The last enemy
Harry rises up out of the Pensive with a gasp and crumples to the floor. The familiar carpet under his hands is a small comfort as he gets his breathing under control, fragments of Severus’s memories whirling around inside his own mind… He’s run out of tears and he’s run out of feelings; he is numb and hollow, as if he’d been scraped out and emptied, just like he’d wished for on his way up to the Headmaster’s Office…
He pushes himself up on shaky arms and sits in the middle of the circular office for a moment as he lets the truth sink in… finally the truth… he stares back at the curious and wary faces of the portraits around him, and he finally understands. All those evenings he spent inside this office with Dumbledore last year, he’d thought he was learning the secrets of victory over Voldemort when in reality, he was never supposed to survive this war.
For a moment, he wonders why a portrait of Severus hasn’t magically appeared next to the portrait of Dumbledore, but he is very grateful at the same time that there hasn’t… He doesn’t think he could stand seeing such indisputable proof. Not now.
He knows what he needs to do, and for some reason, as Severus’s dark, empty eyes flashes before him, he doesn’t feel frightened.
He was meant to dispose of Voldemort’s remaining links to life along the way, so that when the time comes and Voldemort raises his wand to end Harry’s life, and Harry will not do anything to stop him at all, but will let him finish what he started that night in Godric’s Hollow almost eighteen years ago… neighter will live, because neither can survive… with all the Horcruxes destroyed, it will mean the end of Voldemort too.
Harry stands up and sways for a moment, then starts walking out of the office again. He moves as if in a dream, not really feeling the floor under his feet or the blood inside his own veins. He is numb, hollow, a ghost already… and soon, very soon, he will be dead —
His breathing seems to coil inside his lungs; it becomes an effort to push the air out of his throat and an even bigger effort to suck it back in.
I will be dead.
He forces one foot in front of the other.
I will be with Severus.
Whatever had constricted his airways loosens, and a surge of fresh air fills him up and he feels almost dizzy with it.
Yes. I’ll be with Severus. And my parents. And Sirius. It won’t be the end, not really…
A nagging doubt flares up in his mind, but he pushes it aside. He isn’t sure he actually believes in an after-life, but he will focus on this possibility, this one comfort — or he might not be able to make it all the way to the Forest…
He has failed though: he never killed the snake — one Horcrux remains to bind Voldemort to the earth, even after Harry has been killed — But that will only make it easier for someone else to finish the job, he thinks and wonders briefly who it will be, if it will be Ron or Hermione… That’s why Dumbledore had wanted him to confide in his two friends, so that if Harry fulfilled his true destiny a little early, they might carry on… without me…
Ron and Hermione feels so far away right now, as if he’s already parted with them a long time ago… There will be no goodbyes and no explanations, he’s determined of that. For the first time since he met his friends he has reached an adventure, a journey, that he must make without them.
The corridors are still deserted. But Harry wishes he had his Invisibility Cloak all the same. He feels naked and vulnerable without it.
He finally reaches the marble staircase leading to the Entrance Hall and descends it in a daze. He slips aside and hides in the shadows next to the doors as two figures emerges from the darkness outside, carrying a body between them. With a dull blow to the stomach, Harry realises that the lifeless body carried by the two others is Colin Creevey. Despite being under-age, he must have sneaked back to fight.
”You know what? I can manage him on my own, Neville”, Oliver Wood says and heaves Colin’s tiny body over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift and carries him into the Great Hall on his own.
Neville leans back against the doorframe for a moment and wipes the sweat from his brow. He looks old and harrowed, Harry thinks. After a moment, he takes a deep breath and then disappears back outside in search of more bodies.
Harry waits a few seconds, then follows him. It’s nearly four in the morning, and the grounds are deathly still as if holding their breath to see if Harry will do what needs to be done… Harry sees Neville bent over another body and in a moment of wild impulse, Harry walks up to him.
”Neville—”
”Blimey, Harry, you nearly gave me heart failure! Hang on, where are you going, alone?”
”It’s all part of the plan”, Harry assures him with a confidence he barely feels. ”There’s something I’ve got to do. Listen — Neville —”
”Harry”, Neville says, looking scared suddenly. ”You’re not — you’re not thinking of handing yourself over —?”
”Of course not”, he lies easily. ”This is something else. But I might be out of sight for a while. You know Voldemort’s snake, Neville? He’s got a huge snake, he calls it Nagini?”
”Y-Yeah?”
”It’s got to be killed. Ron and Hermione know that, but just in case they —”
The awfulness of the possibility of Ron or Hermione being unable to go on grips Harry so suddenly that he almost chokes, but he pulls himself together again — this is crucial, and he must be like Dumbledore now, he must keep a cool head and make sure there are back-ups, others to carry on… Dumbledore had gone to his death knowing that three more people knew of the Horcruxes, and now Neville will take Harry’s place, there will still be three in on the secret…
”Just in case they’re — busy — and you get the chance, you have to, it’s very important —”
”Kill the snake?”
”Kill the snake”, Harry repeats with a serious nod.
”All right, Harry… You’re okay though, yeah?”
”I’m fine. Thanks, Neville —”
Harry starts to walk away again, but Neville seizes him by the wrist, ”We’re all going to keep fighting, Harry. You know that, don’t you?”
”Yeah, I —”
The suffocating sensation comes back and chokes the end of his sentence. Neville doesn’t seem to find it strange though. He moves a little closer to Harry and claps him on the shoulder. Then turns back to the body he’d been about to lift. Harry doesn’t look down to see who it is. He has to go to the Forest right now, while there still is some resolve inside him.
He hears a whimpering sniffle somewhere in the darkness, ”I want to go home, I don’t want to fight anymore!”
”I know”, another voice says. ”It’s going to be all right, come on…”
Ripples of cold passes over Harry’s skin and he shivers. For a brief moment a scream starts thrashing around inside him like a wild animal struggling against the confines of a cage, desperate to break free from him, but he clamps his mouth shut and keeps it in… He finds himself not only sympathising with the anonymous girl, but agreeing with her whole-heartedly; he too wants to go home — but then reality shakes him and he realises that he is home…
Hogwarts is the only home he has ever known, except for Spinner’s End for half a summer; he and Voldemort and Severus, the abandoned boys, had all found home here at Hogwarts… it is only fitting, he thinks numbly, that we should all meet our ends here as well…
He keeps walking, until he reaches the edge of the Forest. A swarm of Dementors are gliding amongst the trees, he can feel their chill from where he is standing, and he hesitates… Despite finally having proof of Severus’s feelings for him, he knows he cannot summon enough joy to produce a Patronus now. Because it’s too late. Severus is gone.
Part of Harry longs for the moment of death, for it all to be over… the pain, everything…
But despite that, to get from here to that moment, even if it’s only a matter of minutes… just a small trek through the trees… it feels like a vast desert, an eternity of heartache and indescribable pain…
It’s not so easy, after all, to die.
Every breath that trickles into his lungs seem icy cold and at the same time precious, like he ought to savour each one, and when he tries to his lungs scream and ache. He releases his breath once more, feeling light-headed…
It’s over, the Snitch has been caught, it is time to touch ground —
The snitch, he thinks suddenly. His numb fingers fumble with the pouch around his neck and he clumsily opens it, digging around inside until he finds it.
I open at the close.
Staring down at the glint of gold in his hands, he feels his heart hammering faster and faster. This is the close. This is the moment.
He presses the golden metal to his lips and whispers, ”I am about to die…”
The metal shell breaks open. Harry points Draco’s wand at it and whispers ”Lumos”
Inside the two halves of the Snitch lies the small black stone with its jagged crack running down the centre of it. The Resurrection Stone has cracked right down the line representing the Elder Wand, but the triangle and circle representing the Cloak and the stone itself can still be discerned on either side.
And with a rush of understanding, Harry knows why Dumbledore left him the Stone and why he’d made sure Harry wouldn’t be able to access it until this very moment; it won’t matter about bringing them back from death now, because he is about to join them. He isn’t really fetching them, they are fetching him…
Closing his eyes, he turns the stone over in his hand, three times. He knows it’s worked even before opening his eyes, because he can hear the faint rustle of movement all around him.
They are neither ghosts or truly flesh, Harry sees. They resembles the memory of Riddle that had escaped from the diary, less substantial than living bodies but much more than ghosts. They move closer to him, all of them smiling lovingly… Harry lets his gaze travel from each of them, his heart speeding up further with every face… his father… Sirius… his mother… then nothing —
Relief and worry crash inside him, but he can’t let it distract him, not now… He’ll see Severus soon enough, anyway…
He looks back to his mother and her smile widens further, ”You have been so brave.”
He feels a lump in his throat as he looks at her, the images from Severus’s memories flash before him, but again he forces himself to focus on the present. He looks at his father instead. James is the same height as Harry and wearing the same clothes he’d worn when he was killed. His hair is untidy, like Harry’s. His glasses a little lopsided.
”You are nearly there, son”, he says softly. ”Very close. We are… so proud of you.”
”Does it hurt?” Harry whispers.
”Dying?” Sirius says bracingly, beaming at him. ”Not at all. Quicker and easier than fallling asleep.”
A chilly breeze travels from the heart of the Forest and washes over Harry. He doesn’t want to go on, but he knows he must. They won’t tell him, he knows that. It needs to be his own decision.
”Will you be able to stay with me?” he asks uncertainly, hopefully.
”Until the very end”, James says.
”And they won’t be able to see you?”
”We are a part of you”, Sirius says. ”Invisible to anyone else.”
Harry turns to look at his mother again, ”Stay close to me…”
Harry takes one final deep breath and starts walking into the Forest. The Dementors chill doesn’t seem to reach him anymore, somehow his invisible companions act as Patronuses, and together they make their way through the trees that grow more and more close together. Harry feels his robes snag on the undergrowth but keeps walking, sure that if he were to pause again he will never be able to bring himself to continue once more… He walks deeper and deeper into the Forest, not knowing where Voldemort is waiting for him but sure he’ll find him.
Finally, Harry can see a light up ahead. In the small clearing that had once been the dwelling of Aragog, a fire has been lit and around it stands Voldemort and his Death Eaters, all waiting tensely, their ghostlike faces illuminated by the dancing glow of the fire. Harry notices Greyback amongst them, chewing his long nails, and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, both looking defeated and terrified, all of their eyes are fixed on Voldemort, the only figure of the group who is standing absolutely stock still.
He stands with his head bowed, and his white hands folded around the Elder Wand in front of him, as if in prayer… or like a child, counting in a game of hide-and-seek, Harry thinks with a sense of absurd humour.
Like a halo behind Voldemort’s head, still swirling and coiling in her glittering, charmed cage, is the snake Nagini.
Suddenly Voldemort lifts his head — and there seems to be a collective intake of breath all around him — his red eyes seem to flare, and slowly he raises the Elder Wand.
”My Lord —” Bellatrix says timidly from her place right next to him, but Voldemort raises his hand to silence her.
She goes silent immediately, ducking her head in submission. She looks dishevelled but otherwise unharmed, Harry sees. I wonder how many have died at her hands tonight…
”I thought he would come”, Voldemort says in his high, clear voice. ”I expected him to come.”
Nobody speaks. Every single Death Eater, including Bellatrix, looks just as scared as Harry feels if not more so. Harry squeezes the wand tighter in his hand, then sticks it in a pocket inside his robes so that he won’t be tempted to use it.
”I was, it seems… mistaken”, says Voldemort coldly.
”You weren’t”, Harry says as loudly as his voice will carry, glad to hear it doesn’t tremble or break.
He lets the Resurrection Stone slip from his numb fingers and out of the corner of his eye he’s aware of his his parents and Sirius vanishing, but he doesn’t care anymore… He only cares about Voldemort, and getting this over with as swiftly and painfree as possible and then… then…
Harry pushes the thought of Severus from his mind once more, and focuses on the red eyes of Voldemort.
There are gasps and screams and even laughter from all sides, but Harry refuses to tear his eyes away from Voldemort. In his mind, there is only the two of them now…
”HARRY! NO!” Hagrid shouts from his right, and Harry glances over instinctively: the half-giant is bound and trussed to a tree that shakes as he starts to struggle. ”NO! NO! HARRY, WHAT’RE YOU—”
With a sudden flick of a wand, whose Harry didn’t have a chance to see, Hagrid is silenced… Harry remembers Severus doing the exact same thing to Uncle Vernon and finds himself smiling weakly.
Not long now, he thinks. Come on, Riddle, let’s get this show on the road…
Voldemort tilts his head a little to the side, studying Harry with a mirthless smile, as tough he’d heard his thoughts.
”Harry Potter”, he says softly. ”The boy who lived…”
None of the Death Eaters move or speak, they hardly breathe; they are all waiting, everything is waiting… Hagrid is struggling still, Harry sees in his peripheral, and Bellatrix breast is heaving with quick, eager panting breaths, and as Voldemort finally, finally, raises the Elder Wand and points it at Harry’s heart, Severus dark eyes flash through his mind… and Harry allows himself to remember the feel of the man’s thin, soft lips against his —
Voldemort opens his mouth and then there is a flash of green light —
*
Harry slowly becomes aware of his face pressed to the ground, as he listens to the silence. He is alone, there are nobody watching him, no-one else is here — he’s not even sure if he’s here himself — but after several moments, or it could have been hours, or maybe no time at all, it occurs to him that he must exist still, must be more than just a disembodied thought, because he is definitely lying on some sort of surface… so he clearly has a sense of touch still.
And the surface that he touches from head to toe must exist as well. So he is definitely in a place.
The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death, he thinks.
He is aware suddenly that he is naked, but since there is no-one else around, this concerns him very little.
Slowly, he lifts his head and blinks his eyes open. He is lying in a bright mist through which vague shapes can be seen, like his surroundings are still taking form. The floor underneath him seems to be white as well, neither warm nor cold, it just is.
He sits up and feels his body gingerly: he seems completely unscathed. He touches his face as well, his glasses are gone and so is his scar.
A noise reaches him through the still-forming ghostly surroundings and he looks around. It’s a pitiful noise, and at the same time indecent somehow… For the first time Harry wishes he had some clothes on, and as soon as the thought has entered his head, a set of robes materialises next to him. He pulls them on, then stands up carefully and walks in the direction of the noise.
Looking around, a doomed glass roof takes shape over his head and he wonders if maybe he’s in a palace of some sort.
The noise breaks through his musings again and he searches for the source of it, cringing slightly when he finally sees it: a small, naked child lies curled on the ground, its skin raw and rough, almost flayed-looking, underneath a bench where its been left, unwanted, stuffed out of sight, struggling for breath…
It’s a pitiful, helpless thing… and yet, small and fragile and mortally wounded though it appears to be, Harry feels a surge of fear as he gazes at it. He approaches it slowly, cautiously, ready to jump back at any moment, but nothing happens. The little creature continues to wail and wheeze.
Harry looks at it, feeling horrible for not reaching out to hold it, to comfort it somehow, but he can’t bring himself to. The very thought of touching it repulses him, and he feels awful.
”You cannot help”, someone says behind him and he spins around: Albus Dumbledore comes striding towards him wearing midnight-blue robes and beaming. ”Harry… my dear boy…”
Harry feels his heart flutter, at once relieved to see his mentor again and disappointed.
”Ah”, Dumbledore says and smiles kindly at him. ”You were expecting someone else…”
”No”, Harry lies.
”Harry”, Dumbledore says softly. ”Come, let us talk…”
Harry follows the other man to another bench that has appeared out of nowhere and sits down next to him, eyeing him closely, ”You’re dead.”
”Ah, yes”, Dumbledore agrees readily and nods.
”So does that mean… I’m dead, as well?”
”Well”, Dumbledore says and smiles even wider, his eyes twinkling. ”That’s the question, isn’t it… But on the whole, I’d say not.”
”Not?” Harry repeats curiously.
”Not”, Dumbledore says and nods once more.
”But… I should have died, I didn’t even defend myself! I meant to let him kill me!”
”And that”, Dumbledore says. ”Will, I think, have made all the difference.”
Harry watches the old man twiddle his thumbs and smile more broadly, feeling a sense of confusion mixed with annoyance… Is the man incapable of giving straight answers? But no, Harry thinks. He gave Severus straight answers, eventually, so no… it’s just me, he never tells me the full truth…
At Harry’s frown, Dumbledore’s happiness finally seems to fade slightly.
”Explain”, Harry says curtly.
”You already know the answer —”
”Explain!” Harry repeats angrily.
”All right, my dear boy…” Dumbledore murmurs. ”The part of Voldemort’s soul that had latched onto yours — that was the part of you that got killed tonight… He destroyed it. Your soul is whole and completely your own, Harry…”
The wheezing, wailing noise seems to grow in strength and Harry glances over at the small, maimed creature with a sense of foreboding.
”What is that thing?”
”Something that is beyond either of our help”, Dumbledore says seriously.
”Okay — but if Voldemort used the Killing Curse, and nobody died for me this time, how can I still be alive?”
”You know the answer to this as well, Harry. Think back. Think what he did in his ignorance and greed…”
”He took my blood”, Harry says finally.
”Precisely!” Dumbledore says. ”He took your blood and rebuilt his living body with it! Your blood runs in his veins, Harry, so Lily’s protection lives on in both of you! He has tethered you to life as long as he lives!”
”Wait…” Harry says, feeling a headache start to flare up. ”I live — while he lives? But I thought it was the other way round! That we both had to die? Or is it the same thing?”
”You were the seventh Horcrux, Harry. The one he never meant to make… and he never knew! That which Voldemort does not value, he never bothers to comprehend. So he knows nothing of house-elves or children’s tales, of love, and loyalty, and innocense… Voldemort knows and understands nothing, Harry, nothing… He took your blood believing it would strengthen him, but what he took into his body was a tiny part of the enchantment that your mother laid upon you when she died for you. His very body keeps her sacrifice alive, and while that enchantment survives, so do you…”
”And you knew this? You knew all along?”
”I guessed”, Dumbledore says modestly, his eyes twinkling again.
”He killed me with your wand”, Harry says suddenly, remembering the Elder Wand gripped loosely in Voldemort’s hand.
”He failed to kill you with my wand”, Dumbledore corrects gently. ”I think we have established that you are not, in fact, dead… although I don’t mean to minimise your suffering, which I am sure, has been great.”
”I feel fine now, though”, Harry says, looking down at his unblemished hands. ”Where are we exactly, anyway?”
”I was going to ask you the same thing”, Dumbledore says conversely. ”Where would you say we are?”
Until Dumbledore asked, Harry had had no idea but now, however, he realises that he does know.
”It looks like King’s Cross, except a lot cleaner, and empty, and there are no trains as far as I can see…”
”King’s Cross station!” Dumbledore exclaims and chuckles. ”Good gracious, really…”
”Well, where do you think we are then?” Harry fires back a little defensively.
”My dear boy, I have no idea… This is, as they say, your party.”
Harry doesn’t understand what that’s supposed to mean; Dumbledore is being infuriating again, and Harry glares at him. Then, he remembers something else that he’d wanted to ask him about: the Deathly Hallows — but even as he thinks this, Harry realises that he doesn’t actually care anymore. He was so ready for it all to be over, and now he feels too tired to care about anything else again…
”Why did you make it so difficult?” he asks off-handedly, not really expecting a straight answer.
But as always, Dumbledore surprises him and gives him one for once, ”I’m afraid I was counting on Miss Granger to slow you down a bit, Harry… I was worried that your hot head might dominate your good heart, and that if you learned of the Hallows too soon you might have seized them, as I did, at the wrong time and for the wrong reasons… You are now the true master of death, Harry, because the true master of death does not seek to run away from Death, but accepts that he must die and understands also that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying.”
”If you planned your death with Se- Snape —”
”Professor Snape, Harry.”
”You meant for him to end up with the Elder Wand, didn’t you? But you never told him.”
”Yes”, Dumbledore sighs. ”I admit, that was my intention… But it did not work out as I had intended, did it?”
”No”, Harry says, trying to feel cold towards the other man but not really managing. ”That bit didn’t work out.”
They sit in silence for the longest time. The creature keeps making its horrible noises, but Harry finds it easier and easier to block them out.
Then, the realisation of what must happen next, settles over Harry like a smothering blanket and for a second he struggles to breathe through it.
”I’ve got to go back, haven’t I?”
”That is up to you”, Dumbledore says.
”I’ve got a choice?” Harry says, not really believing it.
”Oh yes”, Dumbledore says anyway. ”We’re in King’s Cross station, you say? Well, I think, that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to… let’s say… board a train.”
”A train? And where would it take me?”
”On”, Dumbledore says simply and shrugs.
For a moment Harry thinks of Severus and painful longing squeezes his heart. He feels so exhausted, so done with all of it… He had thought it would be over, he had walked into that clearing believing it would be the last thing he would ever have to do… He had spent his last ounce of strength on that last step — that last moment of holding himself up, maintaining the eye contact with Voldemort —
”Would — would he be there?” Harry asks, his voice a bit more strangled than he would have liked but Dumbledore is kind enough to pretend not to have noticed. ”If I go on, will I see him again?”
”That I cannot say”, Dumbledore says and looks away.
”When I used the Resurrection Stone… He… He didn’t show up —”
Harry swallows down the rest of whatever he’d meant to say, the lump in his throat growing and he feels his eyes prick with tears. Severus didn’t come to him in his moment of need, like his parents and Sirius, he didn’t come to support him, to tell him he loves him and that he’s proud of him… Maybe he doesn’t, maybe he isn’t…
”Harry”, Dumbledore says quietly. ”There is another explanation…”
”W-What —?” he gasps thickly, as a couple of tears break free and run down his face. ”What explanation?”
”You know the an—”
”—Stop it! Just tell me!”
Dumbledore simply gazes at him steadily, refusing to speak.
What? Harry thinks. What other possible explanation could there be for Severus refusing to come back from the dead to see me, to support me, to accompany me —?
He suddenly remembers the absence of a portrait in the Headmaster’s Office; he remembers Severus half-shut eyes, dull with exhaustion but not exactly empty, not yet… He feels a pressure over his chest and gasps. It’s too much.
Severus — not dead?
But no, that tiny flicker of hope is too cruel, much too cruel…
”I think, if you choose to return, Harry… you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart, and maybe… maybe… our friend will be saved, as well…”
Harry stares into the old man’s eyes for a long moment. They don’t twinkle anymore, but there is a sheen in them that tells Harry he at least means well. But the thought of returning… to pain, and the fear of more loss… of disappointment and grief beyond belief… Walking into the Forest had been easier than this.
”Tell me one last thing”, Harry demands. ”Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?”
Dumbledore smiles at him once more, and the bright mist rises around them, obscuring him more and more from Harry’s view.
”Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry… but why on earth should that mean that is is not real?”
*
Harry slowly becomes aware of his face pressed to the ground again and is struck by a sense of deja vu, but this time, the smells of the forest and the fire also fills his nostrils, and pain travels through his body in shock waves. The place on his chest where the Killing Curse had hit him feels like the throbbing bruise of an iron-clad punch.
He does not stir, but listens intently; there are no cheers of triumph like he would have expected… instead there are hurried footsteps, whispers and murmurs…
”My Lord… my Lord…” Bellatrix Lestrange’s worried voice filters over to Harry over the roar of the fire, but he does not dare open his eyes.
He can feel his wand pressed between his chest and the ground. Can he risk it —?
”My Lord…”
”That will do”, Voldemort’s cold voice hisses.
More hurried footsteps. Desperate to see what’s going on, Harry risks opening his eyes by a millimetre.
Voldemort seems to be getting to his feet, and various Death Eaters are backing away from him. Bellatrix alone remains kneeling at his side.
Harry quickly lets his eyes slide shut again, processing what he’s just seen. The Death Eaters had all been huddled around Voldemort, who seemed to have fallen to the ground. Had he too collapsed after firing the Killing Curse at Harry? Had he been out cold as well?
The tiny, pitiful creature from King’s Cross station springs to Harry’s mind and he feels a sickening jolt.
”My Lord, let me —”
”I do not require assistance”, he says coldly. ”The boy… is he dead?”
Complete silence. Nobody approaching him.
”You”, Voldemort snaps and there is a bang followed by a woman’s cry of pain. ”Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead.”
Harry remains still, while his heart hammers traitorously in his chest, waiting with bated breath for the person to approach him and feel his pulse and know…
A soft, trembling hand touches his face suddenly, then creeps down his shirt… resting for a moment against his beating heart…
Then long hair tickles his face as she leans down further…
”Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?” Narcissa Malfoy whispers urgently, her lips brushing the shell of his ear.
”Yes”, Harry breathes back.
The hand on his chest clenches over his heart, her long nails scratching his skin. Then it withdraws and the hair leaves his face as she sits up.
”He is dead!”
Now they start shouting and cheering, clapping their hands and stamping their feet, and through his eyelids Harry can see bursts of red and silver light shooting into the air in celebration.
Still feigning death on the ground, Harry finally understands. Narcissa must have known that the only way for her to go into Hogwarts and find her son, is as part of the conquering army. She no longer cares whether Voldemort wins. She only wants her son back.
”You see!” Voldemort screeches triumphantly over the tumult. ”Harry Potter is dead by my hands, no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! Crucio!”
Harry was expecting it, he had known that his body would not be left unsullied — it must be subjected to humiliation to prove Voldemort’s victory — and he forces himself to remain limp and relaxed as his body is lifted into the air… but the pain that he’d expected never comes. He is thrown three more times into the air, his glasses falling off his face and the wand slipping from his pocket, but he feels no pain at all… when he finally falls to the ground for the last time, the clearing fills with jeers and shrieks of laughter.
”Now”, Voldemort says. ”Wo go to the castle and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag the body? No — wait —”
There is a fresh outburst of laughter from the Death Eaters.
”You can carry him”, Voldemort says and Harry feels the ground tremble as heavy footsteps approach him. ”Go on, pick up your little friend, Hagrid… and the glasses, put on the glasses — he must be recognisable, after all —!”
Harry feels his glasses slam back onto his face with painful force, but the large hands that lift him from the ground are gentle. Harry shakes in Hargid’s hands as the half-giant tremble with sobs, his tears drip from his face and splashes onto Harry’s…
”Move”, Voldemort says.
Hagrid stumbles forward, cradling Harry’s lifeless body to his chest and sobbing quietly. The victorious procession forces its way through the close-growing trees until finally they reach the edge of the Forest and light of dawn settles over them.
”Stop”, Voldemort says and Hagrid stumbles to a halt.
Someone passes close by to Hagrid and Harry, and Harry holds his breath. He realises it is Voldemort himself when he speaks again, and this time his voice is magically magnified to ring out across the grounds and reach the people inside the castle.
”Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save his himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone… The battle is won. You have already lost half your fighters and my Death Eaters out-number you. The Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. But anyone who continues to resist, be it man, woman or child, will be slaughtered along with their entire family… Come out of the castle now, and kneel before me, and you will however be spared… Your parents, brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven. And you will join me in the new world that we shall build together.”
And then they’re walking again. Harry dares to open his eyes a slit and sees Voldemort striding in front of them, leading the way to the castle. Nagini is lying around his shoulders, free of her magical cage once more… if only Harry had his wand…
They come to a halt once more, and Harry sees the warm light spilling out of the open doors to the Entrance Hall through the flesh of his eyelids.
”NO!”
The scream is even more terrible to Harry because he had never expected that such a broken sound could ever come from Professor McGonagall. He can hear Bellatrix laughing close by. Harry squints his eyes open just a fraction and sees the doorway and the front steps of the castle fill up with all the survivors, their shocked and pained shouts mixing with the jeers from the Death Eaters.
Then amongst the grief-stricken exclamations, insults and threats can be heard instead and Harry’s chest swells as he can make out the voices of the Weasley twins, and Percy, and Ron and Hermione.
”SILENCE!” Voldemort screams. ”It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet where he belongs…”
Harry feels himself lowered to the ground carefully and forces himself to remain limp.
”You see?” Voldemort says savagely. ”Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!”
”He beat you!” Ron bellows back, and that seems to trigger the others who immediately start shouting and screaming again defiantly.
There is a resounding bang as Voldemort casts a spell that renders them all silent.
”He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds, killed while trying to save himself —”
But Voldemort breaks off and Harry can hear a scuffle and shout, then another bang and a flash of light; there’s a grunt of pain and when he carefully squints his eyes open this time, he can see that someone has broken free of the crowd and charged at Voldemort, but is now collapsed on the ground, Disarmed. Voldemort tosses the defyer’s wand aside and it lands with a clatter half a metre away from Harry…
”And who is this?” Voldemort says and takes a step closer to his crumpled form. ”Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?”
Bellatrix shrieks with laughter, ”It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows such trouble! The son of the Aurors Longbottom, remember?”
”Ah, yes, I remember…” Voldemort says softly as he advances on Neville, who is now struggling to his feet, unarmed and unprotected. ”But you are a pureblood, aren’t you, my brave boy?”
”So what if I am?” Neville says loudly, his voice clear and unwavering.
”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 says. ”Dumbledore’s Army!”
There is an answering cheer from the crowd that Voldemort’s silencing charm seems unable to contain.
”Very well”, Voldemort says coldly. ”If that is your choice, Longbottom… On your head… be it…”
Still watching through his lashes, Harry sees Voldemort wave his wand and something crashes out of a window in the castle and flies into his hand. He shakes it out: it’s the Sorting Hat.
”There will be no more Sortings at Hogwarts! There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield and colours of my noble ancestor Salazar Slytherin will suffice for everyone, or what do you say, Neville Longbottom?”
He points his wand at Neville, who becomes rigid and still, and taking the last remaining steps between himself and Neville, Voldemort forces the hat onto the boy’s head and then steps back again. He points the wand at him once more and in the next second, the Sorting Hat is set ablaze.
No, Harry thinks, I have to do something —
But then several things happen at once: Grawp comes lumbering out from behind the castle, shouting for Hagrid; an uproar of war cries and hooves can be heard from the Forest behind them and the scattering footsteps of the Death Eaters breaking ranks as arrows are fired into their midst; and Neville breaks free of the Body-Binding Curse in one swift, fluid movement and pulls the still burning hat off his head, and from inside it he pulls something shiny —
The slash of the silver blade cannot be heard over the stampeding centaurs or the roar of the crowd, yet every single eye seems drawn to the movement, and Harry lets his eyes fly all the way open for the first time:
With a single stroke, that seems at first to have been aimed at Voldemort but missing him by inches, Neville slices off the great snake’s head. Voldemort’s mouth is open in a scream of fury that nobody can hear, as the snake’s body falls off his shoulders and thuds to the ground at his feet.
Harry quickly reaches out his hand for Neville’s wand and grabs it, he casts a Shield Charm between Neville and Voldemort before the latter has shaken himself out of his shock and raised his wand once more.
Then he stands up on shaky legs and squares his shoulders, pointing the wand at Voldemort. It takes several seconds before anyone has registered it, but once the first startled gasp erupts from the crowd, it has a domino effect on the rest. Shouts of triumph and disbelief mingle together. Voldemort stands frozen on the spot and stares at Harry, who resolutely stares back — pleased to see a hint of fear in the red eyes…
The cheers and screams on either side are stifled at once, as Voldemort and Harry stays in their eye-lock, then slowly start to circle each other…
”No-one else try to help!” Harry shouts clearly. ”It’s got to be me.”
”Potter doesn’t mean that”, Voldemort hisses. ”That’s not how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?”
”Nobody”, Harry says simply. ”There are no more Horcruxes. It’s just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good…”
”One of us”, Voldemort jeers. ”And you think it will be me, do you? The boy who lived by accident and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings…”
”Accident was it?” Harry says. ”That my mum died to save me? Accident that I chose to fight in that graveyard? Accident that I didn’t even defend myself tonight and still survived, and returned to fight again?”
”Accidents!” Voldemort says shrilly, but there is a glint of panic in his eyes now. ”Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and snivelled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!”
”You won’t be killing anyone else tonight”, Harry vows as they continue to circle each other. ”You won’t be able to kill any of them ever again. Don’t you get it? I was ready to die to stop you hurting these people —”
”But you didn’t die!”
”— but I meant to. I’ve done exactly what my mother did. They’re protected from you now. You can’t torture them, you can’t kill them… you don’t learn from your mistakes, do you, Riddle?”
”You dare —”
”Yes, I dare”, Harry says firmly. ”I know things you don’t know, Tom Riddle —”
”Is it love again?” Voldemort spits in disgust. ”Dumbledore’s favourite solution, love, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling to his death from the tower, did it? Love did not stop his body from breaking like an old waxwork? Just as love did not stop me from stamping out your Mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter — and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse, so what will stop you from dying now when I strike?”
”Just one thing”, Harry says calmly.
”If it is not love that will save you this time… you must believe that you have magic that I do not, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?”
”I believe both”, Harry says and for a moment shock flits across the snake-like face staring into his, but it is instantly dispelled as Voldemort begins to laugh — it is a horrible sound, cold and humourless.
”You think you know more magic than I do? Than I, than Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?”
”Oh he dreamed of it, but he knew more than you, knew enough not to do what you’ve done—”
”You mean he was weak! Too weak to dare, too weak to take what might have been his, and will be mine! I brought about the death of your precious Albus Dumbledore! He is dead because I willed it so!”
”You thought so, but you were wrong”, Harry says.
”Dumbledore is dead!”
”Yes, he is dead. But you didn’t have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant… You see, Severus Snape wasn’t yours. He was Dumbledore’s. And he was mine —” finally Harry’s voice breaks, but it doesn’t matter, Voldemort is so shocked and frightened now that he hasn’t even noticed.
”It matters not!” Voldemort shrieks. ”It matters not whether Snape was mine or Dumbledore’s, or what petty obstacles they might have put in my path, I crushed them all as I crushed your mother, Potter and as I crushed Snape — oh, but it all makes sense now, and in a way you don’t understand, Potter! — Dumbledore was trying to keep the Elder Wand from me! He intended for Snape to be its master, but I got there ahead of you, little boy, you see I reached the wand before you could get your hands on it and I killed Severus Snape three hours ago, the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny is truly mine now! Dumbledore’s plan went wrong, Harry Potter!”
”Yeah, it did”, Harry says. ”You’re right. But before you try to kill me, I advise you to think about what you’ve done… think, and try for remorse, Riddle…”
”What is this?” Voldemort says, more shocked by these words than anything else Harry has been telling him, and Harry saw his pupils contract to thin slits, saw the skin around his red eyes whiten.
”It’s your last chance”, Harry says. ”It’s all you’ve got left… I’ve seen what you’ll be otherwise…”
”You dare —?”
”Yes, I dare. Because Dumbledore’s last plan hasn’t backfired on me at all. It’s backfired on you, Riddle… That wand still isn’t working properly for you, because Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore… Dumbledore’s death was planned between them. Dumbledore intended to die undeafeted, the wand’s last true master, but the Elder Wand recognised a new master before Dumbledore died… Someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realising what he’d done…”
Voldemort’s chest is heaving with laboured breaths, and Harry can see the curse building inside him, see the point if the Elder Wand twitching slightly as it points against his own chest.
”The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy”, Harry says.
Blank shock flickers onto Voldemort’s face for a moment, but then it’s gone again.
”But what does it matter?” he says softly. ”Even if you are right, Potter it makes no difference to you and me… we will duel on skill alone, and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy…”
”But you’re too late… You missed your chance, I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago and took his wand from him. Question is, does the wand in your hand know its master was Disarmed? Because if it does… I am the true master of the Elder Wand.”
I hope I’m right, Harry thinks faintly — but remembering how Voldemort’s Cruciatus Curse had not managed to cause him any pain, he knows he is…
Voldemort draws a sudden breath and Harry sees him open his mouth —
”Avada Kedavra!” / ”Expelliarmus!”
The bang is like a cannon-blast, Harry sees Voldemort’s green jet meet his own red, like a mirror to their eye-lock, and then the Elder Wand goes flying out of Voldemort’s hand and spins high in the air between them before falling towards Harry — who catches it —
Voldemort falls backwards, his arms splayed helplessly and the slit pupils of his scarlet eyes rolling back into his head. He hits the ground with a thump and stays motionless, his body seeming suddenly small and shrunken… his snake-like face vacant…
Harry’s heart skips a beat: Voldemort’s is dead…