Chapter 29
“You may have destroyed my last Horcrux!” screamed a crazed, high-pitched voice from behind Harry. “But I have killed Harry Potter and Severus Snape! What do you have to say to that, Dumbledore?”
Harry opened his eyes onto a blaze of light and a scene of carnage.
He was back in California, the afternoon heat beating down on him, the sun blazing. Around him stood a strange, frozen tableau: dozens of witches and wizards, both Death Eaters in masks and defenders in robes, either lying on the ground bleeding or standing stock-still, staring at him. Blood was dripping into the dust in red, gummy puddles. Ginny was back, Harry saw with a jolt of surprise, kneeling over a downed Dumbledore. Her eyes were huge on him, her face bloodless.
Harry realized he could see everything so well because he was currently dangling in the air. Voldemort had him gaffed on his wand like a fish, hovering in the air while he taunted Dumbledore.
Harry kicked out, legs flailing, but he could touch nothing but air. “Hey!” he yelled, voice hoarse. “Let go!”
Ginny’s face transformed, like the sun rising, like a star igniting. She raised both her arms. “Harry!” she cheered. “Harry! He’s alive!”
This roused a mighty cheer from all the surviving defenders: Sirius and Remus, standing over a cowering Peter Pettigrew; the Weasley twins, one missing an ear; Bill and Fleur, both with their wands out; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, holding a wild-eyed female Death Eater at bay; and all the others who had answered the call and come to battle Voldemort. Even in the house, Harry fancied he could hear Mike and Miguel, Tomas and Maya, all shouting and cheering.
Twisting around, Harry beheld Voldemort’s face. The Dark Lord looked almost comically surprised, red eyes wide and staring, his mouth open. “Potter…You…How…?” he gasped.
“You couldn’t kill me before,” cried Harry. “And you couldn’t this time either!”
Voldemort’s face curled into an enraged snarl. “We’ll see about—”
But at that moment Severus Snape, rising from the ground, struck like a snake. Kicking a cloud of dust into Voldemort’s face, he drove a fist into the Dark Lord’s solar plexus.
Voldemort crumpled forward, coughing, and his concentration on the spell holding Harry faltered.
Harry fell to the ground, staggering, nearly losing his balance. But there was no time—even now, Voldemort was getting over Severus’s surprise attack, raising his wand to cast another spell. “Crucio!” screamed Voldemort.
Harry watched the streak of red light blaze from Voldemort’s wand, hit Severus—and bounce off. Voldemort’s curse ricocheted, evaporating into nothing.
Voldemort looked more shocked and furious than ever. “What is happening here?” he hissed.
“Looks like you’re out of tricks, asshole!” Harry yelled, and launched himself at Voldemort.
“Harry!” shouted Severus, but Harry yanked the stunned Voldemort close and plunged his hand into his robes. His fingers closed on his own wand, hidden away in an interior pocket.
Warmth vibrated off the holly wand. Harry grinned, feeling complete again. He pointed his wand at Albus Dumbledore. “Accio Severus’s wand!”
A thin wooden streak arose from Dumbledore’s robes, zipping through the air straight to Harry’s hand. The jet-black wand was hard and cool in his fingers. Harry threw it immediately to Severus. Together, he and Severus turned on Voldemort, wands at the ready.
Voldemort held his own wand in defensive position, red eyes flicking from Harry to Severus and back again. "What is happening?” he demanded again. “I killed you both!”
“No, you didn’t,” snarled Harry. “You couldn’t kill me before and you can’t do it this time, either. My mother died to save me. That charm is still active. You can’t touch me, not really. All you did was destroy your own soul: the bit that was inside me. And then I sacrificed myself to save Severus.”
“No, you didn’t! You did not die—”
“Harry meant to, though.” Severus spoke now, voice low and savage with hatred. “He truly intended to sacrifice himself to save me, and that made all the difference. But you’ve never understood that, have you, my lord? For all your power, all your gifts, you’ve never truly understood the nature of magic.”
“You’ve still failed,” said Voldemort, eyes reduced to slits. “The prophecy said Harry Potter would give Albus Dumbledore the power to destroy me. And look there! Dumbledore lies dying in the dust.”
“The prophecy,” said Harry, not looking back, “didn’t refer to Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore isn’t your greatest enemy.” He grinned into Voldemort’s eyes. “It’s Severus Snape. You made Severus into your greatest enemy. And now I’ve given him the power to destroy you.”
Voldemort’s eyes widened. His mouth opened, to say something else, to recite an incantation—
Severus pointed his wand straight at Voldemort and shouted, “Avada Kedavra!”
The bolt of green light shot out, hitting Voldemort squarely in the chest. The Dark Lord jerked back, going rigid, his wand slipping from his fingers to fall to the dust, his eyes glazing over—and then his corpse hit the ground with a lackluster thump.
Absolute silence fell, broken only by the continual, untroubled murmur of the ocean. Panting, Severus lowered his wand. He was staring at his enemy’s body, face ravaged with hatred, grief and a deep, deep triumph and satisfaction. “Rest now, Lily,” he whispered, or perhaps Harry only thought he did.
A mighty roar rose, breaking the stillness. Around Harry and Severus, defenders were cheering, or else trying to stop surviving Death Eaters from escaping, Disapparating left and right in great cracks. Some Death Eaters escaped, but most were brought down, held at bay by multiple wizards and disarmed. Off to the side, Sirius and Remus both had their wands trained on the rat-like wizard, who backed away, wand clutched in a hand that gleamed a brilliant silver in the sunlight.
“Give up, Peter,” snarled Sirius. “It’s over.”
Peter gave a very odd little smile. “It’s like the Dark Lord said, Sirius,” he said quietly. “It’s not over until you’re dead.” He pointed his wand up at his own throat. “And I very much want it to be over.”
And then he chanted, “Avada Kedavra!”
“No!” Remus shouted, but Peter had already fallen to the ground, dead by his own hand.
“Harry!” Hands seized Harry’s shoulders, wrenching him around, and Harry found himself looking into Severus’s anxious face. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” And indeed he was: despite what he’d just seen, despite everything that had happened, Harry felt a lightness spread through him, a deep sense of relief. The battle was over. Voldemort was dead. They were alive, and they were free. “Are you okay, Severus?”
A brilliant, joyous smile, such as Harry had never seen, grew on Severus’s face. “Oh, I am,” he said. And then, to Harry’s astonishment, his guardian pulled him into a hug, arms tight and strong around him. “Thank you, Harry,” Severus whispered. “Thank you. For everything.”
Harry hugged him back. “Thank you, Severus. For everything.”
“Harry!”
Harry broke gently away, turning just in time for Ginny to throw herself into his arms. “Harry! You’re alive!”
“So are you!” Harry hugged her back. “How’d you get back here, Ginny?”
“Fawkes the phoenix brought me.” Ginny pointed back toward Dumbledore. A magnificent red-and-gold bird appeared to crying tears over his ruined hand. “He said I was the only one who could destroy the last Horcrux: the snake!”
“And I trust you did?” Severus said.
“Yep.” Ginny nodded. “Right before You-Know-Who held up Harry and said you were both…dead.” She stared at both Harry and Severus in wonder. “But you’re not dead. What happened?”
“That’s a really long—” Harry broke off as Ginny’s family—all of them miraculously still alive—converged on her, embracing her, exclaiming over her, scolding her.
Harry and Severus stepped back, out of the swarm of Weasleys, only to bump into Sirius and Remus.
They all stood and stared at one another. Sirius and Remus both looked odd: Remus shifty and apologetic, Sirius shifty and guilty. “Well, Severus,” said Remus at last. “You’ve saved us all.”
“So it would seem,” said Severus in even tones. “And you have both survived.”
“Looks like it,” said Sirius. He shifted around, looking everywhere but at Severus. “I—okay, look, Snape, I’m only going to say this once.” He straightened, finally looking at Severus. “Thank you. You’re a hero. You defeated Voldemort, and you’re the only one who could’ve done it. And I’m grateful. The whole wizarding world owes you.” He gave Harry a somewhat warmer look. “And you too, Harry.”
“It’s Severus who deserves thanks,” said Harry. “All I did was give him the power to destroy the Dark Lord. You were right when you said he was the only one who could’ve done it.”
“Yeah, well…” Sirius sighed. “I still don’t like you,” he said to Severus. “I don’t think you’ll ever like me, either. But I’m still grateful.”
“All right, fine,” said Severus, who seemed desperate to get away. “You’ve said what you need to say. Now, Harry and I need to find our friends…”
He and Harry dodged around Sirius and Remus, heading for the Ghost Rental. “Do you think Tomas and Maya and Los Dos are still inside?” Harry asked, looking around at the busy scene of aftermath. Mad-Eye was lying dead, he saw, stomach clenching, alongside with a fat older wizard.
“Probably,” said Severus. He and Harry both proceeded further toward the Ghost Rental, only to run into yet another phalanx of wizards: the British, Mexican and American defenders, all converging on the pair to shout questions, offer thanks and congratulations, or simply to touch the two wizards who had destroyed Voldemort at last.
Beyond them, Harry spotted the door to the Ghost Rental opening. Mike and Miguel both waved, Miguel holding Felicita in his arms, and gestured toward the car. Nearly limp with relief—they were still alive!—Harry nodded, and Los Dos led the stumbling, bloody Tomas and Maya out, sneaking around the crowd of wizards. The Muggles all piled into the car and it eased slowly away, unnoticed by the wizards.
Harry turned to meet Severus’s eyes. Severus gave a tiny shrug. Probably for the best.
There came a loud series of cracks, and everyone broke off, peering around. Dozens of wizards in purple robes were Apparating, spreading out, gaping at the scene: the aftermath of the battle, and Voldemort’s dead remains.
“Dumbledore!” One portly wizard in a green bowler hat came striding up. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Good afternoon, Fudge,” said Dumbledore calmly from the ground, Fawkes the phoenix still perched on his arm. “If your wizards will kindly help me up, I shall explain…”
“Oh, dear,” sighed Severus. “The British Ministry of Magic. It looks like I might be arrested, Harry.”
“They won’t arrest you.” Harry found himself gripping Severus’s shoulder. When had he started holding Severus’s shoulder instead of Severus holding his? “Not the hero who destroyed the Dark Lord and saved the wizarding world.”
“Oh, God.” Horrified realization dawned on Severus’s face. “Oh, no. I’m a celebrity now, aren’t I?”
“Looks like it,” grinned Harry.
“Oh, God, Merlin and William Shakespeare,” Severus groaned. “Just take me straight to Azkaban!”
“That’s not an option, I’m afraid, Severus.” Dumbledore, propped up by a Ministry wizard, had approached and was now grinning cheerfully. “Why don’t you and Harry step this way, and we shall explain all to Cornelius Fudge…”
And Harry and Severus exchanged sighs before stepping aside to start the tedious process of explanation, while defenders cleaned up the battle site, Ginny started the third rendition of her story to her family, Sirius and Remus stood with their arms around each other, Aurors surrounded those Death Eaters who’d surrendered (with an extra guard around Voldemort’s fallen body), and the sun shone brilliant and joyous on the pure blue waves.