she warned him gently. “Thank you,” he whispered quietly out of the side of his mouth, trying to nod as much as he could. “Thank you for what you’re doing,” he breathed out. Molly managed a small smile and began to lay the white, sterile bandage across the ruined side of his face. Ginny looked on in silence, watching with a bang in her heart as the young Auror winced in pain and his fear became more evident in his eyes. His eyes were green. They were not the stark, brilliant emerald green she knew so well, but a dark, earthy green, attractive in their own right. She didn’t know if it was this striking feature or the pity and sympathy she had for the injured young man, but she reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly in an attempt to comfort him. His eye nearest to her and that was uncovered by the bandage, roved towards her to search out the source of the comforting gesture. His eye rested on her for a moment before he squeezed back gently and then looked back up at the ceiling, trying to hold off the pain once again. “You’re Bill and Charlie’s kid sister?” the man asked quietly, almost so that Ginny didn’t catch his question. “Weasley,” he reiterated. “Yeah,” Ginny said with a nod. “I imagine Bill’s out there fighting,” he breathed out. “Reinforcements were just getting there when they were taking me out,” he added. “He left about a half hour ago with the others,” Ginny replied. The young man was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry–I’m sorry about your brother…about Charlie,” he said quietly. “I only heard a few weeks ago,” he added sadly. “Thank you,” Ginny managed softly. “I went to school with both Bill and Charlie…I was in Charlie’s class though,” the young added, perhaps feeling that Ginny needed more of an explanation as to why he was expressing his condolences now. “Kit Brewer…I played–“ “You played Quidditch with them,” Molly finished for him and Kit turned his head slightly towards her. “Charlie stayed over at your house for a few days one summer, I remember,” she replied. “Mrs. Weasley?” he asked. She nodded. “You’re going to be alright, Kit,” she assured him. But before he could say anything or offer anymore thanks, there was a cry of pain from across the aisle of the wing. Both Ginny and Molly looked up at the sound, worried that one of the injured fighters might be in some sort of discomfort. But it was not an injured Auror or Ministry worker who had caught their attention. “Dora, dear,” Molly breathed out, temporarily abandoning bandaging Kit’s injuries as she rushed over to Tonks’ side. Tonks was leaning against one of the iron post of the bed across the way. Her eyes closed in a mask of concentration and her other hand was holding her stomach. “I’ll be fine…I just need a minute,” she breathed out as she tried to regain herself. “Tonks, dear…let’s get you a bed somewhere,” Molly tried coaxing her. “No–Really, Molly, I’ll be–aahh!” she cried out, clutching at her belly. “Bloody hell,” she groaned as she leaned against Molly for support. “Not today…” she cried out incredulously. “Not now…” she moaned as Ginny spotted the small puddle of fluid on the floor, signaling that Tonks’ water had broke. “Come now, dear,” Molly soothed. “Let’s get you situated in a bed. I’ll have Poppy come take a look at you,” she added, trying to get the young woman to move towards a bed. “I guess there’s no telling him that today isn’t a good day?” Tonks breathed out as she fought through another bought of discomfort. After this small attempt at humor, she allowed Molly to steer her to a nearby bed. Molly pulled the curtains around Tonks as she crawled into the bed, hiding them both from view. “When is she due?” a raspy voice asked, pulling Ginny temporarily back to attention. She looked down to see Kit looking at her. “A few days ago,” Ginny said with a smile. “Least we’re guaranteed one little bit of happiness in all this,” he sighed. Ginny could only nod, finding all sorts of painful truth in the statement of the injured young Auror. ------------------------------ ------ “Hermione, are you ok?” Ron asked worriedly as he crouched beside her as they both hid behind a large piece of stone debris that was blocking part of the hallway. Spells were flying all around, bounding off walls and floors, some narrowly missing the place where they were hidden. “I’m fine,” Hermione assured him roughly as she brushed away bits of plaster and dust that where covering her hair. They had arrived at the Ministry using maintenance tunnels and passageways that the Death Eaters had neglected to block off and secure. They had left Hogwarts, joined by any remaining Order members who were not already at the Ministry fighting, Ministry officials and employees who had not been at work at the time of the attack, as well as students past and present who were of age and who had come to Hogwarts after hearing about the Ministry. A small band of students, led by Neville had elected to stay back and protect the castle in case Voldemort was still planning an attack on the castle as a third wave of attacks, or if everything went wrong at the Ministry. So far they had been rather successful in beating back the Death Eaters that were attempting to annihilate the Aurors that were still trapped in the upper levels, fighting just to stay alive long enough for reinforcements to come. The new arrivals had succeeded in coming up from behind the attacking Death Eaters, surprising them and considerably decimating their forces to even the fight. “You’re bleeding,” Ron said as he used his sleeve to wipe away a streak of blood that was running down her cheek. She hissed in pain as Ron hit the cut just below her eye. “I’ll be ok,” she told him she told him as she tried to push away his touch. “It’s just a cut.” “Still…we should get you out and get that looked–“ Ron began. “I’m not leaving, Ron,” Hermione snapped at him. “So just stop that right now. I’m here to fight and help Harry just like you.” Ron looked at her meaningfully for a moment, gauging her words and letting the fierceness of them sink in. “I know,” he admitted with a nod. “I just–I’m afraid of losing you,” Ron said with as much conviction and ferocity as Hermione had when she spoke about staying and fighting. Hermione caught him with a look of admiration and pure love for him that made his breath catch in the midst of the chaotic frenzy still going on around them. They were surrounded by shouts and screams of pain and fury from all sides, and the air was ripe and filled with electricity from the barrage of spells being hurled from every angle, but behind the debris they were using as a temporary shield, this moment was just them. “I know,” Hermione told him. “But if we don’t fight–if we don’t do whatever we can to win this–then we will lose each other. If he wins, there’s no way we’ll be able to be together–you know that. So we can’t afford to afraid of that now,” she added fiercely. Ron could only nod and swallow hard. It was true. If Harry lost and Voldemort was left free to take control of the entire magical world, then it was likely that anyone close to Harry or who had aided him would be struck down and killed. But even if they were to be spared, Hermione would not be. She was a muggleborn and it had always been made clear that those of that parentage had no place within the structure of Voldemort’s regime. Somehow trumping the fear of losing the war and Harry was the horrible reality that he would lose Hermione too. “You guys alright?” a voice broke the silent exchange between the two. Fred slid down on the floor next to Hermione, his eyes raking over the both of them. Fred had a bruise under his left eye, but otherwise he looked unscathed. “We’re ok,” Ron assured his brother. “So you were just having a chat then?” Fred asked with a smirk. “Or perhaps I interrupted a mid-battle snog?” “No,” Hermione replied first. “We were just talking about what our next move was,” lying about the true nature of their conversation. “Well lucky for you–I’ve got your next orders,” Fred interjected. “We’ve got most of the Death Eaters either pinned down or on the run. Most of them are heading towards the lower levels. We’re gonna rally as many people as we can and give chase–see if we can’t finish em’ off,” Fred explained. “You two game?” he asked mischievously, as if the thought of engaging more Death Eaters was as thrilling as pulling off a prank. Both Ron and Hermione nodded, knowing they were needed to pull off the next maneuver. “Has anyone seen Voldemort yet?” Ron asked as if he could not help the question. “No,” Fred answered with a shake of his head. “As far as I know, he hasn’t joined in the fighting at all,” Fred added. He knew that Ron was not so much interested in where Voldemort was and if he was in the battle as he was worried about Harry’s whereabouts. But where Voldemort was, Harry was probably close by. “Hey! Fred!” another voice interrupted. Just as Fred was about to call back, George slid into view, panting slightly and crouching behind the pile debris that they were sitting behind. “Are we going, or what?” George asked his twin brother, gesturing over the debris. “Yeah…I was just filling these two in on things,” Fred replied. “Well I don’t know why you’re all still hiding behind this thing,” George said, again gesturing to the large stone. “If you hadn’t noticed–we’ve secured the floor,” he added. And it was at that moment that the small group behind the rock realized that there were no longer sounds of battle audible and the flashes of light that signaled a fight around them were nonexistent. The floor was rather quiet and the only sound was that of their own breathing and of rushed conversations of people they could not see from their vantage point. Slowly they all stood up, their wands up and ready just in case of a lingering threat of an ambush. Around them, the halls and rooms were virtually destroyed. Plaster and stone littered the floor and there was a fog of lingering dust hanging in the air, obstructing any hope of a clear view of all the devastation. But what they were able to see was a small group people huddled close to one another around something or someone perhaps. And it was quite plain, even in the haze of the dust, that two of them people in the group were red-headed, unmistakably Weasleys. Out of instinct, the four of them made their way quickly to the group. As they got closer, they could tell that it was indeed someone who they were huddled around and that the person was hurt from the sound of the voices. “Hold still, Perce,” Mr. Weasley’s said just as the four others entered the circle of people. What they saw made their stomachs plunge and they were overcome by the sudden, familiar feeling of helplessness as they saw Percy slumped against the wall. His eyes were closed and his face in a mask of pain as he turned his head away from his left shoulder where a large shard of wood was driven through his shoulder, as if someone had speared him with it. “Just get it out,” Percy growled through pain and gritted teeth. “It’ll hurt, Percy,” Bill warned him as he knelt on the other side of his brother. “It’ll hurt like a son-of-a bitch,” he repeated. “I don’t care,” forced out again through gritted teeth, opening his eyes and glaring at his eldest brother. “Just do it.” Bill cast a look over at his father, who was watching Percy carefully. Arthur nodded to Bill after a moment of consideration and Bill swallowed nervously before reaching for the base of the speared wood. “I’ll count to three,” Bill told Percy quietly. Percy nodded and looked away again, breathing deeply to steel himself. “One…two…three,” Bill said softly and then pulled at the wood piece as he said the third word. The shard made a sick squelching noise that was drown out by guttural cry of pain as it was pulled out. With one hard tug the wooden stake was separated from Percy’s shoulder and he sat panting hard as Arthur pressed a handkerchief against the large wound now exposed and bleeding freely. “Let’s get you up and out of here,” Arthur said as he attempted to sling Percy’s good arm around his own shoulder and hoist Percy up. “No,” Percy breathed out, attempting to shake off his father’s support. “I’m staying. Just patch me up,” he demanded vehemently. “Perce, we need to stop the bleeding,” Bill tried to persuade him. “Then do it,” Percy growled at him. “It’s your wand arm,” Bill told him. “I’ll be fine,” Percy snapped. “Hold your wand out,” Bill challenged him. “Show me.” Percy let out an exasperated huff and gingerly reached for his wand from his father, who was holding it out to him. Trying to hide his pain from everyone, Percy set his jaw and lifted his arm up slowly, his entire arm shaking and sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. After a strained effort, his arm was finally stretched outwards his wand gripped loosely in his hand. Before Percy could demonstrate his spellwork to prove his worth, Bill hit at Percy’s elbow, causing him to erupt in a fresh cry of pain as his wand slipped out of Percy’s now slack hand. Percy grabbed at his shoulder with his right arm, doubled over in pain. “You can’t fight like that Percy,” Bill relented. “You’ll get yourself killed.” “I’m not going,” Percy hissed through the new wave of pain. “I’m not abandoning my family again,” he pressed brokenly. “You’re not abandoning us,” Arthur said as he stepped forward and put a hand on his son’s good shoulder, inviting Percy to look at him. “You’ve never abandoned us. You came back–that’s the only thing that’s ever been important. Go–get your shoulder looked at, get patched up. We’re going to you need you–but we need you healthy.” Percy kept locked onto his father’s gaze for a few more moments before bowing his head and nodding in understanding. “Come on, Perce,” Fred spoke up, offering his hand to his previously estranged brother. “Let’s get you out of here.” Percy accepted the outstretched gesture and then allowed Fred to support his weight as the two moved away from the small band. Ron and Hermione now noticed that the group included Remus, Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson, all whom looked unhurt other than scratches and cuts. “There you two are,” Remus said as he in turn noticed Ron and Hermione had joined the group. “Are you ok?” he asked, surveying them over for injuries. They both nodded. “Good,” Arthur interjected, looking slightly relieved that Percy had been the only one of his children injured and his wound was not life-threatening. So far they were all alive. “Are we heading down?” George asked when a bit of silence had overtaken them all. “With the others?” he further explained. But before anyone could answer, a white streak from a spell came bounding into the corridor where they were huddled, materializing into a lynx as it stopped in their midst. “We’ve forced them back beyond the Atrium level,” Kingsley Schacklebolt’s voice spoke from the mouth of the feline before them. “The Death Eaters have responded to some sort of call and are retreating below towards level 9. We’re regrouping before giving chase again–join us when you can,” Kingsley’s voice instructed before it faded away with the Patronus. --------------------------- ----------------------------- “Could we get some help here?!” someone shouted beyond the curtain barriers surrounding Tonks’ bed. Both Ginny and Molly looked up at the sound of the voice, instantly recognizing it. Molly pushed aside the nearest curtain to reveal Fred standing in the middle of the aisle of the hospital wing supporting Percy, whose robes were covered with blood. “Percy!” Molly cried, leaving Tonks’ side to come to her son’s aid. Ginny watched on as Fred and Molly steered Percy to a nearby bed. “Go,” Tonks said softly, squeezing Ginny’s hand and following her gaze. “I’ll be fine for the next 7 or eight minutes…until the next one comes,” she added with a small smile as she referred to the next wave of contractions she would be feeling. Ginny looked unsure of what to do, not wanting to leave Tonks alone, but wanting to go make sure Percy was ok. “I’ll scream if something starts to happen,” Tonks assured her. “I swear you’ll hear me,” Tonks said with a small laugh. “Ok,” Ginny relented softly. “I’ll be back in a bit,” Ginny said before letting go of Tonks’ hand and moving to where her mother was now tending to Percy, Fred standing beside the bed, looking on. “It missed your collarbone…nothing’s broken,” Molly said as she waved her wand over Percy’s left shoulder. As Ginny neared, she could see that Percy’s robes had been removed and his shirt ripped open to expose his torso. With his shoulders and upper body exposed, a large gaping wound in Percy’s left shoulder could be clearly seen. “He’ll be ok?” Fred asked worriedly as he watched his mother stem the bleeding and begin to clean out the wound. “You’ll be fine,” Molly assured both Fred and Percy, who had looked over at his mother at Fred’s question about his health. “I’ll clean it out and close it up. You’ll probably need to be in a sling for a few days until the nerves recover from the trauma.” Percy sighed out frustrated and let his head hit against the pillow in defeat. “Perce, stay here and get better,” Fred told him, knowing that Percy desperately wanted to get back to the Ministry. “You fought brilliantly–I saw you take out a couple of those bastards. So rest now–let us take the rest of them out,” Fred tried to assure him and encourage him that it was alright for him to remain at Hogwarts. Percy nodded reluctantly and allowed his mother to repair the wound while he relaxed. “Are you hurt?” Ginny spoke up finally, addressing Fred directly. “No,” Fred said shaking his head. “Just a couple of bruises.” “What about everyone else?” she asked, knowing that her mother too was desperate for news on any of the remaining family members fighting. “Everyone else is fine,” Fred assured them. “What’s going on?” Molly finally broke down to ask, worry and fear getting the best of her. “What’s happening at the Ministry?” “Things were evened out when we arrived with the reinforcements and we’ve pushed them back enough to secure the upper levels,” Fred explained. “When Percy and I left Dad, George, Bill, Remus, Ron and Hermione and a couple others were waiting for news from the other fighters who’d given chase to the Atrium level. Other than that–I don’t know much else.” “What about–?” Ginny began to ask. But before she could say his name, Fred shook his head. “I don’t know, Gin,” he said quietly. “We haven’t seen any of Voldemort’s inner circle yet. It’s all been recruits, lesser Death Eaters and some officials who’ve been imperiused.” Before Ginny had a real chance to respond or form any sort of assumption as to Harry’s whereabouts within the battle, a cry of pain from across the room brought her back to attention. Tonks was in pain with the next wave of contractions. Molly quickly finished up closing the wound in Percy’s shoulder, muttering healing spells under her breath as she went. “I’ll be back,” she told them hurriedly as she moved away in haste towards Tonks bedside. “Where is she going?” Percy questioned. “Who was that?” “Tonks,” Ginny explained. Fred furrowed his brows and Percy looked worriedly towards the sectioned off curtain areas where Molly had disappeared. “She’s in labor,” Ginny said with a small smile. “She’s having the baby.” “Really?” Fred blurted out as if the thought was so hard to believe. “Yes, really,” Ginny teased. “And everything’s alright?” Percy asked. “So far,” Ginny replied. “She hasn’t been at it that long…but Madam Pomfrey said she was progressing fairly quickly.” There was a moment that Fred and Percy took to process the information about the impending birth and what to make of it in the midst of such chaos. “I’ve got to get back,” Fred said suddenly, clearing his throat. “Don’t want the war to end without me now, do I?” he added. “Be careful, Fred,” Ginny said concernedly. Fred nodded, but said no more, not wanting to add anymore anxiety to the already uneasy situation. Both were saved from dwelling on Fred’s impending leave when the doors at the far end of the hospital wing banged open and two dirty and bloodstained Aurors stumbled into the wing, carrying a limp comrade between them. “We need a healer!” one of them shouted. At the sound of the desperate plea, Ginny ran over. Fleur and two other girls helping out soon followed and together they helped the two Aurors move their fallen friend to a nearby bed and then ushered the other two to beds of their own. “E’ ez gone,” Fleur said sadly as she waved her wand over the unconscious and unmoving Auror’s body as he lay on the bed between Ginny and herself. She moved her shaking hand to the man’s face and opened his eyelids, noting the state of his pupils. “There ez nothing,” she added quietly. “You’re sure?” Ginny asked in a stunned whisper. Fleur nodded and brought a hand to the man’s neck, feeling for a pulse of any sign of life. “E’ must ‘ave took a killing curse,” she said heavily. “There ez nothing we can do for ‘im.” Ginny looked stricken over the dead man’s body, not wanting to look at either of the two Aurors who had brought him in as they were being tended to. Had they known that their friend was gone when they dragged his body up to the hospital wing in search of help? Or was it that they had hoped that there was something miraculous that could be done for their fallen friend if they brought him here? Then she found herself wondering about the man’s identity. Surely Tonks knew him, but she was currently in labor, unable to name him. Did this man have a family of his own? Did he have a wife and kids who would now never see their husband and father come home to them? This wasn’t the first death that had happened in her life in the least. With the war, she knew of several people, including her own brother, Charlie, who had died fighting against Voldemort. But this was the first death she had seen up close. She hadn’t wanted to see Charlie’s body before he was buried. His injuries were gruesome and she was afraid to have those images in her mind when she remembered her brother. But here was this man before her, void of life and breath, taken in the heat of battle. “The dead are being taken to ze Great Hall,” Fleur managed in a small voice as she pulled a white sheet over the man’s body. At that moment, Ginny looked up to find one of the other Aurors staring blankly at the place where his dead comrade lay. After a second, he looked away and bowed his head in sorrow and grief. In the commotion of the new arrivals and this first experience of death from the battle, Ginny had not noticed Fred slip out and return to battle. ----------------------------- -------------------- He stood at the top of the stone steps, staring down past the rows of benches towards the center of the room. Ahead of him, Voldemort and Snape strode slowly down the tiers, Snape slightly behind Voldemort and Nagini, who were moving purposefully down into the pit. It had been two years since he had physically stepped foot in this room. He had only visited it in his nightmares and darkest moments, all of which were threatening to overwhelm him now. He did not want to be here and he could not figure out why Voldemort had brought him here. The knot in his stomach was intensifying and it was made even worse as he began to descend the steps and follow in the path of the Dark Lord towards the open amphitheater at the bottom. Each step seemed to take forever to clear and it became harder and harder to maintain his stoic exterior as he had to force himself to follow. He finally found himself at the bottom of the stairs, standing in the middle of the great rectangular room, looking up at the stone dais on which the thin, tattered veil sat hauntingly and menacingly above them, flapping silently in a non-existent breeze. If he closed his eyes for too long, he could catch glimpses of a far distant battle that had been fought here. So he tried to keep his eyes trained and wide open, tuned to his present surroundings and not the images of his past. Voldemort was standing slightly in front of him, gazing curiously and quite interestedly into the flapping, ghostly fabric, stroking at the head of Nagini almost absentmindedly. “My Lord,” Snape spoke quietly as it seemed the expectant silence between the three was growing to an excruciating level. “Be quiet, Severus,” Voldemort hissed softly without turning to look at Snape or make any other move at all; Though the tone of his reply was full of a dangerous annoyance at Snape’s words. There was anger bubbling just beneath Voldemort’s seemingly serene surface. Snape chanced a glance at Harry and Harry was surprised to see that there was a sense of worry and uneasiness etched in Snape’s features at being dismissed so quickly. “Why don’t you both just take a moment and–listen–for once,” Voldemort spoke again in a hushed voice, still not bothering to turn and address the other two face to face. Harry heard Voldemort take in a deep breath through his nostrils and let it out slowly, as if drinking in the atmosphere in the room. “Do you hear them?” Voldemort whispered into the air. “Can you hear them just beyond?” For the first time since entering the Death Chamber, very quiet whispers could be discerned from the soft rustling of the veil. They were the same soft murmurs that had assailed his ears during his first trip to this room. But the whispers were not as clear or as loud as the last time. He had to strain to pick them out of the air. Whatever had been calling to him before was now too disconnected to reach him now. “What is it they say to you?” Voldemort asked quietly, not turning his body to address them, but looking slightly over his shoulder in their general direction. “What is it they want?” Neither Snape nor Harry answered the questions that had been cast. “I never can tell,” Voldemort said in a slightly louder voice, sighing deeply before turning to face them. “But I cannot deny they intrigue me nonetheless,” he said as he looked from Harry to Snape, gauging their reactions to being brought here and left in virtual silence for the past few minutes. “But there’s another thing here that intrigues me and fascinates me almost as much as this veil and what lies within it does,” Voldemort said slowly to both of them. “It’s something that I have been trying to wrap my mind around–but sadly have sorely neglected for–fear–of being mistaken,” he continued, emphasizing the word ‘fear’ as if he had been anything but in reality. “It seems to me that I have been undermined–betrayed even,” Voldemort spoke into the air, the slits for his nostrils contracting even as the rest of his face remained impassive. “My two most trusted and most esteemed servants seem to have taken it upon themselves to conspire behind my back,” Voldemort hissed, shaking his head slightly in disbelief at his own words. “And what I have to ask myself–is how they thought they could possibly do so without me noticing? “ Voldemort continued his voice stronger and the anger in his voice becoming more evident. Panic began to overrun Harry’s brain. How could he know that Snape had been helping him control and regain himself? They had been careful. They hadn’t even met face to face that often. Harry was sure that they had covered their tracks; did everything they could to remain unknown and unnoticed. But even worse than their activities being found out, was the fear and dread that came with not knowing why Voldemort had picked now to confront them and what he was planning on doing by bringing them here. The anxiety of it all was becoming too much for Harry to handle and he was sure this emotion, in such close proximity to Voldemort, would not go unnoticed even though he was trying to remain composed externally. He didn’t dare look at Snape right now. “What is it they thought they were doing?” Voldemort asked himself aloud as he turned his back on both of them. “What is it they thought they would be achieving by throwing away every bit of trust and confidence they had succeeded in earning?” he asked again, speaking to both the quiet room and the two men standing behind him. “My Lord–“ Snape began to say quietly, his voice uneven. “My Lord–you–you don’t–“ Snape struggled to get out. “Be quiet, Severus,” Voldemort snapped as he quickly twirled around to face the pale, sallow-faced man. “Do not even begin to think that you’re going to be able to explain your way out of this. You chose your allegiance…you made your choice,” Voldemort told Snape harshly. “What is it that drove you to this though?” Voldemort asked, his face only inches from Snape’s. “Have I not done everything for you? Have I not taken you under my care–allowed you back into my circle when I had feared that you had been lost to the comfort of your surroundings that Dumbledore had provided you?” “I have, Severus,” Voldemort answered his own questions. “But as I see now–you have been lost. It has perhaps been my greatest blunder to have ever thought that I could welcome you back and believe that you could truly be loyal to me.” “But to see–that after all of the power and authority I’ve given you–that Dumbledore’s sway holds so much for you that you’d be driven to collaborate to destroy me–“ Voldemort said before pausing. “Well–that’s beyond reconciliation, Severus. That puts you beyond–forgiveness.” The coldness in his voice hung on the air, seemingly dropping the temperature in the room to a level that matched his malice. Voldemort took a few steps from Snape and turned away from him, creating separation between the two. He stood there for a moment, still and unwavering, before bowing his head slightly as if he had resigned to a realization that had just come to him. And then, before there could be any sort of reaction or defensive movement on anyone’s part, Voldemort turned, wand clutched tightly in his hand. The words left Voldemort’s lipless mouth and the green light from the tip of his wand before any of it could register with anyone. The spell hit Snape square in the chest and he crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud. His eyes, open and unseeing, his lungs void of life and breath. Severus Snape was dead. Harry could only stand and stare at the spot where Snape had fallen, feeling a small sense of guilt for the act. Snape had been helping him, risking his life to make sure Harry would be able to be in his right mind and have the tools enough to face Voldemort and end this war. And now he had been killed for his actions; murdered in cold blood for his deeds. Concerned with these thoughts at the moment, Harry had not realized that Voldemort had now turned his sole attention to him. Voldemort was staring intently at Harry, his red eyes narrowed and dangerous. “And you…” Voldemort hissed accusingly, snapping Harry to attention. “Take down that silly hood,” Voldemort sneered as his eyes did not waver from Harry. “You neither deserve to don it nor will it do you any good to hide behind it anymore.” Harry stood there for a moment, feeling very inclined to defy the order and infuriate Voldemort even more by his insubordination. But feeling as though adding fuel to the fire was not going to be wise in the end for him, he slowly reached up and slid the hood away from his face and let it fall down his back, revealing himself. Voldemort let out a heavy sigh and then began to slowly circle Harry, who stood rooted to the spot. “I really did have faith and confidence in your promise, Potter, “ Voldemort admitted in a strangely disappointed sounding voice. “I truly did believe that–together–we could achieve great things…if only you could embrace the gifts you have been given and realize what uses they could be put to.” “But you have failed to seize those opportunities,” Voldemort continued. “And it is nobody’s fault but your own. I put the world in your hands, Harry–and you’ve thrown it all away by continuing to allow your emotions and your weaknesses to cloud your judgment and lead you astray. You chose to play with the fire, Harry. You chose to defy me and to push away the world I opened up within you.” “So by doing so, you have sealed your own fate now,” Voldemort said quietly. “I’ve decided that the only way to remedy this situation and make sure that my misguided trust in you hasn’t injured things beyond repair…I must–cut away–the cancer and accept my losses.” As he said these words, his eyes roved over Harry dangerously, his gaze lingering over Harry’s frame. But as he did so, the first sounds that might indicate that a full-scale battle was raging on in the same building as them reached Harry’s ears. There were several loud explosions and there were slight reverberations that could be felt through the soles of Harry’s boots as they traveled through the stone floor and walls around them. A sudden wave of both fear and exhilaration flooded through him at the noises. The battle was getting closer and the security that the Death Eaters had ensured Voldemort must have been challenged somehow to have them pushed back this far. The Order must have arrived with reinforcements. And the way it sounded, they were gaining ground and succeeding in battering the Death Eater’s surges. That meant his friends were nearby. They had come to his aid, fulfilled their promises they had made to be there in the end to fight at his side. The pang of fear he felt was for their safety. He knew that they had willingly come and were ready to put their lives on the line for freedom. But he did not want any of them to actually realize that risk. For a moment, Harry had forgotten Voldemort was still standing before him, positioned between Harry and the bottom the stone steps, blocking the way out. But as he spoke again, Harry was forced to focus back on Voldemort. It did not seem that he heard the sounds of the nearing confrontation or perhaps, he did not care that the battle was coming closer. “I’m no longer interested in preserving the piece of myself within in you,” Voldemort said in a low voice. “In fact, I think I’ll be better off not having to worry about a rogue renegade harboring something so important. I’m done with you, Potter…you’ve outlived your usefulness to me.” ‘This is it’ Harry thought to himself as loud shouts could be heard from the upper tiers surrounding the chamber. There were fighters on the topmost steps, Death Eaters retreating and firing defensive spells as other figures pushed them back. ‘This is the end,’ Harry thought as both horrible and wonderful, thrilling feelings filled him. He would need to act soon before Voldemort went any further and struck on his promise to destroy Harry, Horcrux and all. He would need to fight now, using all of the skills and the spellwork he had learned while having been under the tutelage of the man he was now trying to defeat. His adrenaline began to pump and fill him with a taught anxiety that now had all of his senses on alert. But alongside the building crescendo of emotion that was prepping him for this final battle, there was a part of him deep inside that was filling with the most profound sense of fear he had ever felt. Not fear of the upcoming fight and the hardship it would certainly be, but a fear of what surely had to come–no matter the outcome. Today would be his last day on this Earth. The next few moments, his next few breaths…they would be his last. Win or lose, by Voldemort’s hand or by his own wand–he was going to die today. He had known inevitably that this moment would come; it would have to come in order for Voldemort to truly be defeated and any chance of his return taken away. But now that the moment was here and the brutal reality of it all was manifesting itself before him, he could feel every shred of confidence and bravery unraveling from within. He was scared to die; scared to leave this life behind for the next. And no amount of telling himself otherwise could change that. “It is time for you to go, Harry,” Voldemort spoke again as more and more Death Eaters began to scramble and stumble back down the steps and rows towards the center dais. Other fighters were now visible, yelling and shouting at the retreating Death Eaters as their spells filled the air around them. But the two figures in the center of the room remained locked on each other, oblivious to the chaos erupting around them. “You’ve been silent so far, Potter,” Voldemort sneered as his eyes continued to stare unblinkingly at Harry. “Surely there’s something you’d like to say to me before I kill you?” Harry continued to return Voldemort’s intense gaze. Of course there were things he wanted to say. He could fill several large books with all the things he wanted to tell Voldemort. But he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of goading him into begging or repenting to him. So he remained silent and defiant. 'Kill him…Kill him' a voice hissed in urgent and excited tones from inside of Harry’s own head. But it had not been his own consciousness or Voldemort who had uttered those words. But in all reality, the entity that had said them could be thought as one in the same. In one earth-splitting moment of revelation, Harry realized that he had not succeeded in tying up all the loose ends that would allow him to take on Voldemort and make a clean end of it all. There was one lose strand he had failed to cut. There was not just one Horcrux remaining…there were two. But luckily for Harry, there would be no month long search across Britain this time. This Horcrux was close at hand…very close. He could feel the snake’s presence in both his mind and physically beside him, coiled up and watching the exchange between its master and its master’s adversary. He could sense Nagini’s excitement mixing with his own. He knew he would only have a moment to strike. Much more than that and Voldemort would not give him a chance to do so. Harry was surprised that Voldemort had left his precious Nagini so alone and vulnerable in the first place. But he was not going to chance waiting any longer to act. This needed to be done before anything else could take place…before the real battle could begin. During this time, Harry’s eyes had not left Voldemort’s and his expression had not wavered. He was determined not to give him any edge or any indication to his thoughts and his forthcoming actions. He would have to move quickly and decisively. As soon as he went for his wand, Voldemort would be on him. He had no room for error or wasted movement. More fighters were now spilling into the amphitheater now, spreading out all around the rectangular room, carrying on their dueling as they surrounded the center dais. Harry, trained on Voldemort’s scarlet, slit like eyes, saw them widen in the moment of realization just as Harry grabbed for his wand, slashing it through the air in one fluid movement towards his side. He felt, rather than saw his slicing curse connect at the base of Nagini’s great head, cutting through her immense muscular body, severing one from the other. Harry watched as, in slow motion, the quivering body of the massive snake fell to the ground with a thud, the head hitting just after Voldemort’s enraged scream filled the cavernous room. As he watched the last electrical impulses attempt to fire the muscles in the body of the slain snake, causing it to twitch and writhe feebly, Harry felt an intense rush of cold wash over his entire body. It felt as though he had been submerged in an icy water bath, the extreme chill wracking him to his very bones. It was as if all the warmth in his body had gone, leaving him void of any comfort and solace. With the onset of the coldness, he briefly wondered what sort of–payment–he was giving now by destroying Nagini and the Horcrux within. But before he could put anymore thought into it, he saw a red light erupt before him just before it slammed into his chest, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying back towards the dais and the veil. He was only allowed a fleeting moment of horror as he sailed backwards, helplessly through the air, realizing too late the path of his flight before everything went black. ------------------------------ --------------------- Remus ducked quickly behind a stone pillar just as a Killing curse was flung his way. It smashed into the backside of the pillar, sending large chunks of stone flying through the air, the energy from the missed spell crackling through the air and making his hair stand on end as it passed around him. Remus moved out from behind the barrier and shot off a succession of his own slicing and blasting curses, then parried off the return spells from the hooded Death Eater he had been engaging. He fired off another round of spells and this time a blasting curse hit its target, causing the Death Eater to stumble backwards, allowing a nearby fellow fighter to finish him off and send the him flying limply down the stone steps. Remus watched the fallen Death Eater’s trajectory as he hit with a sickening crunch halfway down, lying motionless where he had met the edge of the bench. All around him, friends and foes were fighting and dueling, spells creating a strobe-light affect around the room as the battle spilled out into the Death Chamber and the tiers of stone benches surrounding it. They had followed and then pushed back the force of Death Eaters to this place and they were doing their best to finish them off. Remus’s eyes roved around the room, spotting Ron and Hermione to his left, further down the rows of benches throwing volleys of spells towards a group of Death Eaters they were trying to force down into the center of the amphitheater. As he watched the various duels and fights go on around him, his eyes flickered over the center of the room and the two figures that were standing apart from everyone else, oblivious to the fighting going on around them. Harry! Remus gasped to himself as elation and fear tore through his heart at the sight of the black-haired young man. He was relieved to see Harry here, alive and real. But that momentary relief was pushed aside by a sense of anxious pang of dread. Harry and Voldemort seemed to be engaged in one another, staring each other down in a silent battle of wills. Remus’s eyes had only been on the pair but a few seconds when Harry’s wand arm slashed through the air in a precise and calculated movement, almost a blur to anyone watching. The white light emitted from the end of it sliced into the great snake that Remus now saw sat coiled to one side. The head of the snake severed under the contact of Harry’s curse, hitting the ground just as an enraged scream filled the cavernous room. The sound was awful and terrifying, a noise from the bellows of hell itself. Every fighter, good or bad, froze at the yell. Duels were abandoned and every head turned in the direction of the source just as a wave of power ripped from Voldemort’s wand. The ball of red light sped across the few feet between the two men in a blink of an eye, hitting Harry squarely in the chest before he could react, sending him flying backwards through the air. Remus’s own cry of horror mixed in with desperate shouts of disbelief and cries of Harry’s name that erupted from around the chamber. In slow motion every single fighter in the room watched as Harry soared helplessly towards the veil, his limbs flailing in vain to halt his plight. Remus wanted to look away, to close his eyes and keep himself from having to have this horrifying image forever burned in his mind. But like some horrible dream that he could not escape, he found he could not tear his gaze from the tortuous slow motion nightmare unfolding before him. Harry was going to fall through the veil and there was nothing that any of them could do about it. But just as Harry reached the ending arch of his terrifying fall from grace, he instead hit the crumbling, ancient stone archway holding up the veil. His body contacted the unforgiving stone with a sickening crack, his head and back slamming hard into the solid stone before he crumpled to the dais in an unmoving heap. All air seemed to have left the chamber and time seemed to have come to a standstill. Everyone was focused on the event unfolding in the center of the chamber, all thoughts of continuing the fighting thrown out momentarily as they watched on. Then, nearly as horrible and bone-chilling as his scream had been, Voldemort began to laugh. With every second, it grew louder and more sadistic, echoing off the benches and steps of the chamber. As the sound carried on, the Death Eaters still standing began to move down the benches towards their master, their wands trained threateningly on their stunned opponents who were made up of Aurors, Ministry officials, Order members, students past and present and a few scattered witches and wizards who had answered the call. The Death Eaters congregated around the outer edges of the center pit, forming a u-shaped assemblage around the far side of it, facing their master and the unconscious Harry Potter still lying motionless on the platform. In equal measure, the scattered band of Ministry fighters began to trickle down into the rows of benches, instinctively wanting to give chase and yet afraid of what they were seeing before them. But as quickly as it had started, the laughing abruptly stopped and Voldemort stared at the spot where Harry had fallen. Harry was now stirring, attempting to regain himself. He clutched at the back of his head and neck, groaning in pain as he did so. With his right arm, he tried to prop himself up and attempted to pull himself to his knees. As he did this, Voldemort re-clutched his wand and waited anxiously. Harry finally succeeded in pulling himself to one knee, rubbing at the back of his head as he looked up to find Voldemort surveying him like a predator over his prey. “That hurt, didn’t it?” Voldemort sneered in obvious enjoyment of Harry’s pain. “A bit,” Harry sneered back as he struggled to maintain his breathing. “But honestly, I’ve had much worse of a headache from a hangover than this,” he added as he pulled himself to his feet and full height. “Go ahead…joke, continue to show me cheek,” Voldemort warned. “It will not help you or cover up and hide the fear I see in you.” Harry did not respond, but looked up over Voldemort’s head to view the scores of witches and wizards who had come to his aid. His eyes scanned over his friends, his schoolmates, and his family as they made their way down the steps to join the Death Eaters in surrounding both he and Voldemort. The players were all there. The stage was set…it was time. “Alright then,” Harry sighed, rolling his neck to get rid of the soreness he felt and feeling a calm confidence well up inside him and assure him. “Everyone’s here…I’ve killed your dear Nagini…” Harry began, casting the dead snake a glance. “What do you say we get this thing started then, Tom?” he finished casually, feeling oddly cocky and poised in his words. Voldemort’s eyes narrowed at the use of his given name. “Destroying Nagini will be your last victory, Potter,” Voldemort hissed. “Why don’t you take a moment to enjoy it…it’s your last after all.” Harry felt a sick smile of his own creep across his lips. “How considerate of you,” Harry replied. “But let’s not forget our audience here,” he continued as he gestured around to the silent fighters gathered around them. “Why don’t we give them the show they came here for, Tom?” Harry continued to goad Voldemort. “This is, after all, going to be a battle for all ages…one that will not soon be forgotten. They’ll be writing about us for years to come. Why wait to cement our name in history?” “The only thing they’ll be writing about you is to mention that it was an incompetent seventeen year old boy who doomed the world and allowed my rise to power, “ Voldemort sneered. “Your name will be wiped from every book, every scrap of paper, and stricken from every straying thought. I will make sure of it. No one--will remember Harry Potter after this day. It will be as if you’d never existed.” “We shall see,” Harry said quietly. There was a moment of silent reckoning, a collective calm before the storm. And then, raising their wands in synchronized movement, chaos broke out in the center of the chamber. The beginning of the end was upon them. A/N: Sorry that this took so long. School’s been crazy and I’ve just finally gotten enough time to finish it. This is a long one…but a lot of the events happen at the same time, as we see here at the two ending sections…so I hope that isn’t too confusing. We’re here…it’s the final battle…hang on! |
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