The Last Battle

The Last Battle

Weasley can save anything

He never leaves a single ring

That's why Gryffindors all sing

Weasley is our King!

Potter never fails to impress

He'll catch the snitch before the rest

Bring glory to the lions crest

Potter is the best!

Gryffindor has won the game

Left the rest out in the rain

As we continue our mighty reign

Gryffindor wins again!

As Harry and Ron were carried on top of a heaving mass of red and gold, Harry couldn't help smiling. Beneath him, the crowd was roaring out the words of the new, improved version of "Weasley is our King." He didn't know where it had come from, just that he had heard the "Potter never fails..." verse as he closed his hand around the snitch. And now the crowd seemed reluctant to stop singing the three verse song.

He glanced across at Ron, who was beaming so widely that Harry thought his head would split in two. He didn't seem to mind Harry sharing his song; after all, he was still King Weasley, a fitting title for the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team who had seen his team give away a mere eighty points over the last two years. A record culminating in today's game, which gave Gryffindor the cup for the third year in a row...fourth if you discounted Harry and Ron's fourth year.

Harry grinned at Ron, who winked and threw him the handsome quidditch cup. Harry caught it deftly, and waved it above his head as the crowd cheered even louder. Nothing, Harry thought, could spoil tonight.

How wrong he was..

* * *

"All students please go immediately to the Great Hall."

The clipped Scottish tones of Professor McGonagall, headmistress since the death of Dumbledore the previous year, rang through the hallways of Hogwarts. Up in the Gryffindor common room, the partying came to an abrupt halt. As the younger years looked fearful, Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. Surely the fates wouldn't be so cruel as to allow Voldemort to spoil this special night? But from the looks on his friends' faces, Harry guessed that they were thinking the same as he was. Without sharing a word, Ron and Hermione rounded up the students and led them out of the door. Harry brought up the rear, along with Ginny Weasley.

"You...you don't think it's him, do you, Harry?" asked Ginny with wide eyes. Harry shrugged.

"Who else could it be? Anyway, it'd be just like him to spoil this, our last ever game of Quidditch."

"It won't be your last, Harry, not if you don't want it to be. You know that Oliver Wood always said you could play for England."

"That's supposing I survive that long," Harry said, darkly. He had finally shared the contents of Trelawney's prophecy at the end of his sixth year, telling Ron, Hermione and Ginny just before he left them for Privet Drive. Of the three, Ginny had taken it the worst. Harry had originally thought that it was because she had fought her own battle against Voldemort, albeit when he was still Tom Riddle. He knew that Ginny had some idea of what Lord Voldemort was capable of, more so than his other friends. Lately, though, Harry had begun to wonder. He suspected that Ginny felt something for him, despite claiming to be over her crush. If I had been a normal boy, he thought, I'd jump at the chance to go out with Ginny Weasley. But I'm not normal. Voldemort made sure of that.

Harry thumped his fist into the palm of his hand in anger

"Damn him!" he said fiercely. Why does he always spoil everything?

Ginny gave him a tentative look, and he smiled weakly.

"Don't worry, Gin, I'm sure it's nothing major."

But even as he spoke the words, he knew that they weren't true.

As they entered the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall motioned for them all to sit on the floor. All the other houses were already there, but Harry couldn't help noticing that several of the older Slytherins, Malfoy included, were conspicuous only in their absence. That couldn't be good, he thought. Above him, the ceiling showed a patchy night sky, and it looked like it was about to rain. Harry looked around at the hall. The House tables were stacked against the walls near the door. They looked ominously like potential barricades. All around, students talked in hushed whispers, wondering why they were sitting on the floor. A few looked around as the Gryffindors came in, but most seemed engrossed in discussing what was happening.

The usual banners and candles brightened the walls, but even they could not brighten the mood, or eradicate the terrible air of suspense and waiting.

"Students, staff, I have called you here to give you some terrible news." Professor McGonagall's voice shook slightly as she looked across the sea of faces before her. Many of the older students bowed their heads, knowing somehow what was to come.

"He-who-must-not-be-named has gathered together all of his Death Eaters, and is preparing to make the largest attack in this war so far.

"Where?" shouted out a Ravenclaw sixth year.

"Here. Here at Hogwarts." Harry had never seen Professor McGonagall look so solemn, and there was another emotion that he had never seen in her eyes. Fear. Professor McGonagall was scared.

"I and the professors need to have a word; after that, all students will be escorted down to the dungeons. I ask you all to stay strong, but most importantly to follow instructions precisely. I need not tell you that this is likely to be the darkest hour in the history of our school."

As the other teachers joined the Headmistress in leaving the dais for the side room, Harry felt two people come up behind him. He turned to see who it was, but he felt he knew who it would be.

"Alright, Harry?" Ron asked quietly, looking at him in concern.

"Yeah," Harry said, but inside, he was anything but.

"No," Harry suddenly exploded. "We can't just sit around and wait for Voldemort to destroy Hogwarts. We have to do something..." he corrected himself, "I have to do something."

"Not on your own, you don't," Hermione said, putting a calming hand on his shoulder.

"You know I'm the only one who can defeat him!" Harry hissed angrily, bringing the level of his voice down to match that of his friends.

"Yeah, mate," said Ron," But we can help you get there."

Harry glared at them. Why couldn't they see that they didn't need to put their lives in unnecessary danger?

"Harry, do you have your DA galleon with you?" Hermione asked him, looking thoughtful. Harry put his hand in his pocket. Although he hadn't felt like calling a meeting since Christmas, he still carried his coin with him. He felt safer with it, for some reason. He drew it out of his pocket and handed it to Hermione.

"What do you want that for?" asked Ron, looking over Hermione's shoulder.

"You'll see," she said, tapping it with her wand. She handed it back to Harry.

"What was that about?" Harry asked her. Before she could reply, Ron gave a short ouch of pain, and pulled a galleon out of his own pocket. As Harry looked around the hall, he could see several more of the older students echoing Ron's movements. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You alright, Harry?"

He spun around to see Ernie McMillan, Head Boy, looking at him. Behind him stood Justin Finch-Fletchley, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot.

"Justin and Hannah felt their coins burn," Ernie explained. "But there wasn't a date on them, and we wondered why you'd be calling a meeting now."

"I didn't," Harry said. "It was Hermione."

"You said we have to do something," Hermione reminded him. "Who better to help than the DA?"

Sure enough, Harry saw that they were surrounded now by other students, all looking curiously at the Gryffindors to find out what was going on. Harry looked to Hermione, but she motioned him to do the talking. Harry cleared his throat nervously. Two years of the DA had made him slightly better at public speaking, but he still felt uneasy with all the eyes on him.

"OK, so you all felt your coins burn. That's because we reckon that we can't just sit around and let Voldemort..." he paused for the usual collective wince, "...just take over without a fight. The last two years, we've been preparing to fight, and tonight, I'm going to face Voldemort myself."

A gasp went up from the crowd.

"Why you, Harry?" Michael Corner asked disbelief on his face.

"I'm not going into details," Harry said "But I'm the only one who can."

All the other students looked at him in disbelief, and some of them muttered amongst themselves. Harry was reminded sharply of fifth year, when everyone suspected him of being a liar and an attention-seeker.

"I'm not going to prove it to you; it's how it is. Why would I say it, if it wasn't true?" Harry demanded.

"He's right," Hermione said, butting in. Her sentiments were echoed by nods from Ron and Ginny.

"Right," Harry continued, feeling slightly better. "I don't know where Voldemort is, but I have to find him." He ignored the intake of breath this time.

"Harry, the map!" Hermione reminded him.

"Oh yeah." He pulled the Marauders Map out of his pocket. He rarely bothered to wipe it now, feeling confident that no one would want to search him. He studied it intensely, Hermione and Ron looking over his shoulder. It was ironic, he thought, that now Dumbledore was gone, people were treating him with the same awe they had always reserved for the former headmaster. Even the teachers were wary of him, and treated him with far greater respect than they did all the other students. Maybe it's something to do with the fact that I walked away from a battle in which Dumbledore died, Harry thought sarcastically.

He looked closely at the map, scrutinising the grounds.

"Voldemort's not here" Harry said, and as he did so, his forehead burned sharply.

"What is it?" Ginny asked nervously.

"He's in the Department of Mysteries, in the Veil room," Harry said. He didn't know how he knew, as Voldemort had not shown him a picture, but it was as if he had always known. "I have to go there."

"To the Ministry? Are you mad?" Neville piped up. As the other students realised what Harry was planning on, they added their cries to Neville's.

"Keep it down!" Harry hissed.

"Oh, come on," said Hermione. "Lets discuss this in the entrance hall; no one will hear us there."

"Don't you think they'll notice if we disappear?" Ron asked, with a sideways look at Harry.

"Probably," Hermione replied "But not for a few minutes. Come on. Is anyone looking at us?"

"Well, yes. You and Ernie are the Head Girl and Boy after all," Harry pointed out.

"We need a diversion. Here." Ginny pressed something into Harry's hand. He opened his fist to reveal a dungbomb. Harry slipped through the crowd to the centre of the room and dropped it, before making his way back to his friends. Behind him, all the other students were beginning to fix their attention on the smell emanating from the broken bomb.

"Let's go," whispered Harry urgently, as he opened the door to the entrance hall.

They all followed him out of the Great Hall, and in the confusion, no-one seemed to notice the older students leaving. Harry led them across the hall to stand just inside the front doors. He motioned to Ron, who was last out, to shut the doors of the hall, and turned to face the students. Without giving any of them a chance to say something, he started again.

"Voldemort is in the Ministry. I have to get there, so one way or another, this whole damn war can be finished."

Instead of arguing this time, the others just looked at him. It was obvious from his voice that he wouldn't brook any arguments

"How are you going to get there, Harry?" Luna asked. "The Thestrals again?"

"No, Thestrals would be too slow," Harry said. "I'll have to apparate."

"You can't apparate on..." Hermione started

"The Hogwarts grounds," Harry completed. "I know, Hermione. So I'm going to have to get outside the grounds."

"But there're Death Eaters all over," Ginny said, pointing at the map which Harry still held.

"I know. So that's why I'm going on my own. You lot can stay and fight, or hide if you'd rather. I'm gonna make a break for it, towards the gates. Once I'm there, I can apparate out."

There were several cries of protest at this.

"You'll get taken out before you reach the gate," Dennis Creevey pointed out.

"I'm going to have to take that risk," Harry replied quickly.

"It's too dangerous," Neville said quietly. "You can't risk yourself."

"Come on, Ron, back me up here," pleaded Harry, looking at his best friend.

"It sounds a bit risky," said Ron, doubt in his eyes. Harry let his breath explode out of him.

"Come on Ron. You play chess, don't you? Then you know that sometimes the best attack is one piece, straight down the middle."

"That's true," Ron started, and Harry made for the door in triumph. Before he had gone two steps, he realised that the other students were still right behind him. He turned around and glared at Ron, who was leading.

"But you never send that piece unprotected," Ron continued. "We're all coming with you, mate."