Chapter 47: Still In This Fight
Hogwarts, December 20th 1997
It is almost three in the morning. Almost the time when Voldemort is expecting me to meet him in the Forbidden Forest.
Quietly, I walk down the stairs, under my Invisibility Cloak, feeling numb, feeling empty. I can only think of destroying him, because that is the only thing that gives me strength to go to him. To finish what he started.
I wish it could've happened differently, and not like this; walking up to him, accepting death, and not raise my wand against him; I wish, I could die in a fight and leave this place like my parents did, like Sirius did, like Tonks and Mr. Weasley did...
The corridors are empty, as everyone is still in the Great Hall. It makes this easier, to not see them – the ones who will survive and live to see the next day.
As I reach the stairs that lead to the Entrance Hall, I see Neville and Oliver Wood, carrying a body from outside. Something sinks in my stomach.
Colin Creevey.
I watch, as Wood takes Creevey's body alone towards the Great Hall, and how Neville stays there, at the front doors, looking wearily ahead. I look at him, and then make my decision. I don't know if neither Ron nor Regulus have the strength to do it anymore, not after what they have lost. And I just can't put it all on Hermione. She has done so much already, lost so much. Neville will be now the fourth one to bear the knowledge, to know the way to destroy Voldemort, once and for all.
I walk silently to Neville, passing the doors to the Great Hall, from where voices and movement carry over, and as I stop beside Neville, I pull the Cloak off.
It takes a second for Neville to realise I'm there.
" – Bloody hell, Harry!"
"Hi Neville." I say quietly, looking ahead at the dark grounds.
Neville narrows his eyes at me. "What are you doing in here?"
I give him a long look. "I have something I need to do…"
Neville shakes his head, his eyes widening with realisation. "No, Harry, you don't – "
"I'm not going to hand myself in, Neville," I lie, my voice tight, "But listen," I continue, "The snake needs to be destroyed. Voldemort's snake, you know it?"
Neville gives me a slow nod. "Yeah, I've heard of it."
"Kill the snake."
Neville doesn't question anything. "All right," He says firmly.
I give him one last nod, before taking a step forward. Neville takes a hold of my wrist before I'm out of reach.
"We're not giving up, Harry, you know that, right?" Neville asks quietly. "We're fighting until the end."
My throat constricts as his words sink in. I nod at him jerkily, and Neville seems to understand. He lets me go, and I throw the Cloak back over myself, and walk towards the forest, my breath making small clouds of mist in the cold air.
I don't look back.
I pass Hagrid's hut, now empty and dark, and I wonder if Hagrid survived. I force away all the memories about Hagrid, that threaten to overwhelm me, and keep my focus on the forest. At the edge of it, I see them.
Dementors, gliding amongst the trees, waiting for their prey.
I let out a shuddering breath, knowing that I can't do it anymore. I have no hope, I have no happy thoughts. I'm in the end, and the chapter that has been my life, is closing.
I open at the close.
With a gasp, I quickly retrieve something, I didn't even remember carrying with me. Something that had stuck at my neck, even through the incident at Malfoy Manor.
The pouch, and the Snitch inside it.
I pull the small, golden ball out and stare at it for a moment. And then, I understand the meaning behind the words.
I bring the ball to my lips, whispering the words. The golden ball breaks into two, and inside...
The Resurrection Stone.
Pushing the remains of the Snitch back to the pouch, I take the stone in my hand, and look at it, bitterness and amazement mixing inside me, as I marvel Dumbledore's plan again; how he had thought of everything. How he had known how to push me through the last obstacles, how he had known how to give me strength to take the last steps.
I close my eyes, and turn the stone over in my hand three times, thinking of them. Thinking of my loved ones.
Even before I open my eyes, I know it worked. I know they are there. Blinking my eyes open, I see my parents, smiling at me.
I look at my father, who looks so much like me, with his untidy hair sticking into different directions, his long nose, and mouth, that are shaped like mine.
I look at my mother, with her long hair and her bright green eyes, the exact copy of mine.
"You've been so brave," Lily says softly, her eyes moving across my face.
I gaze her in awe. I can only think, what it would have been like, to grow up with her alive, to talk with her, to be hugged by her.
"You are nearly there, Harry," James says calmly.
I turn to look at him, and at the way he looks at me, with a reassuring and pleased look in his eyes, I feel…at ease.
"You're very close. We are so proud of you," James continues, a fond smile on his lips.
I nod at him, swallowing hard through the tightness in my throat. Knowing I have to ask. "Does it hurt?"
James shakes his head. "No. It will be like falling asleep. He will want to do it fast. You will not suffer, Harry."
I take in a shuddering breath. "I wish you didn't have to die for me," I say, my voice shaking. "I wish no one had to – "
"Harry," Lily says kindly, watching me with a loving smile. "You're our son, Harry. We would do it a thousand times again, and not have it any other way," she whispers.
My throat constricts. "Sirius…Mr. Weasley…and Tonks…"
James levels me with a firm look. "Harry. They all chose to fight against Voldemort. You cannot blame yourself for what happened. They chose to fight for their loved ones, to protect them, like you are now choosing."
We stay quiet for a while, before I nod, more to myself than them. "Will you stay with me?" I ask, somehow knowing that the Dementors will have no effect on me, as long as I have my parents on my side. "Will they see you?"
"They will not see us, Harry. And we will stay until the very end," James says calmingly.
I shiver in the cold weather, tugging my cloak closer, before taking in a deep breath, nodding again. I then walk forward, under the Invisibility Cloak, with my mother and father beside me, passing Dementors with ease, moving deeper, and deeper into the forest. I look at them, my parents, and somehow…they are more real to me now, than everyone else in the castle; who seem like they are already a mere memory.
After a while, we spot two Death Eaters; Yaxley and Dolohov, and I follow them, knowing where they will lead me. Knowing, that soon, I will face him, and face death. Soon, I will stop existing. Soon, I will be with my parents.
We reach our destination, where the Death Eaters, most of them without their masks, stand silently, surrounding a clearing with fire flickering in the middle of it, surrounding Voldemort, who stands in front of the fire. Waiting for me.
As Yaxley and Dolohov report the news to their master; that there were no signs of me, Voldemort lifts his head, examining the fire.
"I am…disappointed. I thought he would come," Voldemort says with his cold voice.
There's a tense silence. I pull off the Cloak and push it inside my robes with my wand. I look at my parents, one last time, before moving my gaze at the Resurrection Stone in my hand, dropping it to the frozen ground, knowing that he cannot have it. That even if Voldemort would get the Cloak from me, he would never be the Master of Death.
"…It seems, that I was…mistaken," Voldemort says slowly.
"You weren't." I say with a clear voice, stepping closer to the clearing.
Seeing me there, causes some commotion amongst Voldemort's troops. Several Death Eaters yell and gasp in surprise, pulling out their wands, while a couple of Giants on the other side of the clearing stand up, roaring in a way that makes the ground tremble.
"NO!" A voice yells, as I walk forward, until I'm facing him, Voldemort, on the other side of the fire.
"NO HARRY, NO!"
It's Hagrid. I glance at the voice, and see him there, tied into a large tree. He yells again, but is immediately silenced. He keeps staring at me with terror in his beetle black eyes.
Everyone watches me with surprise and excitement, but I only focus on him. Voldemort.
I watch, as the red eyes glint with contemplation, with triumph, as they assess me.
"Harry Potter," Voldemort says softly. "The Boy Who Lived. The boy…who came to die."
There's a tense silence. It starts to snow, slowly, gently, the snowflakes melting before even reaching the ground.
I look at the red eyes, not seeing him, not Voldemort.
I see them. Regulus, Hermione, Ron, Sirius, my parents, Lupin, Tonks, the Weasleys. All of them.
The Elder Wand is lifted up, and Voldemort's mouth is moving, but I'm already someplace else. I'm not in the clearing, where dozens of Death Eaters watch with bursting excitement, where Hagrid's cheeks are wet with tears.
I'm at Hogwarts, sitting at my house table, laughing with them; Ron and Hermione. I'm at Grimmauld Place, watching from the doorframe of the drawing room, as Sirius and Regulus finally meet each other, finally reunited. I'm at the Burrow, laughing as Fred and George are being reprimanded by their father, who then winks at his sons in the end. I'm at Godric's Hollow, hugged by my mother, smiled upon by my father…
There's a flash of green light, and then…nothing.
Silence…and light.
I blink my eyes open, and realise that I'm lying; lying face down against a flat surface.
Pulling myself up slowly, I look down at my body, which is surprisingly intact. I watch my fingers moving, marvelling the fact that I'm still able to do so.
But what is happening? I – I died. Voldemort killed me.
Is this…is this heaven?
I look around me, and everything is white. As my eyes move, surfaces and edges are forming, coming into existence; a domed glass roof, high above, in sunlight; a hall of sorts, so large that I can't see the end of it.
Everything is quiet, and the place is empty, but suddenly, there's something making a noise. Something pitiful. Something…struggling.
And then I see it; a small form on the ground, not far from me. I shudder as I look at it; burned skin on a distorted body, left there, unwanted.
I walk closer, even though I feel…revolted by it.
"You cannot help."
I turn around, and there he is. Albus Dumbledore. Watching me calmly, his robes swishing quietly as he walks towards me.
Somehow, I'm not surprised to see him. It is, as if, I was expecting him.
"Harry." Dumbledore says, smiling at me. "You wonderful boy. You brave, brave man. Let us walk."
I follow him, and after a short walk, we sit down, at the two white seats in the middle of our path.
I watch Dumbledore in silence, and he looks just like I remember him; the same crooked nose, the same half-moon spectacles, and the same bright blue eyes twinkling behind them. His both hands are white, and untarnished. His robes are clean and intact, the dark blue fabric flowing to the floor.
I want to be angry at him, I really do. But…I also need him to explain everything to me. I need the answers more.
"You're dead." I tell him, a small frown between my brows. Because this can't be real. "Am I dead too?"
Dumbledore hums thoughtfully. "I am dead, Harry," He says softly, and then, his eyes move over my face, looking carefully. "But as for you…I think…you can decide. If you wish to go back, I mean."
I gape at him, and then, I urge him to explain it to me, because it just seems…mad.
After a moment, after hearing Dumbledore's thoughts, after learning how exactly could I even be alive, I stare blankly ahead. "It was…my mother, all over again," I mutter.
Dumbledore smiles at me. "Voldemort took your blood, thinking it would strengthen him, knowing that it would allow him to touch you. What he didn't understand, is that by doing so, he kept the enchantment, and your mother's sacrifice alive."
I nod, feeling empty, feeling stunned by this revelation. "And my wand?"
"Your wand…when you overpowered Voldemort, that night at the cemetery, purely by your courage, I believe your wand – it took some of Voldemort's power in it. And the next time your wand met him, it recognised Voldemort. It protected you against him."
I look at him. "My wand holds Voldemort's powers in it?" I ask apprehensively.
Dumbledore nods thoughtfully. "Only against him. Only against Voldemort."
There's a long silence.
"The Deathly Hallows," I say, needing him to explain it.
Dumbledore lowers his head, letting out a sigh. "The Hallows…they exist."
"Can you forgive me?" he then says, looking at me with regret in his eyes. "Can you forgive me for not trusting you? For not telling you? Harry, I only feared that you would fail as I had failed. I only dreaded that you would make my mistakes. I crave your pardon, Harry. I have known, for some time now, that you are the better man."
I frown at him. "What do you mean?"
There are tears in Dumbledore's eyes. "I was a fool. I tried. I aimed to be better, I wanted to be better…"
"Be what?" I ask, stunned by his behaviour.
"The Master of Death, Harry," Dumbledore says quietly, a rueful smile on his lips. "It seems, that I wasn't strong enough. Like you are."
I don't really understand what he means.
"You know what it cost me as I searched for them, as I pursued them. You know about my sister, Harry?" Dumbledore asks faintly.
I nod at him. "Yeah, I know."
Dumbledore lets out a weary sigh. "You cannot despise me more than I despise myself."
"But I don't despise you –"
"Then you should," Dumbledore says calmly. "My sister was ill, and I should've been there for her. I should've been there for my brother. But I cared more about the quest. More about finding the Hallows with Grindelwald. More about our great plans to benefit the whole wizarding world! I wanted more from life, Harry, than what I should've done," he says bitterly.
"And then…My brother tried to stop me, tried to make sense in me," Dumbledore says with a sad smile. "We duelled. Grindelwald, he…lost control. He became what I always knew he was underneath, but chose to disregard. And Ariana…she paid the price."
Tears now flow freely down Dumbledore's crooked nose.
He continues after a short moment, after pulling himself slightly together. "And then, years went by, and I hid inside the Hogwarts walls, keeping myself safe there, knowing, that in there, I was not tempted by power. I busied myself with the training of young wizards, while Grindelwald…he was raising an army. They say he feared me, and perhaps he did, but less, I think, than I feared him…I feared the truth, Harry," He says, giving me a remorseful smile.
"I feared, that I would finally find out, who it had been. Who had killed my sister. And the thought, that it had been me, was…unbearable. I was a coward. And I think…Grindelwald knew it. He knew what I feared," Dumbledore says with a deep sigh. "Until finally, I had to face him. And you know what happened then. I won the duel. I won the wand."
I stay silent, watching ahead, remembering what I saw, when Voldemort went to kill Grindelwald. I tell Dumbledore, that Grindelwald tried to prevent Voldemort from getting the wand, by lying to him, and Dumbledore nods weakly.
"It was said, that Grindelwald showed remorse during his last years. I hope that is true. I would like to think that he did feel the horror and shame of what he had done. Perhaps that lie to Voldemort was his attempt to make amends, and to prevent Voldemort from taking the Hallow, from becoming invincible."
I nod at him, slowly. "Or…maybe he did it, because he didn't want Voldemort breaking into your tomb?"
Dumbledore takes in a shuddering breath.
"You are the worthy possessor of the Hallows, Harry. Not Grindelwald. Not me," He says, watching me searchingly. "Only you would have the strength to not use them. Only you would have the strength to use them when it is necessary."
I stare at him, stunned by his words, the anger towards him seeping away from my chest.
"But why did you have to make it so difficult?" I ask, only partly exasperated.
Dumbledore lets out a small chuckle. "I was counting on your friends, Harry. Counting on them, to slow you down, to look at all the angles, before you acted on your emotions. I wanted to give the Hallows to you, at the right time, even though I now see that perhaps you would have reached the same outcome," he says, and I give him a bewildered frown.
"You are the true master of death, because the true master does not seek to run away from Death. He accepts that he must die, and understands that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying."
I take in a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed by Dumbledore's words, and then, a thought comes to me. "Did Voldemort know about the Hallows?"
Dumbledore shakes his head slightly. "I assume he did not. He didn't recognise the stone, when he made the Horcrux, and I doubt that he would've been interested in the stone or the Cloak. He would've thought his magic was enough, that he didn't need the Cloak. And as for the stone…Voldemort fears the dead. He does not love."
"But the wand…"
Dumbledore smiles. "Yes, Harry, I was sure he would go after the wand. And you know already what I agreed with Professor Snape," He says, wearily. "I intended for him to get the wand."
"It didn't work out, did it? Voldemort's got the Elder Wand."
Dumbledore inclines his head. "That is true. However, should you decide to return, I believe, that there is a chance that he may be finished for good."
I stare ahead, thinking of my parents, and everyone who already died for me, who died fighting Voldemort.
Dumbledore hums next to me, as if guessing my thoughts. "By returning, you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart. If that seems to you a worthy goal, then…you know what to do."
After a long silence, I look at the old Headmaster, and give him a small nod.
I know what to do.
We both stand up, and Dumbledore gives me one last smile, before turning his back, before walking away.
"Wait." I say to him, and Dumbledore stills, turning back to me. "Is this real? Our conversation? Or is this happening inside my head?"
Dumbledore smiles widely at me, suddenly looking blurred, and sounding very distant. "Of course, it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?"
I smell the forest again, and feel my Invisibility Cloak under my robes, between my stomach and the cold forest floor. My body aches, my limbs are twisted into odd directions, but I don't dare to move. Because I'm back. I'm alive. And I'm in the middle of a clearing, filled by Death Eaters, and…Voldemort.
I listen carefully. There're murmuring sounds. Hurried movements, whispering.
" – My Lord?" Bellatrix's voice whispers. She sounds…worried.
Did – did something happen to Voldemort?
Then, Voldemort speaks. "Move aside," He snarls hastily, sounding out of breath. "I do not require assistance!"
Something definitely happened. Did…did Voldemort feel it? When the piece of his soul was destroyed? Did he collapse like I did, as a result?
"Examine the boy," Voldemort says suddenly. "See if the boy is dead!"
Fear trickles down my spine, and I suppress a swallow, trying to hold myself still. They will see, and they will notice, as soon as someone comes closer. They will know. At the latest when they feel my pulse and feel my heart beating, and feel my warm body against the cold ground, they'll know that I am alive.
A moment later, I feel someone's presence. Hands; small, soft – a woman's hands – are examining me, feeling my neck, feeling my chest.
Then, a whisper, almost silent, spoken right next to my ear. "Is Draco alive?"
"Yes." I breathe back, forcing myself to stay still, as Narcissa stands up.
"He is dead!" Narcissa says with a clear voice.
Instantly, cheering sounds fill the air, mixing up with laughter and whoops of joy.
Through the yells, through the laughter, I hear Voldemort, laughing, and then, "You see!? I killed Harry Potter! Harry Potter is dead!"
More cheering sounds.
"Watch!" Voldemort shouts. "CRUCIO!"
Expecting it to come, I focus on staying limp, as Voldemort's curse lifts me into the air, deciding not to feel the pain.
But there is nothing. The pain…is not there. Only thing I can feel, is the air ruffling my hair, and the frozen grass against my cheeks as my body falls back down.
Several Death Eaters laugh merrily at the show, and Voldemort too lets out a contented sigh, before he speaks again, now sounding…excited. "We shall go to the castle, and show them – let them know who is the most powerful wizard! We shall show them, what has become of their…saviour," he says mockingly.
Howls of laughter erupts again, mixing into jeering sounds and screams of joy.
And then – I suppress a gasp of distress, as Voldemort orders Hagrid to carry me back to the school.
The half-giant takes me gently in his arms, weeping silently, holding me carefully, as he follows Voldemort and his troops towards the school, whispering my name in despair.
At the edge of the forest, Voldemort orders everyone to stop, and then, with his magnified and cold voice carrying over the grounds, and over the school, he speaks.
"Harry Potter is dead! He tried to run away, he abandoned you, while you all fought bravely for him, while many of your side gave their lives for him!" Voldemort yells, and several Death Eaters shout their agreements.
"You have lost. My fighters outnumber you. You have no leader anymore."
"But…the Dark Lord is forgiving! I will accept you, to join me, if you come forth without resistance," Voldemort continues, a cold satisfaction in his voice.
"…However, anyone who dares to oppose me, will be killed," He finishes, and then, his voice back to normal, he chuckles as his followers yell triumphantly and laugh at the prospect of killing someone.
My eyes are trained at Lupin, as we listen to the Dark Lord's words. As we hear what he says.
Harry Potter…dead.
It can't be true. He can't be…he can't be gone.
Lupin's brow furrows, and more and more around us, people start to whisper, to gasp, to cry in dread. I stare at Lupin, frozen in place, trying to decide if what has been said, is a lie. My mind is empty, and my chest is heavy with anxiousness, with nausea.
He can't be dead.
"Let's go," Lupin whispers, shakily.
I follow him, walk behind the crowd, feeling numb, feeling like I am somewhere else. It can't be true – and why are we still moving? Why are we so eager to see, if the Dark Lord is lying?
Why would he lie?
As we reach the doors in the Entrance Hall, several screams of horror reach my ears.
No…
And then – then I see him. Potter. His body, at the Dark Lord's feet, against the cold ground. Unmoving. Innocent. Fragile.
Harry Potter is dead.
I take in a shuddering breath, and the air is knives, stabbing my lungs, puncturing my chest, making me bleed inside. Then my throat constricts, trying to stop me from breathing, because what is the point of it, anymore? There's a hand against my shoulder…comforting me? Holding me back?
I stare blankly at the body on the ground, and I can't hear anything, I can't see anything else. Only him.
And then, whether it is a thousand years later, or merely ten minutes, something happens.
The hand shoves me hard, the people that were frozen in place, start to move, to run. Spells are being cast; jets of light zooming into every direction. And suddenly, the air is filled by screams, yells, shouts, and the ground trembles as the two Giants start to fight with a third one, and above, a mass of large birds – Thestrals, attacking the Giants, screeching violently. Several Centaurs charge towards the Dark Lord's groups, and everything is in disorder.
I'm being manhandled inside, and someone yells into my ear.
"Regulus! Pull yourself together!"
It is Lupin, his voice full of shock. "We're fighting!"
I stumble back into the Great Hall, and lose sight of Lupin, not seeing where he disappears, as I'm shoved forward. Duels are being fought everywhere I look, some of the Centaurs are chasing Death Eaters, and the house-elves – led by…by Kreacher, of all – are attacking the Dark Lord's followers, sticking knives into their opponents' feet.
I'm stunned, my vision swimming, my mind desperately trying to grasp a hold of the present. I feel like a mere shell of the man I was; unable to think anymore, unable to move, unable to fight. Because there's nothing inside me anymore.
" – NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"
I blink, and then, I see my cousin, duelling Molly Weasley.
Hundreds of people cease to fight, and instead watch the two duels taking place in the middle of the Great Hall; a snarling Bellatrix duelling Molly Weasley, the air crackling with magic around them; and the Dark Lord, a cold fury in his red eyes as he strikes and smites curses with all his power at McGonagall, Lupin and Shacklebolt.
And something – something flickers in the back of my head. I'm reminded of something, of a memory. I watch, petrified, as Molly's wand flicks and twirls, and when my cousin – when Bellatrix hisses out a snarl, and then…she smiles. Threateningly, menacingly, and I remember the last time I saw it, when I saw the vicious glint of triumph in her eyes.
It was when my brother fell through the Veil. I make a sudden move towards the pair, and sure enough, seconds later, Bellatrix hits Molly, with a curse that makes the other woman scream in anguish, and fly across the room, where she crashes against the wall, crumbling down, unmoving.
There's a loud cackle echoing clearly in the hall, while several people scream and sob, shocked, terrified.
"Now, little girlie…shall we continue?" Bellatrix says sweetly at the youngest Weasley.
Ginevra's trembling hand lifts up, her wand at the ready, her jaw tight, as tears stream down her cheeks.
"I think not, cousin." I say calmly at Bella, stepping into her view. "Go help your mother," I grunt at Ginevra, as Bellatrix screeches with laughter.
"Itty, bitty, Regulus!" She screams, her cackling laugh echoing loudly in the Great Hall. "I heard rumours about you, of course, but, seeing you now, I have to say, cousin, what I heard, didn't do you justice," she says with a sickly-sweet voice, tutting, before flashing a psychopathic smile. "Oh, cousin, you haven't aged a day!" She screams with delight.
I arch a brow at her.
"Came to crawl back under my protection, did you?" She hisses threateningly, a smirk on her lips.
"Or…" She growls, her features darkening, "Are you truly as senseless as your beloved, late brother, thinking you have any way of surviving this, that you could overcome me?!"
I watch her blankly, and she roars with anger, before sending a stream of curses at me. I block them swiftly, sending my own magic soaring towards her. Soon, the air is hot by the surges of light, as both of us swerve and avoid the other's curses, fighting silently, but with utmost focus, knowing what the other is capable of, knowing, that it only takes a second of carelessness to lose everything.
"Too bad you missed your brother's demise, little cousin," Bellatrix taunts, looking livid as none of her curses strike me, and lets out a small shriek as one of the jets of green from my wand nearly hits her on her arm.
Bellatrix bares her teeth. "A waste of space, he was!"
Rage swells within me, almost overwhelming. Rage that rises in my throat like vomit – the anger and hatred towards my cousin shaking me inwardly, filling the emptiness inside me, giving me strength.
She then laughs maniacally. "You should've seen the look in his eyes – the pleading – " She dodges a curse, " – the begging – " She avoids another Killing Curse, "The despairing –"
The pure white jet bursting from my wand hits her straight into her stomach. Bellatrix stares at me in disbelief, her expression close to outrage. Then, the very next second, her body shatters into fragments, as if she had been made of crystal.
The hall is silent, and there is nothing left of her, but a pile of sparkling dust on the cracked marble floor.
Suddenly, howls and cheers of triumph erupt from every corner of the hall, only to be overpowered by the Dark Lord's scream of shock, echoing louder than anything else.
Magic bursts from his wand, and his opponents are blasted away, flying across the room, before he turns his enraged, violent, gaze at me.
"You!" The Dark Lord screams, raising his wand, red eyes filled by terrifying hate.
The curse, powerful and invincible, soars across the air, aimed straight to my heart, and I stare at him, knowing that I'm unable to stop it, that I do not have the strength, not after putting my last ounce of power into destroying my cousin.
"PROTEGO!" Someone screams, and a powerful shield charm materialises in front of me, right before the curse reaches me, hitting the shield charm instead, blasting it into nonexistence.
" – HARRY!"
"HARRY'S ALIVE!"
Several people yell excitedly, and I can only gape at him. Potter. He's there, alive, and for a moment, I can breathe again, until I realise what is about to happen. The crowd falls silent, as Potter and the Dark Lord start to circle each other.
Potter shouts instructions to people around him, and then he and the Dark Lord taunt each other with words, while everyone in the hall holds their breaths, most of them – at least, it seems so – hoping, begging that it will be Potter who stands alive after this.
The Dark Lord jeers at Potter, enraged by him, by Potter's words, which are uttered in such calm manner, I didn't know could be done in front of the most terrifying wizard there is.
They circle one another for a long moment, and Potter tells him, that – that Severus was never his servant. That he and Dumbledore had agreed upon the late Headmaster's death, months before it had happened. That the moment the Dark Lord had gone after Lily Potter, Severus had been Dumbledore's man.
I stare at them, feeling shocked, feeling anguished for my old friend. Severus had been Dumbledore's spy, all along, had been working against the Dark Lord until his end.
The Dark Lord starts to laugh, mirthlessly, coldly, threateningly. "It doesn't matter anymore, does it! I have the wand – the most powerful wand there is, and whatever Snape had been working on with Dumbledore, they failed! I killed Snape!"
Potter looks at him calmly. "You killed him. But Snape was never the master of the wand."
The Dark Lord snarls.
"Draco Malfoy was. He took Dumbledore's wand against his will, never knowing what he had done – "
The Dark Lord screams in frustration. "Then I will seek out Draco, you fool – "
Potter huffs, almost like he is amused. "I already have Draco's wand, which I took from him, against his will."
The Dark Lord's eyes sharpen, and he hisses out a snarl of exasperation. Rage glinting in his red eyes, he lifts his wand, shrieking the incantation.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
There's a loud explosion, a powerful wave of force that shakes the castle, throwing many of the watching crowd over, tumbling to the floor.
I watch, on my knees, as the Elder Wand sails in the air, in a high arc, straight into Potter's outstretched palm.
And the next moment, the Dark Lord falls backwards, hitting the floor, his body broken, unmoving, dead.
Potter stares at him – what is left of his enemy – and then – everyone is screaming, whooping, laughing, running towards him, weeping in joy.
I stare at the scene, unable to believe that Potter is there, that Potter has survived, that Potter has done it.
He has destroyed the Dark Lord.
Hundreds of them; Aurors, members of the Order, students and their parents, teachers, villagers, house-elves, Centaurs…everyone is squeezing towards Potter, trying to touch him, pull him, hug him, thank him…
I watch, as most of them cry earnestly, with tears of joy, with tears of relief, and then, I'm seized from the side, hugged tightly by Lupin, and then, by Hermione, and then Ronald, and then – then Potter is there, has somehow managed to squeeze through the crowd, and he's there, staring at me with his impossibly green eyes. A look so piercing, I stop breathing.
With a huff, I pull him into a tight embrace, holding him close, breathing him in, closing my eyes, feeling his heartbeat against my chest, feeling his shuddering breath, and I thank all Merlin, Circe and Morgana, that I have him here, intact, and in my arms.
The sun has risen, and there is hope and relief in the new day. The tables in the Great Hall have been replaced to their original positions, and people are mingling between them, all of them wanting to talk to Potter, to be in his company. The saviour.
I watch, wearily, as the Boy Who Lived is handled, and moved from between the groups of people who are mourning, celebrating, all thanking him, all expressing their gratitude.
As more time passes, several owls reach us; Kingsley Shacklebolt has been named temporary Minister for Magic; the Imperiused everywhere in wizarding Britain have come back; the Death Eaters are being rounded up; the innocent ones in Azkaban will be released.
The Dark Lord's body has been moved out of sight, into a dark chamber in the far corner, and the bodies of those who were fighting against him, laid carefully into another.
I watch, with mild amusement, as Potter, sitting on the other side of the hall, glances around him, before slipping under his Invisibility Cloak, and disappearing from sight. Having a good guess what he is up to, I move my gaze to Hermione and Ronald, who sit by themselves, not far from where I am situated with the remaining members of the Order.
Both Hermione and Ronald tense abruptly, their eyes flicking across the room, and then, they leave their seats, making their way quickly towards the Entrance Hall.
"What do you reckon they're up to?" Lupin asks quietly, from my left.
I glance at him, and hum thoughtfully. "I trust we will find out, sooner or later," I tell him, and then glance at the werewolf's hands – Lupin is unconsciously twiddling the wedding band on his finger.
"Have you been in contact with Andromeda?" I ask, wondering if she already knows about her daughter.
I doubt there is a soul left in the wizarding Britain – or world, perhaps – who doesn't know that the battle is over.
Lupin nods jerkily, his jaw tightening. "Edward's okay. Andromeda…she'll be here. S-She – she wants to – to s-see h-her…" Lupin says, his voice shaking, his face distorting with pain.
I let out a small sigh, watching closely at the man, who tries to suppress his tears next to me. My brother's best friend. And somehow…my friend as well. "Let me know if there is anything, I can help you with."
Lupin frowns hard at the table, as tears stream down his cheeks. "Thanks, Regulus. I – I…thank you." He says thickly, before taking in a deep breath and wiping his face with his hands. "I should go, see if Andromeda has come."
With that, Lupin excuses himself and disappears into the crowd.
As I look after him, I notice a pair of eyes, studying me. A pair of grey eyes, not unlike my own, belonging to a woman with long, blonde hair, and sharp features.
Narcissa.
She watches me with an imploring expression, before her gaze flickers towards the Entrance Hall.
I murmur my excuses to the people at the table, and stand up, moving to meet the woman. The woman, who tried to kill me. The woman, who, I heard, saved Potter's life.
"Narcissa," I say quietly, as she steps into the Entrance Hall, where large pieces of the marble staircase are missing, the floor still littered with rubble, rubies and bloodstains.
I lean against the wall next to the door, and she doesn't see me at first, but she doesn't flinch. She turns slowly to face me, and watches me for a long moment.
"Regulus," she says, her voice calm and clear. She swallows hard, her gaze moving down, trained at my chest. "Can you…can you forgive me, for what I did?" She asks weakly, and then, looks up. There are tears in her eyes.
"Almost killing me?" I ask blankly, watching her with mild curiosity. Wondering if her words can be trusted.
She lets out a small gasp, and there's a tear trailing across her cheek. "Yes," she breathes. "I regret it. I wish I could take it back." There's sincerity in her eyes.
I watch her for a long moment, contemplating her words, her plea.
"I will decide it upon your future actions, cousin."
Narcissa nods slowly. "I wasn't expecting any less of you, dear cousin," she says quietly, and with a one, last look of intent, she turns gracefully, and returns to the Great Hall to her husband and son.
I watch her walk away, and then watch the others, still rejoicing at the victory, still mourning for those who were lost, and I decide to take a walk, to be by myself for a moment. I long for a sleep, but I know I have to wait for him. I know Potter will come to me, to explain everything to me, and I will wait, as long as it takes.
He does, some time later, find me, under the beech tree, gazing at the frozen lake.
"Hey," Potter says wearily, sitting down next to me on the warm and dry patch in the midst of snow-covered grass, courtesy of my warming charm.
I glance at him. "I used to study here," I tell him, and Potter nods, slowly.
"I know." He says gently. "I saw."
I look at him again. "Severus's memories?" I ask hesitantly, and then, Potter starts to explain it to me, telling me what he had seen in the memories Severus had given him.
He tells me about the memories from Severus's childhood, memories about Lily. Potter explains how he had seen Dumbledore asking Severus to perform the task, to kill the dying man, to spare him from others, who might not show him mercy. Potter tells me about the Horcruxes, about Dumbledore's plan, and why he had to go and face death. Before he finishes, he tells me about the memories of me.
And I listen closely, knowing that there is nothing to be done for them, for any of them, as they are all gone. Lily, Severus, Dumbledore.
I stare ahead, towards the lake, thinking about him, about Severus. How tragic his life was…how he had lived his whole life, loving someone, who did not love him back – not in the way he needed. How alone he had been, during the last years of his life…
After a long while, Potter takes my hand, squeezing it.
"You're free, you know?" He says eventually. "You don't have to hide anymore."
I contemplate his words. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps…I am free now. Free to walk outside of Grimmauld Place. And Potter is free too, free to walk outside, free to go back to his home, wherever it might be.
"What now?" He asks, his fingers moving against my knuckles.
I look at him, and I keep my voice steady as I speak. "Home."
He thinks for a moment, tilting his head, and then nods. "Yeah. I'd like that."
I lift my brows at him.
Potter shrugs. "I mean, I do own the place, after all…" He says simply, before cracking a smile.
With a sigh of amusement, I pull him closer, closing the distance between our lips, revelling in the fact that I'm able to do that, that I'm able to feel him warm and soft against me.
Our lips glide against each other for a while, unhurriedly, affectionately, intensely, with occasional smiles curving our lips. The kiss deepens, and Potter gently places his hand on my back, pulling me closer. We keep tasting each other on our tongues, which caress and entwine, reunited, languid, until both Potter and I pull back slightly, more or less breathless.
Potter leans his forehead against my shoulder, chuckling slightly. "You've no idea how long I wanted to do that…" He mutters, his fingers drawing pictures against my back.
"Since yesterday?" I ask quietly, spotting Hermione and Ronald, further along the grounds, evidently knowing that we are here, but discreetly looking away.
Potter snorts. "I can't believe all of this – everything – it happened so fast…"
I hum in agreement, my eyes still at Potter's friends, a thought coming into my head. "…Am I to assume one Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley are to join us at Grimmauld Place? Even going as far as calling it their home?" I ask lightly, sensing how Potter stiffens.
"I'm – well –" Potter pulls back, grimacing. "Yeah?" He says, squinting his eyes, lifting his brows up, giving me an innocent look.
I shake my head in a mixed amusement and exasperation.
"You do own the place," I say pointedly, teasing him, and then, my fingers find their way around his neck, and press him against me once more.
And finally, calmness sweeps over me.