If the Fates Allow

Chapter 28

And either must die at the hand of the other

"The question is not whether we will die, but how we will live."

(Joan Borysenko)

Voldemort couldn't believe his eyes: Amrita was sprawled on the floor; her chest was no longer rising and falling, and her red-gold locks fell into her chalk-white face, hiding her closed eyes like some curly curtain.

"What... what have you done?" he hissed, his snake-like red eyes meeting Harry's haunted green ones.

Slowly, as though he had only now realised what he'd done, Harry lowered his wand. "I've robbed you of the last blood-supply, Voldemort. Her blood only worked for you as long as she was alive."

"But she wasn't the last!" the Dark Lord snapped. "You're still here!"

"I'm invulnerable, Voldemort," Harry reminded his opponent. "You can't get any blood from me, for my skin can't be cut."

"Then... then there's your baby daughter!" said the Dark Lord hastily, as though trying to prove to Harry that he still had leverage.

The young wizard just shook his head. "The baby isn't mine."

Voldemort's eyes widened. "Not... not yours?"

"Not mine. If you took her blood, then you took the wrong blood... her blood hasn't restored your powers. It never will."

Harry thought he saw a flash of fear run through the Dark Lord's face. Oh yes... Voldemort was in his hands now. He only had to wait and the greatest dark wizard of the century would be worse than a common Muggle.

"You're... you're bluffing for sure!" stammered Voldemort. "You're just trying to lie to me, to threaten me, but I swear you won't succeed, Potter!"

Harry took a deep sigh and looked directly into the Dark Lord's eyes, then in a small, but serious voice he said: "I swear on the love I felt and still feel for my daughter that I told you the truth, Voldemort."

"No... that can't be... that can't!" The wand in Voldemort's hand trembled as much as his whole body shook. His knees were going weak...

Suddenly there was a gasp from behind. Harry didn't need to turn around to see who it was: Wormtail.

"A... Amrita?" The small Death Eater said and stepped closer, his bulging eyes fixed on the prone form of the little girl. "Wormie's little angel... wake up!" he said in a beseeching voice. However, Amrita didn't reply. "She's... she's not...?" He looked questioningly at Harry, who felt as though he'd been stabbed by a lance through the heart. The desperate pain on Pettigrew's face made it all sink in... After he'd uttered the Helios spell, he had only thought of having rid Voldemort of his chance to replenish his powers, this way having saved the world as well... Now it sank in that he'd actually murdered his own daughter for it. Not that it hadn't been on his mind for months, not that he hadn't been sort of planning to do this... it was just that knowing what one should do and really doing it were two wholly different things.

Harry hung his head, and Wormtail let out an almighty 'NOOOOOOOO!', dropping to his knees and gathering the child's lifeless body into his arms.

Harry didn't know whether it had been Wormtail's scream that lured many of the combatants out of the library, but in the next instant curses streaked over Harry's shoulder and Voldemort could barely deflect them. Harry just couldn't move, his eyes were still fixed on his dead daughter and Peter Pettigrew, who was sobbing into the little girl's curly hair, holding her carefully in his arms as though she were still alive. With his 360 degrees vision, Harry saw that it had been Ginny and Nausika who'd sent those curses at Voldemort, only to be attacked by the Lestrange couple; however the focus of his attention never left Amrita and Wormtail. For the first time in his life he felt sorry for Pettigrew. Sorry because it had long been obvious to him that Pettigrew loved this child as though she were his own. Harry didn't even try to persuade himself that he, as Amrita's father, loved her more than Wormtail did - truth was that he didn't know Amrita enough for that. Pettigrew, on the other hand, had known the child ever since she was born... his pain must have been even greater than Harry's.

*What are you waiting for?* Linda's voice shook him out of his reverie. *Everyone's fighting, Harry! Come on, curse Father! Make him at least try to retaliate!*

You're right, he thought, and sent a Full Body Bind jinx at Voldemort, expecting him to try and deflect it easily. Voldemort, who was busy enough defending himself from Fred's curse-shower, needed a great deal of effort to deflect Harry's jinx at the same time. As he did it, their eyes locked for a millisecond, and Harry again saw fear in those red snake-eyes.

*He already knows what you're playing at* remarked Linda.

It doesn't matter that he knows, replied Harry and this time aimed a Tarantallegra at the Dark Lord. He can no longer do anything against it...

*True* she agreed as Voldemort deflected the hex.

Nearby Ginny managed to Stun Rodolphus Lestrange who hit the floor and Nausika immediately summoned his wand. Bellatrix tried to shout Enervate at her husband, but all she managed to utter was the first syllable, for Fred yelled Silencio at her. After Rodolphus lost consciousness, Nausika sent a scorching curse at the Dark Lord, but Voldemort ducked and it hit one of his young Death Eaters whose robes caught fire. If Harry hadn't put an Extinguishing Charm on him out of the goodness of his heart, he would have suffered serious burns. Just a second after putting out the fire, Harry bound the young Death Eater with magical ropes.

*You're too merciful, Harry* Linda voiced her opinion.

He's way too young to die, replied Harry bitterly. Young and deceived. Everyone deserves a second chance.

*Father doesn't*

True, he doesn't.

His eyes shifted to Peter Pettigrew, and he was surprised to see that Peter had stopped crying. Actually, he was eyeing the Dark Lord in a rather peculiar way... there was some sort of madness in his watery little eyes... Harry couldn't help but gape at him as he suddenly released Amrita's body, and eyes gleaming with fury, he pointed his wand at Voldemort.

At first Voldemort didn't even notice Wormtail, for he was too occupied with deflecting curses from various Circle members and Weasleys, but as Wormtail's words 'YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS!' boomed across the corridor, he was forced to look at his most pathetic servant... only this servant didn't look a bit pathetic now. He looked dangerous. Crazy. And most of all: hate-filled.

Before Voldemort could at all comprehend the mixture of emotions on Peter's face, he was hit by a blast from Peter's wand and knocked against the wall of the corridor. Had he been his old self, he would easily have defended himself, but... he wasn't nearly as strong, nearly as quick... he felt tired.

However, he still had enough strength to punish his servant for turning against him... Before he knew what hit him, Wormtail fell backwards and landed unconscious on top of Amrita's body.

Panting, Voldemort leant against the wall. This last curse had drained him. He glanced in the direction of the entrance - perhaps there was still a way to escape, if only he could reach that front door somehow...

At that moment the front door opened to let seven people in: four of them were old Circle members named Gaia, Pasiphae, Nessus and Iphicles, followed by the new members: the three sirens.

Spotting the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, they immediately shot Stunners and various curses at them, and Voldemort needed all his energies to defend himself, knowing well enough what would happen if he didn't manage to flee soon. Now that seven members of the Circle had returned and joined the fight on the Light Side, the Death Eaters - only a few of whom were not yet stunned or disabled - were outnumbered. A young Death Eater got knocked out by a curse from Fred, while Macnair was dazedly staggering around with an enamoured expression on his face. So was Goyle, his eyes dreamy and his hands pressed over his chest, heaving sighs. The latter was due to the fact that Nymph, Nympha and Nympho started singing. However, none of the male Circle members fell under the effect of their song, for Nessus and Iphicles had cast deafening charms on themselves. Poor Fred, however, got the full blast of the beautiful creatures' magic and at the moment would have jumped into a well if any of the three sisters had asked him to. Harry, noticing that his friend was in trouble, cast a sobering charm on him that worked pretty well, given that Fred's state was very close to being drunk, he was only drunk with love, not alcohol.

"Thanks, mate." Fred gave him the thumbs-up. The effect of Harry's sobering charm was expected to last for at least an hour, so he was in no danger of getting enchanted by the sirens for a while.

With his special vision that allowed him to see through walls, Harry checked the library to see three Death Eaters still battling with Draco, Phaedra and George (the latter had obviously regained consciousness), while Jason was still knocked out. Leto seemed to be holding Spiro in her arms, and though Spiro looked horrible, he was definitely alive.

For Voldemort everything seemed to have become a blur. The path to the entrance was blocked by several combatants, and he couldn't blast his way through them, for he didn't have enough powers left for it. For a second it flashed through his mind that he should try and Apparate to the entrance - perhaps Apparating inside the Headquarters was possible, just in and out Apparating was impossible - he didn't know. With all his might he tried to concentrate on Apparating to the front door, but realised that even if it were possible, he wouldn't have been able to. He was weak. Weaker than he had ever felt, save for his body-less state so many years ago... However, there was a great difference between these two weaknesses: when he'd lost his body, he hadn't fully lost his powers, he still could possess animals and even people, but now he had a body... but barely any powers left.

Leaning against the wall to support his weight, he slowly slid down to the ground. A Latin phrase came to his mind: 'sic transit gloria mundi'. Thus the world's glory passes by. So did his glory pass by... the greatest Dark wizard of the century - reduced to a pathetic, powerless Muggle. No, not even a Mudblood, not even a Squib. A Muggle. The sort of person whom he had hated and despised - a person with no magic powers. A person like his own detested father.

With glassy eyes he looked at the combatants, who seemed to have stopped fighting - were they all gaping at him? - he wondered. What are you looking at? he thought. The pathetic body of a dying animal?

Why? - another voice in his head asked. Are you any more than a pathetic animal now?

No... I'm not.

Look at the people around! Don't they look happy?

Oh, yes, they do. I'm defeated. I'm lost. The Potter boy seems to be the only one here who knows what's happening to me... the others are just gaping stupidly. Even Bellatrix. Hey, Bella, what sort of Death Eater mentality is this? Never give up, never surrender!

Give it up, not even you can fight anymore, how are you expecting them to fight then? You've been their idol, Voldemort!

Voldemort? Am I STILL Voldemort?

Look at that red-haired girl. She's looking at you funnily. She's seeing you as... Tom.

Is she?

Just look at her face! What do you see there? Disgust. Hate. And pity. Isn't she the one who was writing in your diary? Didn't Lucius say she was a Weasley? All Weasleys have red hair...

And what if she is that girl? snapped Voldemort to himself.

Doesn't the name Weasley ring a bell? the voice inside his head got tempting, enticing. She's Potter's little sweetheart. The one with whom you lured him into the trap six years ago! He loves her...

She married the Malfoy boy! And Potter seems to have married some Greek witch!

They still love each other... the voice whispered.

And?

You still have a bit of power, Tom! You almost killed her in the Chamber of Secrets... then Potter saved her, though he never even loved her back then. Now he loves her... He made this wreck of you, remember! You want to retaliate!

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, and the wand still clutched in his hand shifted a bit... Yes, I still have enough power for that... for one - last - spell...

A devilish smirk appeared on the Dark Lord's face, and Harry instinctively knew that he was about to do something. With his 360 degrees vision he could see several things happening at the same time if he concentrated. Most Death Eaters were lying on the floor, stunned or disabled, Bellatrix was one of the few still upright, her eyes fixed on her master's face, her features revealing horror at what she was seeing. A bit to the right Nausika was panting, pressing her right hand over her heart. Fred, who had recently received a Jelly Leg Jinx from one of the Death Eaters, was supported by Nymph and Nympho, and Ginny was nursing a bleeding nose several feet away from Harry. Voldemort's wand stirred, a move barely noticeable to the naked eye, but thanks to his special vision, it didn't escape Harry's attention. It happened in the blink of an eye: Voldemort shouted Avada Kedavra at Ginny, and at the same time Harry shouted Tempus Glacietur!

The green flash of lightning froze in midair between Voldemort's wand and Ginny's body - so did everything and everyone else. Harry heaved a huge sigh: if he hadn't been quick enough to freeze time, Ginny would be dead now. He wouldn't have had time to jump in front of her to defend her with his invulnerable body, for she was too far from him for that.

With a wave of his wand he Vanished the green lightning, and with a second wave at Voldemort he unfroze his archenemy.

"Clever move," rasped Voldemort. "One of my favourite charms, Time Freezing."

"I know it is," replied Harry. "You used it pretty well on Adela Springfield. She told me about it."

"I take you must have visited the Underworld, Potter," replied Voldemort and with all his remaining strength he heaved himself into a standing position. Even though he felt he'd lost the last vestige of magical powers, he was still Lord Voldemort, and a lord will never surrender to the enemy or crouch at his feet... no, he'd rather face his destiny with his head held proudly up in the air. Dignity was something he'd never lose... Never.

"Yes, I have," replied Harry. "I could tell you lots of interesting things about that place... for example about Tartarus. You'd fit in there wonderfully. You could even play Quidditch for Tartarus..."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Don't mock me, Potter. I might not be as powerful as I used to be, but I swear that if I end up there, I'll make the afterlife of your precious family an eternal hell!"

"Now I am terribly frightened." Harry made a grimace. "But don't count on that, Voldemort. You'll never have a chance to hurt my late loved ones."

"Why not, if I may ask?"

"Because I'm not going to kill you."

"Why not? The prophecy... it said you'd vanquish me. Here, I'm defenceless! Kill me! End it, Potter!"

"Oh... his Lordship doesn't want to live with the knowledge that he's no better than a common Muggle now?" Harry raised an eyebrow at his opponent. "Are you afraid of Azkaban? Perhaps you wouldn't even be put in there - it's a prison for wizards, after all, and you... you're just a M - U - G - G - L - E."

"I would have killed your little lover if you hadn't stopped me! So what's your problem, Potter?" hissed the Dark Lord. "You killed your own child in cold blood, then why not me?"

"Because I'd only do you a favour if I did," said Harry, playfully twirling his wand in his right hand. "I won't be that merciful. You had no mercy on my parents, nor for your own family. You had no mercy on Cedric. You had no mercy on Dumbledore. Not even on the woman you once claimed to love. You had no mercy on your own granddaughter. Why should I have mercy on you?"

Voldemort paled more and more by the second. "Didn't... didn't the prophecy say you'd kill me?"

"It said the following: and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives," Harry recited Trelawney's words to his enemy.

"See? It says that you'll kill me or I'll kill you!" said Voldemort in an almost beseeching voice. "I can't kill you, Harry. So fulfil the prophecy. Kill me."

"You know, Voldemort, Dumbledore was the wisest person I've ever known," replied the young wizard calmly. "I've learnt many things from him, and one of those things was to look beyond the meaning of words, for words can deceive you. They can be interpreted in many ways... and didn't he tell you in the Ministry of Magic that there were things worse than death? Didn't he?"

"What... what do you mean by that?" hissed the Dark Lord, although he already knew what Harry meant, and what Dumbledore had meant so many years ago. Indeed, there were things worse than death. Voldemort had never considered that there could be something worse than ceasing to exist... but living in shame was worse than that. Much, much worse.

"I don't need to explain that, do I?" whispered Harry. "No... I see it in your eyes. You understand it. You know it. You, who have always thirsted after being immortal, have finally recognised that living isn't the most important thing. It's how you live. Powerful, being admired and feared... that's how you lived, but for you it was never enough. You wanted to live forever. Your wish will be granted."

"What?" Voldemort's eyes widened.

Instead of replying, Harry raised his right hand and pointed his index finger at him. "There's one part of the prophecy you haven't heard yet, Tom. It says he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... I have a power like this."

"Wait, what...?" stammered the Dark Lord, but he couldn't finish his sentence, for Harry's finger tip emitted a bluish white beam that hit him in his midsection, knocking the wind out of him. He doubled up and felt nauseated, white-bluish sparks criss-crossing all around him... then it ended and he slumped to the floor.

An explosion came from the library, but he didn't notice - his ears were ringing and his vision was blurred.

Six figures emerged from the library, coughing, their faces and hair covered with soot. For a second Harry felt surprised, and then he noted that the range of the Time Freezing Charm hadn't reached as far as the library, so no one in there froze in time.

His whole body shaking madly, Voldemort stood up as the six figures got closer.

Spiro was supported by Leto, Jason by George, and, most surprisingly, Phaedra and Draco were supporting each other.

When they spotted the frozen people and Harry, facing none other than Voldemort, they all whipped their wands at the Dark Lord, believing Harry to be in serious trouble.

Harry, however, held out his hand to stop them.

"Don't. He's harmless."

"Harmless?" gasped Draco, his eyes radiating 'not even you can be this thick, Potter!'.

"As I said: harmless," repeated Harry.

Draco opened his mouth to say something rude, but Phaedra kicked him in the shin. Draco's face reddened as he bit into his tongue and shot the woman a very nasty glance, but she didn't notice it, for her eyes were fixed upon Voldemort.

However for some reason, Voldemort didn't look like a Dark Lord was supposed to look like. He was leaning against the wall, his breathing shallow and his face revealing fatigue.

"Harry, mate, what do you mean...?" began George, but, to everyone's surprise Voldemort cut in, his eyes fixed on George's face:

"You, boy, I almost killed your father eight years ago!" Then he looked at Draco. "I drew your whole family into my service and ruined their lives... you never really had a family, did you?" He squinted at the Papafotius, addressing Leto: "I wanted to torture your brother to death!" Finally his glance shifted to Phaedra: "And I used your precious little baby for the blood-ritual!"

"What?" hissed Phaedra, but Harry waved to her to calm down.

"It's nothing, Phaedra. Dora is fine."

"But... what sort of blood ritual...?" The young mother clang to this one detail, worry for her daughter filling her heart.

"He thought Dora was mine," replied Harry. "Mine, thus her blood was suitable, or at least partly suitable for replenishing his magical powers."

The others looked at him with confused expressions. "Voldemort here once used my blood to regain his body, but he became addicted to it. Addicted, so that he had to get more and more of it to keep going... to keep his magical powers. He used my daughter..." He gulped and tried not to look at the lifeless form of Amrita. "To get blood-supplies."

"You mean Daffy?" Phaedra frowned. She hadn't yet noticed the dead child.

"No." Harry shook his head, and screwed up all his courage to look at the tiny body on the floor, Wormtail's stunned form half-covering it. "My other daughter. One that I never... never mentioned to you."

Phaedra didn't know what to say, how to react - her husband had another daughter... and by the look of her, this girl must have been born at least two years before their Daphne... And... by the look of her, she wasn't merely frozen in time, like the others. She looked... "Dead...?"

Harry hung his head. "Yes, Phaedra, dead."

"He killed her?" George pointed at Voldemort.

"No," whispered Harry. "I did."

Even the buzzing of a fly could have been heard in the silence that issued now. Draco, Phaedra, George, Jason and both Papafotius were gaping at the young wizard as though he had suddenly sprouted two additional heads. This was... impossible. They couldn't believe their ears, they must have heard wrong! Harry... Harry Potter, killing his own child?

It was Phaedra who first regained her voice. "W...why?"

"Because of him." Harry gave Voldemort a look that suggested he regarded the Dark Lord as a particularly disgusting piece of dirt. "Had I... had I not killed her... he might have managed to flee with her... and he would have got another dose of her blood... and then another... he would have continued using her... she deserved a better life than that... and he deserved a worse life than that. Now he got it. He's run out of his magical powers... and he no longer can replenish them."

All six of them stared at Voldemort, breathless.

"You mean that... he no longer has... any powers?" George stammered, as though he didn't believe the words he was uttering.

"Yeah."

"See? I'm harmless," hissed Voldemort. "I no longer can hurt any of you... but don't forget that I've hurt your families, I've hurt you, and I would have continued hurting you all if I had had the chance!"

"Honestly, Tom, what are you playing at?" Draco folded his arms. As he saw the Dark Lord's mouth twitch, he added: "Oh, already forgotten your old name, haven't you?"

"You filthy little blood-traitor, you!" growled Voldemort. "You abomination of the name of pure-blood wizard! You..."

"You ask what he's playing at?" interjected Harry. "It's obvious, isn't it? He wants to provoke you to kill him. But it's no use."

"Of course it's no use." Shrugged young Malfoy. "I wouldn't dirty my hands with killing him, would I? It isn't worth the trouble. He can't harm anyone, after all."

Phaedra nodded her agreement.

Voldemort's eyes widened with fear. Surely these people, these people whom he hadn't caused anything but pain and suffering, weren't going to leave him alive? No... no, no, noooo! He couldn't live without his powers! He couldn't live like a common Muggle! He couldn't live like the scum that he'd always detested! He couldn't live like his damned father!!!

"Kill me... I sent Nagini after your father, Weasley! His guts were hanging out, blood flooding everything... I tried to kill him! Then you... one of my Death Eaters almost killed you at Potter's memorial! I..."

However, George gave him a defiant look and shook his head.

Desperately, Voldemort turned to Leto. "I tortured your brother! I would have gladly seen him die! Is this nothing for you, girl?"

Hugging Spiro to herself, Leto pursed her lips. "He's alive, and all I can say is that I'm sorry for you."

"Sorry?" shouted the Dark Lord. "No one's entitled to feel sorry for me!!!" his nervous eyes shifted to Phaedra. "You hear me, girl? I used your baby, and I would have used her again and again, I would have spilt her blood to satisfy my needs!"

Phaedra regarded him with narrowed eyes, then spat at the floor.

In his last desperation Voldemort turned to Harry.

"And you? You, Harry? I killed your father! Then I killed your mother! I would have killed you, too if I had managed to! I ruined your life, Harry! I gave you nightmares for years, then I used your as a mere stud to breed on my daughter! I blackmailed you, I made you flee with your shame, I mistreated your precious little daughter! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, HARRY? KILL ME!"

"I wouldn't kill you even if I could," young Potter said, his emerald green eyes meeting Voldemort's reddish-grey ones. The Dark Lord's eyes no longer seemed ruby-red... they had lost their brilliance and were now closer to grey. "But I can't. Neither can they," he gestured at the others. "Your greatest wish has been granted. You're immortal, Voldemort."

"W...what?" whispered the Dark Lord, clutching at the wall for support, for he felt he'd die on the spot. Then again, Potter was saying he couldn't die... "You're... you're joking, Harry?"

"I can assure you I'm not. While I was in the Underworld, I was contemplating how to vanquish you... and I came to realise that killing you was not the right option. You needed to be punished. You needed to suffer... to expiate for all the evil you've done, for all the lives you've extinguished, for all the misery you put so many families into... I decided I'd be merciless. I killed my own daughter in cold blood..." His eyes narrowed but never left Voldemort's face. "My daughter who I loved. So why would I be merciful to you, who I hate? Linda helped me realise that what you most loved... actually, the only thing you ever loved, was power. So I decided to take it from you. I sacrificed my child to take it from you. And then, with the power I got from Hades himself, I made you immortal." His mouth tucked into a smirk - a satisfied, malicious, almost delighted smirk. "Sybill Trelawney was right, after all. You died at my hand, Voldemort; for the eternal life awaiting you will be worse than death... it will be no life at all. You're practically dead. I couldn't have killed you more."

"You're... you're lying!" rasped the Dark Lord. "This can't be... can't be true!"

Instead of replying, Harry pointed his wand at him: "Avada Kedavra!"

The green flash of lighting hit Voldemort, his body seemed to be engulfed in it for some seconds, tremors were running through it and he collapsed, but very noticeably continued breathing. With an ashen face he looked up at Harry - his expression revealed that he finally understood.

His greatest dream had come true: he was immortal.

Damn Harry Potter...

"Harry?" Phaedra was the first to speak, and her voice was wavering, "Is he... is he really...?"

"You've just seen it," her husband replied. "He's defeated. He's lost his powers, and now he's in our power. The Great Lord Voldemort is nothing more than a Muggle at the mercy of wizards. Doesn't it ring a bell, Tom?" he stared down at the cowering ex-wizard. "Didn't you look down at Muggles? You did. Didn't you torture them, kill them? You did. Did you show any kind of mercy to them? Oh no, you didn't. It's payback time, Tom."

"What do you want to do with him?" asked Draco.

"Me? Nothing," said Harry calmly. "We're going to bring him before the International Magical Court of Justice. They'll decide about his fate. But if they'll accept some advice from me, then I have an idea what to do with him."

Phaedra opened her mouth to ask 'what', but at that second the frozen people suddenly 'melted' - the Time Freezing Charm's effect had expired.

All of the unfrozen witches and wizards stared at the fallen Voldemort, unable to move - not because they were still frozen, but because the sight shocked them. Voldemort had already been crouching when they had been frozen, but then he still seemed to have some strength to fight. Now, however, he seemed lost. Vanquished.

Bellatrix pushed her way through the crowd and dropped to her knees next to Voldemort."Master! Master, speak to me!"

"Go away, Bella!" growled Voldemort.

"But... Master!"

"I said GO AWAY!"

Mrs Lestrange drew back a bit, her gaunt face radiating horror. "But..."

"Don't you see, Bella?" hissed the onetime Dark Lord, "Don't you see what I've become? I've become one of those... the filthy... the scum..."

"Oh, my Lord!" Her eyes filled with tears. "What have they done to you?"

Voldemort pressed his lips tightly together and looked away, not wanting - or not daring - to meet her eyes. This woman had always idolised him, he had been her master, her lord, her god... and now he was no one. He was one of those whom he'd hated and despised. "Save your skin, Bella," he whispered to her. "Go. You can't help me."

Bellatrix's crouching body shuddered with suppressed sobs. "I won't leave you, Master..."

"Don't be a fool, Bella! You don't want to serve a Muggle, do you?"

"A... M...Muggle?" stammered the female Death Eater.

Voldemort nodded. "I'm powerless, Bella..." He lifted his face to look at Harry, "Potter won."

"He... he did this to you?" gulped the woman, her hand gripping her wand so tightly with nervousness that it almost snapped.

"One of us had to win... he did. It's over, Bella."

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed and she blinked back her tears. Her face revealed pain, shock, hate, blood-thirst, madness... and love. Love for her Master. This love had been deep yet suppressed, but now it threatened to burst out of her... it made her forget about everything, all she saw was her Master - her helpless Master, her humiliated Master... She had been a strong woman, strong enough to keep her sanity throughout the years spent in Azkaban, strong enough to bear the hardships of the years spent in hiding with her Master... but not strong enough to bear losing him for good. Not strong enough to see him reduced to a human wreck, to a person she should feel disgust for and should trample on... into a Muggle... Her hand made contact with his face and she brushed her fingers lightly across it. Her tired grey eyes met even more tired reddish grey ones, and she knew she was lost. Without him, she was lost. Potter... Rage built up in her, wanting to erupt like a volcano... She forgot about the dozen people standing around, she forgot about Harry being invulnerable, she forgot about everything but her anger. "It's... not... over..." she hissed through gritted teeth, then, in the blink of an eye she turned around and shouted Avada Kedavra! at Harry.

Harry's body simply reflected the curse, like a polished mirror reflects the sunrays...

Bellatrix Lestrange's wand fell and rolled to his feet, stopping in front of them, like its owner's heart had stopped beating.

Harry's eyes were fixed on the woman's pallid face, her eyes staring onto the corridor's ceiling... he pointed his index-finger at her and her eyelids closed.

It was a weird feeling... A weird feeling to have defeated everyone he'd ever wanted to defeat, yet not feeling the victory, not feeling triumphant at all...

How long he had wanted to punish Bellatrix for killing Sirius, yet now that she was dead, and Harry didn't feel any different.

How long he had wanted to punish Voldemort for all the terrible things he'd done, yet now that he was defeated, Harry didn't feel that sort of exhilaration he had always imagined he'd be feeling.

His eyes shifted to the motionless heap that was Wormtail, lying over Amrita, as though he only wanted to protect her... but he didn't need to protect her from anything anymore, for she was dead.

It was a bittersweet victory - a victory achieved at the cost of an innocent child's life.

*Don't get all depressed* Linda's voice spoke up in his head, and he shuddered, for he had totally forgotten about her presence.

Easy for you to say, he replied.

Rodolphus Lestrange, who had just regained consciousness dropped to his knees next to his wife. "Bella! BELLA! Wake up, Bella!"

"My... Lord?" said Macnair in a small voice. "What... what happened?"

"It's over, Macnair," answered Voldemort matter-of-factly. "Give up."

"Noooo!" shouted Rodolphus and, releasing his dead wife, he jumped up, pointing his wand at Harry. "Potter! You're going to pay for this!"

"I don't advise you to try and curse me if you don't want it rebound on you," replied Harry calmly. "Lower your wand."

"Do as he says," hissed Voldemort. "They've won, Rodolphus."

"No they haven't! As long as we have you, My Lord..."

"Look at me, Rodolphus!" shouted Voldemort, as much as a feeble man like him could shout. "See what I've become! A wreck! A scum! A Muggle!"

"A... M... Muggle?" muttered Macnair, his eyes widening with fear. If everything that their Master was saying was true, then they were indeed lost. Then it was indeed over.

Game over.

With a great effort Voldemort hoisted himself up into standing position, leaning against the wall for support. Now that he was on the same eyelevel as his Death Eaters, his piercing eyes met his onetime servants' gazes... and even the stupidest of them, like Goyle, managed to understand what they saw in their Master's eyes: defeat. Surrender. Total annihilation.

With a clatter a wand hit the floor: Macnair's. Shortly it was followed by Goyle's, and that of a young wizard, Wayne's.

After about a minute only Rodolphus Lestrange was still gripping his wand, as though his life depended on it... but even he knew that his life couldn't be saved now. He, like all Death Eaters, was in this together with Voldemort, and if Voldemort went down, then so did they.

His glance fell upon his wife's pale face - his dead wife's face... the finality of it clenched at his heart... yet helped the truth sink in. With a sigh he also dropped his wand.

"Phaedra, Jason, Gaia, Iphicles," Nausika spoke up, "come with me, let's take care of the Death Eaters left in the library, they might wake up any second. Nessus, Pasiphae, triplets, stay here and help Harry with tying up these," she sent the present Death Eaters a nasty look.

"Yeah, right." Nodded Jason and headed towards the library from where smoke was still coming in small puffs. Phaedra cast one last glance over her shoulder at Harry, then followed the Chief-of-Circle and her brother into the library.

While Nessus and Pasiphae magically tied up Voldemort and the Death Eaters, the sirens collected their fallen wands, and Ginny stepped over to Harry, slipping her hand into his, not caring a bit that her husband was looking at her with narrowed eyes.

Feeling her warm hand slip into his, Harry turned to look at her. Ginny felt her heart sink as their gaze met, for there was nothing but sadness in his eyes. No triumph, no exultation... nothing, but pain. He looked away from her, pretending to be very interested in Fred and George helping the three pretty sirens lead the Death Eaters away. However, she wasn't fooled.

"Don't blame yourself," she said, squeezing his hand. "V...Voldemort's defeated..." this was the first time she had uttered the Dark Lord's name - she no longer had a reason to fear it. "You won... we won."

"Yes, we won, but at what price?" He jerked his hand out of hers, his eyes suddenly ablaze with fury. "I had to kill my own child for this, Ginny!"

"You...?" Her eyes widened. "I thought... I thought V... Voldemort did it..."

"No, Ginny," he sighed, running his hand through his messy black locks nervously, looking away from her again, "he was using her... as a blood-supply. She was providing him with his magical powers for years..."

"But... why did he need her blood?"

"Because..." He leant against the wall just like Voldemort had, for the impact of the events suddenly weighed him down. "...because he got involuntarily addicted to my blood after he returned in my fourth Hogwarts year... he made sure he'd get supplies of it, and when he ran out of it... he sent his daughter to me to... to conceive her..." He cast half a glance at Amrita's motionless body that was still covered by Wormtail's equally motionless one, then quickly looked away, as though the sight had burned him.

"Was he using Amy's blood to substitute for yours?" Blinked Ginny. Now it was starting to make sense... She had always wondered who that mysterious woman seducing Harry had been, and even when he'd told her, she still kept wondering why she had seduced him...

Now Ginny understood. Voldemort had been living through the child, living through Harry's blood.

"Did V... Voldemort run out of...?"

"Yeah." Harry nodded, still not meeting her eyes, but staring into the flames of a torch on the wall. "I had to make sure he'd totally run out of it, and when he got hold of Amrita, I feared he'd flee somehow and kidnap her again, and... continue living and wreaking havoc. I..." He turned around and stared directly into her serene, brown eyes. "I had to do it. There was no other way... for the blood of a dead person is no longer suitable for Voldemort's magical regeneration... Remember when I told you about the death of my daughter Daphne?"

She nodded. She still well remembered the cocky Harry dissolving into tears and trembling like a little, scared boy when he relived it for her ten months earlier.

"I became a murderer then, Ginny, but I didn't mind. Now I've murdered again... and this time I murdered my only child."

Draco opened his mouth to say 'you're quite wrong, she isn't your only child', but as Ginny suddenly moved closer to Harry and gathered him into her arms, he thought better of disturbing them. He'd tell them later... also, he doubted that even the news of his son being alive would make Potter any happier now - perhaps he wouldn't even be able to understand it, in his current state of mind.

So in a way totally uncharacteristic of him, Draco turned and left the embracing couple to themselves. The corridor turned a corner and he stopped there, looking back at them, and some sort of bittersweet feeling engulfed his heart. How he had been longing for Ginny's love for years, how he had fought to win her back, and now... he understood that he'd lost her forever... and he understood that Ginny had never even been his. She had always belonged to Harry Potter.

Time to move on, Malfoy, he told himself and rounded the corner, leaving the couple alone.

Harry did not know how long they had remained like that: lost in each other's arms, lost in their pain, lost in their love... He wished she'd never draw back, if only they could remain like this forever, to close out the cruelty of the outside world, to close out all noises, all disturbances, just... be in peace.

However, his wish wasn't granted, for suddenly a shaky little voice spoke up:

"Geroff, Wormie, you're heavy!"