Chapter 10
"Hello, Harry."
Harry slowly opened his eyes, greeted by the ethereal presence of two figures before him. Neither fully corporeal nor entirely spectral, they existed in a state between the living and the dead, reminiscent of the Riddle that had once emerged from the enchanted diary many years ago. Yet, they seemed more solid than mere apparitions, their forms holding a tangible presence within the dimly lit space.
One of the figures bore a striking resemblance to his godfather, tall and handsome with an aristocratic demeanor. This was Regulus, Sirius's younger brother, his features mirroring those of his sibling save for a straighter nose. While Sirius moved with an easy grace, he exuded a more reserved and serious air, his curious gaze fixed upon Harry as if analyzing him for traces of familiarity, perhaps seeking a likeness to Hermione. Eventually, a smile played upon Regulus's lips, a silent acknowledgment of whatever he had found.
Lily, her smile radiant and eyes brimming with affection, drew nearer to him, pushing back her long hair in a gesture of tender familiarity. Her green eyes seemed to drink in every detail of his being, as if fearing she might never have enough time to truly see him. Clad in the same attire she had worn at the time of her passing, she looked just as he had seen her in old photographs, her beauty undiminished by death.
"Look at you, my darling," she murmured softly, her voice a gentle caress. "When I first held you, you were but a babe in arms."
"He looks a lot like you, mon cheri," the youngest Black remarked, casting a glance between him and his mother. "You're as beautiful as ever, just as I remember."
Hermione felt her cheeks heat up, a blush spreading across her face like wildfire, as his smooth talk washed over her. She stole a glance at James beside her, his protective aura practically crackling with intensity. He looked like he was ready to throw down if Regulus didn't stop flirting with her. Meanwhile, Remus and Sirius were having a silent laugh behind their friends' backs. Their eyes twinkled with mischief as they exchanged knowing glances, clearly finding the whole situation highly entertaining.
"You don't look bad either, Reggie," she teased, her words laced with light-hearted affection. "Now I can see who inherited the family's good looks."
Sirius, however, took immediate offense, his laughter abruptly ceasing as he crossed his arms over his chest, his expression one of indignation. "Clearly, you're in dire need of glasses, Kitten," he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "We all know that I am the epitome of handsomeness.”
"Ah, but you see, dear brother, you're missing a few brain cells. I, on the other hand, am the complete package. Intelligence, a trait with which I am amply endowed, is much more important."
"True, Reg. But while you may have had the honor of being her first kiss, I proudly hold the title of being the first person she shared her bed with. Beat that, Reggie." With an exaggerated flourish, he mimicked dropping a microphone, his expression smug and self-satisfied.
The color drained from Hermione's face at the man’s revelation, her features contorting in shock and embarrassment. James moved quickly to her side, fanning her and offering support, ready to catch her if she should faint.
As the tension crackled in the air, Lily's voice cut through the moment, her tone gentle "Some things never change, do they?" she observed with a fond smile, her gaze fixed on her friends and back to Harry. "I'm so proud of you, Harry. You're almost there."
"Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice tinged with childlike curiosity.
"Dying? Not at all," she reassured him, her tone gentle yet unwavering. "Quicker and easier than falling asleep."
"I, on the other hand, had it long and painful.”
Annoyance flickered across Lily’s features as she shot a pointed glare at Regulus. "If you have nothing helpful to contribute, Black, I suggest you keep your bloody mouth shut," she admonished sharply, her tone leaving no room for argument.
“We’ll just hope you got your mother's intelligence and not your father's, or else we're all doomed.”
James's patience snapped like a taut wire, his anger bubbling to the surface as he strode forward, closing the distance until he was nose to nose with Sirius's brother. "That's it," he growled, his voice low and intense, crackling with pent-up fury. "The day I die, you and I are going to have a very serious conversation.”
Regulus's smirk widened, arrogance oozing from every pore as he leaned in slightly, unfazed. "I highly doubt Hermione will let you, after all," he remarked with a condescending tilt of his head, "she hates violence." His gaze shifted past James to Hermione, his tone dripping with smug superiority. "Isn't that right, mon cheri?"
"Maybe it'll be me who'll hit you. I seem to remember expressly telling you not to do anything stupid. Not to act like a stupid Gryffindor. And what do you do? You go and act like one, and you end up dead."
A chorus of offended protests erupted from the Gryffindors present, their loyalty to their house stung by her derogatory remark. But she dismissed their outrage with a roll of her eyes, her focus unwavering.
"Oh, please," she scoffed, her tone tinged with exasperation. "We're in the midst of a war, and you still care about houses? Grow up a little, won't you?"
The three Marauders, however, remained undeterred, their arms crossed defiantly as they exchanged self-satisfied smiles. "Never," they declared in unison, their Gryffindor pride shining through.
"I'm sorry I left you to deal with those three alone, Mione," Lily's voice carried a weight of regret as she addressed Hermione, her words heavy with remorse. "I'm sorry I couldn’t protect Harry, I—"
"You have nothing to apologize for, Lils. I’m sorry you died, that was never supposed to happen.”
"We're best friends, that's what we're supposed to do, right? I'm just glad my death wasn't in vain. Nor was Regulus's. We've been watching you all these years, and we're so proud of everything you've accomplished. Especially you two."
A sudden chill permeated the air, causing a shiver to run down Harry's spine as he looked upon his assembled family. "You'll stay with me?" he asked, his gaze sweeping over each familiar face, seeking reassurance in their presence.
“Until the very end,” James declared. His voice echoed through the forest, unwavering despite the solemnity of the moment.
"HARRY POTTER IS DEAD!"
The scream that followed was the most terrible sound Harry had ever heard, not because of its sheer volume, but because it came from a source he had never expected or dreamed capable of such despair. Professor McGonagall's anguished cry tore through the air, filling the space with a palpable sense of grief. Nearby, the chilling laughter of Bellatrix Lestrange mingled with McGonagall's despair, a twisted symphony of triumph and agony.
"No!"
"No!"
“Harry! HARRY!”
Ron's, Hermione's, and Ginny's voices pierced the chaos, their cries echoing with a raw intensity that cut through the tumultuous noise. Harry squinted against the blinding light for a fleeting moment, catching a glimpse of the open doorway filled with familiar faces. His father comforting his mother, his godfather and uncle Moony watching with a mixture of fury and sorrow. He longed to call out to them, to reassure them, but a heavy weight pressed upon his chest, rendering him powerless to do anything but lie silent. With a resigned breath, he closed his eyes once more.
“SILENCE! It's over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!”
“He beat you!” Ron's defiant cry shattered the charm, igniting a frenzy of shouts and screams from the defenders of Hogwarts. But their defiance was short-lived, quashed by a second, more powerful bang that silenced them once more. Harry strained to catch the faint sounds of a scuffle and a shout, followed by another bang, a flash of light, and a pained grunt. Opening his eyes just slightly, he glimpsed the chaos unfolding before him.
“And who is this? Who have you volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?”
Bellatrix's laughter rang out with delight. “It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?”
“Ah, yes, I remember.” Voldemort murmured, his gaze descending upon Neville, who stood resolute, unarmed and exposed, in the perilous space between the survivors and the Death Eaters. “But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?” His question hung in the air, his red eyes boring into the boy, who clenched his fists in defiance despite his empty hands.
“So what if I am?”
“You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom.”
“I'll join you when hell freezes over,” Neville retorted, his words dripping with contempt as he spat at Voldemort's feet. “Dumbledore’s Army!” he declared, his voice resonating with conviction, eliciting an echoing cheer from the defiant crowd, whom Voldemort’s Silencing Charms struggled to subdue.
“Very well,” Voldemort responded smoothly, his tone laced with a sinister undercurrent that sent shivers down Harry's spine. “Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me.”
A collective gasp rippled through the onlookers as Neville suddenly found himself engulfed in flames, his form frozen in place, unable to flee the searing inferno. Harry felt a surge of desperation welling within him, compelling him to action.
And then, in a moment of chaotic upheaval, the tranquility of the dawn was shattered by the distant uproar of hundreds of approaching figures, their war cries echoing across the landscape as they surged toward the castle.
Then came the thundering of hooves and the ominous twang of bows, as arrows suddenly rained down upon the Death Eaters, catching them off guard and eliciting shouts of surprise. Harry seized the opportunity, swiftly retrieving the Invisibility Cloak from within his robes and draping it over himself before springing to his feet, his movements synchronized with Neville's own.
In a seamless display of determination, Neville broke free from the Body-Bind Curse, causing the flaming hat to tumble from his head as he reached within its depths and withdrew something silver, its handle adorned with glittering rubies. With a single decisive stroke, he severed the great snake's head, sending it spinning high into the air, a gleaming spectacle illuminated by the flood of light pouring from the entrance hall. Voldemort's mouth twisted in a silent scream of fury as the snake's lifeless body thudded to the ground at his feet.
Beneath the protective veil of the Invisibility Cloak, Harry cast a Shield Charm between Neville and Voldemort before the Dark Lord could raise his wand. Amidst the chaos of screams, roars, and thunderous stomps of battling giants, the giant’s voice rose above the tumult, his urgent cries piercing through the din.
“HARRY!” Hagrid's booming shout reverberated through the hall. “HARRY—WHERE’S HARRY?”
Hidden from view, Harry was propelled forward into the entrance hall, his senses heightened as he scanned the room for Voldemort. Across the room, he spotted the Dark Lord, his wand ablaze as he retreated into the Great Hall, barking commands to his followers while unleashing curses in every direction.
Amidst the chaos, the house-elves of Hogwarts surged into the entrance hall, their voices raised in a cacophony of screams and battle cries. Leading the charge, the locket of Regulus Black bouncing on his chest, was Kreacher, his bullfrog voice cutting through the clamor.
“Fight! Fight! Fight for my Master, defend the house-elves! Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!”
"I killed you," Voldemort hissed, his voice dripping with disbelief and rage as he beheld the sight of James and Hermione, their wands poised for battle. "I killed you both, how is it possible?"
“You killed my best friend and you're going to pay for it,” Hermione snapped, her voice edged with venom as she raised her wand, her determination palpable. “AVADA KEDAVRA!”
Voldemort effortlessly dodged the curse, his movements fluid as he countered with another spell aimed in their direction. "You've become much more aggressive since we last met...more powerful too, Hermione," he remarked, his tone smooth as silk even as a dazzling array of colors clashed with each other in the air.
“Take my wife's name out of your mouth,” James growled, his eyes blazing with fury as he unleashed a barrage of spells, each one faster and more precise than the last. "You're still the same coward as always, Tom, hiding behind those pompous, degenerate Death Eaters. You disgust me."
Voldemort's crimson eyes narrowed into slits, his expression hardening as he launched a furious assault against the pair. But James remained undeterred, his cocky smile never faltering as he continued to provoke his adversary.
“It must hurt, right? Being an orphan that no one wanted to play with, being the weird kid who talked to snakes,” he taunted, his laughter cruel and cutting. “And then when you got to Hogwarts, what happened? You never fit in, did you? You were a half-blood in a house full of rich purebloods who looked down on you. They didn't consider you a Slytherin, did they?”
The Gryffindor's words cut deep, each barb hitting its mark as Voldemort's rage boiled to the surface. "SHUT UP!" he roared, his wand slashing through the air as he unleashed increasingly as he sought to silence his biting words. "SHUT UP!"
“You're just a pawn on a chessboard, just like all of us,” James continued, his voice ringing out amidst the chaos of battle. He alternated between casting curses and erecting protective shields around his wife, never missing a beat. “You were always a pawn to the purebloods. A shiny new toy they used because it suited them, but at the end of the day, they only look out for themselves. What do you think will happen, Tom? When they tire of your rhetoric about blood purity? When you're no longer useful to them? I'll tell you. They'll cast you aside. They'll discard you for another shiny, newer toy.”
"I AM GOING TO KILL YOU! CRUCIO! AVADA KEDRAVA!"
Hermione lunged at her husband, knocking them both to the ground "If he doesn't kill you, I'll will, darling," she whispered through gritted teeth, her tone deceptively sweet as she glared at him. "What did you think you were going to achieve by provoking him?"
James couldn't help but laugh, his expression a mix of amusement and adrenaline-fueled exhilaration as he pointed to a point behind them. "That," he replied simply, his gaze locked on the unfolding battle between Harry and Voldemort.
Hermione followed his gesture, her eyes widening in astonishment as she watched Harry engage in combat with the Dark Lord. "He’s alive!" she whispered, scrambling to her feet with newfound determination.
"Of course he is," he chuckled, pulling her into a tight embrace. "He's our son. Brave and stubborn like his mother."
"You're a stupid idiot," she retorted, punctuating her words with a playful punch to his chest, her eyes rolling in exasperation. "You have to stop provoking people or you'll end up dead."
James raised an eyebrow in amusement, his attention momentarily diverted as he cursed at a Death Eater attempting to attack them. "Again?"
"Are you seriously trying to be funny now?"
"I've always been but I'm glad you're recognizing it now, Angel.”
"I really don't understand how you and I ended up getting married. Seriously—" Hermione muttered under her breath, her words cut off by James's sudden gesture as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her lips.
"Oi, you two! We're in the middle of a war. You'll have time for that later," Sirius's voice cut through the moment, reminding them of the urgency of the situation. Reluctantly, they separated, though James’ arm remained draped casually around her waist.
"Don't pretend you haven't had a quickie with Moony," James mocked, his playful jab accompanied by a pointed gesture toward the hickey adorning Sirius's neck and the haphazardly buttoned shirt he wore.
"Touche, Potter. Touche," his best friend conceded with mock solemnity, a smug grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Hermione and Remus exchanged a silent glance, a shared understanding passing between them, before simultaneously delivering playful smacks to their husbands' heads..
"Ouch!” they yelped in unison, rubbing their offended skulls.
"My son is fighting the most powerful wizard in history, we're in the middle of a war, and you're fighting like two little boys."
"We were definitely high when we got married," Remus quipped with false regret, nodding in agreement with Hermione's sentiment.
James and Sirius exchanged a glance before adopting puppy dog expressions, complete with quivering chins and wide, pleading eyes. "But you love us, right?" they chorused in unison, their voices laced with faux innocence as they cast protective spells around them.
Remus and Hermione shared a knowing look, silently communicating as they continued to fend off their attackers.
"I already told you it was a bad idea to get infatuated with a library.”
"At least you have it and have enjoyed it. I disn't even have the chance.”
"You're the one who said they looked cute, not me," he countered, his focus shifting back to the ongoing battle as he continued to cast protective charms.
"They were your best friends, you could have warned me sooner," she retorted, her attention divided between casting spells and ensuring her husband’s safety. "James, for the love of God, be a little more careful!"
"Whatever you say, Angel," he quipped with a cheeky smile, offering a mock salute as he continued to engage in battle alongside Sirius.
"Pads and I warned you when you started dating, and when Prongs proposed to you, and when you were going to the altar, and when—" Remus began listing, but Hermione cut him off with a wave of her hand.
"I know, I know. I brought this on myself," she admitted with a roll of her eyes, her gaze softening as she watched her husband and his best friend fight. "Now I'm stuck with that idiot over there who has zero concern for his safety, just like his son."
"But you wouldn't have it any other way, would you?" Remus observed, a small smile playing at his lips as he glanced fondly at Sirius, who returned the gesture with a wink.
"God knows I wouldn't," Hermione replied with a fond smile, her eyes meeting James's with a mix of exasperation and affection as he flashed her a mischievous grin. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
“I don't want it.”
"What?" Ron exclaimed loudly, his disbelief evident. “Are you mental, Harry—”
“I know it's powerful. But I was happier with mine. So…” Harry's voice trailed off as he reached into the pouch hanging around his neck, fingers deftly retrieving the two halves of holly still connected by the finest thread of phoenix feather. Hermione had told him they couldn't be repaired, that the damage was too severe. But Harry refused to accept defeat. Placing the broken wand upon the headmaster's desk, he touched it with the very tip of the Elder Wand and whispered, “Reparo.”
A surge of anticipation coursed through him as he watched intently. And then, as if in response to his unspoken desire, red sparks flew from the end of his wand, a silent confirmation of success. Carefully, he picked up the repaired holly and phoenix wand, a sudden warmth enveloping his fingers as though wand and hand were rejoicing at their reunion.
“I’m putting the Elder Wand back where it came from.It can stay there. If I die a natural death like Ignotus, its power will be broken, won't it? The previous master will never have been defeated. That’ll be the end of it.”
Dumbledore nodded in agreement, a smile of satisfaction gracing his features as he and Harry shared a moment of understanding.
“Are you sure?” his best friend’s voice carried a faint trace of longing as he glanced at the Elder Wand, uncertainty etched on his features.
“I think Harry's right,” Hermione interjected quietly, her voice carrying a note of support.
“That wand's more trouble than it's worth,” Harry affirmed, turning away from the painted portraits and allowing his thoughts to drift to the comfort of his four-poster bed in Gryffindor Tower. He pondered the possibility of Kreacher bringing him a sandwich there, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “And quite honestly,” he continued, his gaze distant as he reflected on the trials and tribulations he had faced, “I’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.”
“I think Harry's right,” Hermione said quietly, her tone reflective.
“That wand's more trouble than it's worth,” Harry asserted, turning away from the painted portraits, his thoughts drifting to the comfort of his four-poster bed in Gryffindor Tower. He wondered if Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there. “And quite honestly,” he continued, his voice tinged with weariness, “I’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.”