Harry Potter and the Daoimear de Dán

Chapter Eleven: Once More Into The Breach, Dear Friends

Ron collected his galleon. Five days after Dumbledore was poisoned, Fred Weasley came sprinting into the Great Hall as everyone was tucking into lunch.

"Professor!" he called out, a little breathless. Harry and Hermione immediately shared a worried, understanding look.

"Fred?" asked McGonagall, rising from her seat beside the Headmaster.

"Fifty Death Eaters are at the gates. They've got a Manticore with them. And the dementors are with them."

"We're on it," said Remus Lupin in a sombre voice as he and his team got up and rushed out of the Hall, stuffing chocolate into their pockets. Panic began to build in the room.

"So it begins," said the weakened Dumbledore in a soft, sad voice. He looked up and addressed the Hall. "It seems that the war is now upon us. For those of you who will be fighting, you know what to do. For those of you who will not, you are to follow Madam Pince to a place in the Castle where you will be safe. Good luck to all of you."

The poison still kept Dumbledore very weak and he sank back into his chair.

The First, Second, Third and some of the Fourth years got up in scared silence and followed Madam Pince and Madam Pomfrey out of the Hall. As soon as they had gone, those left burst into action. They were all well versed in their jobs by now and did them with the minimum of fuss. Dumbledore murmured softly and every one of them was dressed in the purple colour of the Phoenician Army. The simple spell left him even more drained and after a moment Madam Pomfrey came back in to help him to safety.

The Diamond were the only people not rushing around. They were the calm at the eye of the storm, sitting together in almost unnatural serenity.

"Well, it looks like we're up at last," said Ron with a weak smile.

"Yes," said Hermione, her eyes not leaving Harry's face. Maura drained her glass and stood up.

"Come on then," she said, completely unruffled. "I mean, it's nice weather for it."

"Do you have to joke about it?" snapped Hermione.

"Come on Hermione," said Maura quite gently. "War is the most ludicrous thing there is."

"But people we care about might die."

"So, we should go and stop that from happening," replied Maura.

"Let's go," said Harry, the first thing he'd said since Fred came in. He stood up straight and tall, his face set in determination. He pulled Gryffindor's sword out of it's sheath and began striding out of the room. The other three paused for less than a second before following him outside.

***

Fred, only having been watching the gates, had underestimated the forces now attacking the school. Charlie and the dragon team were already high in the air above Hogwarts and seemed to be concentrating on a group just beyond the Forest. Remus and Arabella's team were already upon the Manticore but were having difficulty trying to fight the beast and the Death Eaters with it at the same time.

"All right," said Harry authoritatively. "We all know what we have to do."

"Where's Voldemort?" asked Ron, finally able to say the name.

"Doesn't matter. We'll fight up front. He'll show himself sooner or later," said Harry. "You two protect the Castle."

"We will," promised Hermione. Swarms of Death Eaters were heading up the grounds towards them.

"The wards are down," Harry realised sadly. "He must be here somewhere."

"Good luck everyone," said Maura, eyes alight. She then ran down to greet the oncoming Death Eaters. Harry paused for a moment.

"Aren't you going, Harry?" asked Hermione in a small voice. He grasped her by the shoulders and kissed her in a manner usually described as 'searing' in mushy romance novels. The kiss warmed her to the tips of her hair and the ends of her toes and made her acutely aware of what she'd been missing for months. She never wanted to leave the warm security of his arms and lips, she never wanted him to stop. After a moment, however, he pulled away.

"I do love you Hermione," he whispered. "Always have."

Then he flashed her a blindingly bright smile before heading off down the slope and into the fray.

Hermione watched dazedly as Harry ran down towards the Death Eaters. She blushed very slightly before smiling. The smile then broadened into a wide, bright grin.

"I love you too," she whispered. But now was not the time to dwell on such things and she forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.

***

The Death Eaters had originally thought that the Castle would be poorly defended. That was before hundreds of students, teachers and other people began pouring out of the Castle, Harry Potter at their head with a red head who looked particularly fierce. Fear began to creep into the hearts of the attacking Death Eaters.

"This must be a fashionable fight," cracked Maura. "It's drawn the finest people."(2)

Harry sniggered at that one. She then turned to him.

"Do we actually have a plan?" she asked as they walked purposefully towards the enemy.

"Uh... I was thinking we beat them up until they don't get up again," he said. Maura pondered this for a moment. She pulled her shield from its place on her back and strapped it to her arm. Then she unsheathed her sword.

"Works for me," she said with a smirk. She looked flushed with anticipation and excitement, now that the weeks and months of planning were at and end. It was what she was born for. Harry watched her for a moment before realising that he felt much the same way. There was something about going into battle that made exhilaration course through his veins, filling him with nervous energy. He felt faintly guilty for feeling excited about something which might get people hurt or killed, but he'd been waiting for this for so long. Waiting to destroy evil. Waiting, if he was honest, for revenge.

The Death Eaters fanned out across the field, wands out ready to attack. Harry wondered if they were waiting for some sort of signal to begin, but before he could ponder it further, Lucius Malfoy appeared behind them and shouted at them. The Death Eaters, who numbered at least three hundred men and women, charged at the purple-clad Phoenician Army. The Army spread out to each take on a Death Eater. The battle began in earnest as swords and wands clashed furiously.

"This is usually the point where we make smart remarks to show how fearless we are," breathed Maura as she dodged a curse. Harry swung his sword in the direction of a Death Eater.

"Do we have to? I'd really prefer to concentrate on not dying," he shouted back.

"Fair enough," she said, swinging her own sword at a Death Eater that Harry recognised as MacNair, the former Ministry executioner. And the battle raged on.

***

The battle was fierce on both sides. As time moved on the Phoenician Army's ranks began to break and Death Eaters were able to progress up the slopes towards the Castle. Hermione and Ron were called on now. Every scrap of training they had now came into play as they were forced to fight magically and physically. There was no opportunity for banter anywhere on the grounds of Hogwarts as the battle raged on and the grass became stained with blood.

Ron was tiring, he knew it. He had nutrition potions in his cloak, but he had no opportunity to stop and drink them. His arms ached and he wondered if shamans usually had to actually join in the fighting. He was shouting curses and hexes at anyone not wearing purple, turning and jumping around dodging everything thrown at him.

"Expell-" he stopped abruptly as he came face to face with Deanna Lynott.

"Expell-" she too was about to shout a curse. Both of them stopped as they realised their mistake. The battle was getting to them. Deanna looked as tired as Ron felt.

"We're on the same side," Ron reminded her with a grin. She stuck her tongue out at him before running off down the hill towards a group of Death Eaters. He allowed himself a second to take a breath before jumping back into the battle.

***

"Where the bloody Hell is he?" yelled Maura, stabbing a Death Eater more or less in the gut. She barely paused to remove her blade before turning to another foe.

"What, Voldemort?" Harry yelled back as he aimed a curse at a brunette Death Eater. "He'll be here. I'm sure he'd like us to be nice and knackered for when he turns up."

"Well, I hope he turns up soon. This is getting dull," she said, spinning around in an almost ballet-esque manner to dodge a Death Eater's knife.

"Oh, I'm sorry," shouted Harry as he hit a Death Eater in the face, breaking his nose which resulted in a fountain of blood covering Harry. "Are we keeping you from something more interesting?"

Maura just grinned as she casually dodged an Avada Kedavra. Harry allowed himself a second to watch her. She was fearless, he realised, as she ducked and dove in the fray. He had no such luxury, he realised as he too was forced to dodge more curses.

***

After almost two hours of frenzied fighting during which almost equal numbers of Death Eaters and Phoenicians fell, the Dark Mark could be seen hovering menacingly over the Forest. Harry saw it almost immediately.

"Maura!" he shouted. After dispatching another Death Eater, she turned to look.

"Time to go, is it?" she inquired. He nodded, pulling a tiny little broomstick from inside his cloak. With a quick spell, the broom grew into it's full size.

"Get on," he told her. She swung her leg over and grabbed onto his waist. The Firebolt shot up into the air above the fighting. He shot off some purple sparks with his wand: the signal that he and Maura were leaving the battle to find Voldemort.

"They're going!" Hermione shouted to anyone nearby. Her heartbeat was already racing enough from fighting, but there was still room for it to quicken as she watched Harry fly away. The whole battle seemed to pause for a second as everyone on both sides watched the two warriors fly towards the forest. But then the war was back on and there was no more room to think of Harry and Maura. Hermione was forced back against a wall as a Death Eater advanced on her. As she fumbled for her wand, the Death Eater crumbled to the floor in a heap. Ron was standing behind, wand smoking.

"All right, Hermione?" he asked with a roguish grin entirely out of keeping with their current situation.

"Fine Ron," she replied with an equally impish grin as she dispatched another Death Eater about to come behind Ron.

***

Harry steered the Firebolt through the sky as he and Maura searched for Voldemort. After a few minutes in which they were able to catch their breaths after the hectic battle below, Harry caught sight of a clearing he'd never noticed in all his flights over Hogwarts. Steering the broom closer, Harry's Quidditch trained eyes caught sight of a flicker. There, in the centre of the clearing, stood Lord Voldemort.

Harry set the broom down some distance away from the clearing, thinking quite irrationally that he didn't want Voldemort to destroy his beloved Firebolt. He and Maura readied their weapons and headed towards their combined destiny.

Harry had imagined this moment many times and although there were many variations, this was not one of them. It was so incredibly simple in the end. He and Maura just walked into the clearing where Voldemort was waiting for them. No fanfare, no fuss, just a good old face-off against bad like in so many Westerns.

"Ah, Mr Potter," hissed Voldemort. "We meet at last."

Harry snorted with derision. "We've met before."

"The Harry Potter I met before was a boy," Voldemort said with a particularly evil smile. He looked at Maura with extreme disdain. "Who are you, girl?"

"A friend."

"I don't need any more friends," said Voldemort. Maura smirked almost as wickedly as him.

"I didn't say I was yours."(1)

Voldemort laughed very slightly and Harry was suddenly reminded a little of the Bond movies Dudley and Vernon would watch at Christmas when he was young.

"This girl has spirit," said the Dark Lord. Maura retained her smirk.

"So I've been told," she said.

"I take it Mr Potter has nominated you as his spokeswoman?" asked Voldemort in a scathing tone.

"Not so much," she said, swinging her sword with almost careless precision. "I'm just here for some mindless violence."

"Ah," said Voldemort with understanding as he noticed the shield on her arm. "I was told that the Heir of Maeve had a big mouth."

"That's public knowledge," she returned quick as a flash. Harry had to admire her. He was shaking from anticipation and fear now that this was finally happening, yet Maura seemed as unflustered as always. Then he noticed that her shield arm was quivering very slightly. She wasn't fearless: she was just better than him at pretending to be.

"You've come to avenge Lily Evans' murder then, Muggle girl?" asked Voldemort. Maura just nodded. "It seems everyone wants to do that. I wonder what it was about her?"

"She was sweet, kind, generous, loving and beautiful. All things you know nothing about," answered Harry grimly.

"You really have grown up, Mr Potter."

"Well, I try."

"I'm told that the Mudblood had a lot to do with it," said Voldemort. Harry chose to take Maura's poker face philosophy.

"Yes. You could say that," he replied, making a mental note to kill Voldemort that bit more painfully for bringing Hermione into this.

"I'm bored. Can we fight now?" asked Maura.

***

Ron and Hermione met up on the outskirts of the Forest. Both looked shattered.

"The broom disappeared from sight five minutes ago," she puffed, out of breath from the battle. Ron nodded. They caught sight of a group of Death Eaters, including Lucius Malfoy, heading towards the Forest.

"We can't let them get to Harry and Maura," Hermione said firmly. "You know what Lily said."

"Yes. I was actually there, remember? But how do we stop them from crashing the party?"

"Well..." Hermione paused to think for a moment.

"Time is of the essence, Hermione."

"I know that!" she snapped. "Right... OK... We'll both transform. Nobody knows we're animagi. Wonder what Lucius will think when he comes face to face with an adult Bengal tiger?" Hermione smiled in a particularly wicked manner, and Ron returned it.

"On it. You'll be all right?"

"I'll be fine. I'll go and check on Harry and Maura-"

"Hermione, no."

"I'll be a phoenix. I won't interfere, I promise," she said before transforming into Flame and flying off.

"She's said that before," Ron muttered before transforming and bounding off in the direction of Lucius Malfoy.

***

"They must be around here somewhere," said Lucius Malfoy sternly. "I saw the Mark."

"The broom disappeared somewhere to the East of here, I'm sure sir," said Goyle, one of the students who had left school some time ago to join up with the Death Eaters.

"Shut up, Goyle," growled Malfoy. Goyle closed his mouth abruptly, nervous that he had displeased Malfoy Senior. The four other Death Eaters there smirked at the young Death Eater.

Just then, they heard a warning growl that could not possibly be human. From around a tree, a Bengal tiger slinked into view. It seemed to smile at them.

"What is that?" asked Lucius. The tiger walked towards them, and they all took two long steps backwards.

"It's... It's a tiger, sir," said Goyle. Lucius turned and hit him across the face.

"I know that, idiot boy. What is it doing here?"

They eyed the tiger warily, wondering if it intended to pounce or not. It remained perfectly still, staring at them rather beadily.

"What should we do, Malfoy?" asked one of the Death Eaters that the tiger didn't recognise.

"We need to get to Lord Voldemort. I don't want him to face Potter alone."

"Do you think that Potter can kill him?" asked Goyle. He received a glare from Malfoy in return.

"No. But I'd like to make sure it's impossible."

Now the tiger did pounce. It was fleet of foot and the Death Eaters were caught off guard. The tiger relied on pure instinct and quickly took out each of the Death Eaters. A voice in the back of its mind hoped that they were only incapacitated, not dead. Then he moved towards Malfoy. The tiger knocked Malfoy to the ground and his claws dug into the Death Eater's shoulders. Lucius Malfoy, flat on his back and entirely helpless, screamed in pain.

"I thought you were better with pain," someone called. Both Malfoy and the tiger looked up. A few metres away stood Draco Malfoy.

***

Hermione, as Flame flew above the trees, keeping close to the canopy of leaves for camouflage. She could smell burning wood nearby and quite suddenly came upon the clearing. Voldemort was stood in the centre of it and Harry and Maura were stood a few metres away from him.

"I'm bored. Can we fight now?" she heard Maura ask. Voldemort glared at her, his red eyes glowing. Flame moved closer to Harry and Maura, being careful to remain in the shadows of the trees.

"I refuse to fight you, girl. You are nothing."

"That's not what I've heard," said Harry with a reassuring smile for Maura. She just glared at Voldemort.

"I'm going to help kill you," she growled. "And I'm going to have fun doing it."

Voldemort laughed. It seemed quite a strange thing, to see this most evil of creatures laughing quite heartily. Maura smirked back at him, but Flame saw her hands begin to tremble a little.

Flame noticed Maura crumble somewhat. She was born to fight and Voldemort was questioning her validity to do just that. She recalled something she'd read: "Phoenix song is magical: it is reputed to increase the courage of the of the pure of heart and to strike fear into the hearts of the impure."

Flame wasn't sure it would work completely, not knowing if Voldemort even had a heart anymore. But it was worth a shot. She sang a single note loud enough for them to hear her. Harry and Maura exchanged a worried look but both noticeably stood a little taller. For his part, Voldemort looked rather rattled by it.

"Where is the phoenix?" he hissed. "Dumbledore's little pet has got in my way before."

"It's not Fawkes," said Harry with a snicker. "I promise you that." From yet another pocket in his robes, he drew out the quill Hermione had given him. The red was a spot of colour in the smoky clearing. Voldemort now looked a little fearful as he saw the red and purple of the feather.

"A friend gave this to me, you know," Harry said in a conversational tone.

"There is a descendant of that... fool druid at Hogwarts?" hissed Voldemort.

"Have we found someone that you're scared of?" asked Maura with a smile. "A druid? Please."

"Shut up, girl!"

"He must be scared, Harry. Shut up really isn't a classic retort."

"Enough," Voldemort demanded. "I want to kill you both."

"Well, we want to kill you," said Maura, waving her sword again. "So that works out just fine."

She suddenly darted forward, catching Voldemort's shoulder with the tip of her blade. In retaliation, he drew out his wand.

"No wands," said Harry, twisting his own wand in his hand. "Remember what happened last time?"

"Very well. We shall do this in the old-fashioned way," Voldemort said with a nod, replacing his wand with a silver sword. He stepped forward, as did Harry.

"No. Me first," said Maura with a long stride forwards. She sneered at Voldemort. "I always wanted to be Errol Flynn." She swung her sword again, catching the sun with it. The light flickered brightly in Voldemort's face and he recoiled very slightly. She snorted with laughter.

"I always wanted to do that, an' all," she said, laughing.

"I wonder, girl, if your jokes disguise a lack of fighting ability?"

"Step up and find out, mate."

The two swords met with an almost deafening crash. The sword fight began in earnest, silver flashes of light all that really remained visible as they gained speed. Voldemort was a skilled swordsman, but Maura was quicker on her feet. She was quite a skilled 'swords-chick' as she usually put it, but relied more on instinct and raw talent than her opponent. Harry watched, ready to enter the duel at any time.

***

"Draco? What are you doing here?" Lucius sneered. Then he remembered his predicament and smiled at his son. He was clearly not used to smiling, because it seemed more like an evil grimace than a smile. "Why don't you give me a hand, son?"

"Son?" Draco spat with unusual emotion in his voice and face. "Sod off."

"Draco! What has got into you? What filthy lies has your mother been filling your head with?" Lucius, despite still being pinned by a rather curious tiger, chose to inject as much venom into his words as possible. Draco dawdled over to his father, a blank look on his face.

"Don't ever talk about her again," he said in a low, controlled voice. "Don't even think about her."

Draco's grey eyes met his father's identical eyes for a moment.

"It is our choices who make us who we are," he said with a hint of a smirk on his lips. Then, quite suddenly, he swung his leg back and kicked Lucius in the stomach. The elder Malfoy groaned out in both pain and surprise.

"Guess what I chose?" Draco asked, the smirk now full on his face. Lucius looked at his son with a mixture of emotions.

"You've become a soft fool," he managed to say through blood and pain. Draco kicked him again, genuine malice etched onto his face.

"Not at all. But the moment you destroyed my mother's life, you became my enemy." Draco kicked his father again. Lucius's head lolled as he fell into unconsciousness. Draco leaned over and grabbed his father's wand. He snapped it into two pieces with ease. He then pointed his own wand, muttered and soon enough, Lucius' hands and feet were bound together with thick rope. Draco eyed the tiger warily.

"Want to rip me to pieces too?" he asked it. The tiger smiled and shook its head. "Good. Just checking."

Then Draco Malfoy, his revenge taken and his choices made, headed back to the battle.

***

Flame had flown away from the clearing at the first sign of fisticuffs. She'd promised not to interfere and wasn't sure she'd be able to resist if she watched them fight. She didn't transform back, instead choosing to fly over the battlefield to reconnoitre.

It was quite a sorry scene. Perhaps half the people fighting for the Phoenician Army had fallen in one way or another and the Death Eaters had made a good advance towards the castle. Those purple-clad soldiers still standing looked tired and dispirited. She could see Ginny Weasley only just manage to take care of a tall, mean looking Death Eater with a curse. Two dragons had returned to their Quidditch pitch base, clearly injured badly. Only Charlie and Romana on Augustine were even still in the air, although even the dragon looked exhausted. But from her position high in the air, what could Flame do?

Flame sang. Recalling something from the near past, she sang a sweet, soaring song that many of the soldiers recognised from a film they'd seen in the Great Hall. Lara's Theme floated through the air of Hogwarts and filled the Phoenicians with warmth and strength. She soared through the sky singing, hoping that Harry and Maura could hear her too.

Then suddenly, somewhere deep inside her heart, she felt Harry cry out.

***

After taking care of Malfoy Senior, Ron in Ron form emerged from the forest to continue fighting. He was surprised to see how much ground the Death Eaters had covered in the time he'd been in the forest. Without a second's pause, he brandished his wand and ran straight at the nearest Death Eater. Then he heard phoenix song in the air. He smiled to himself as the Death Eater recoiled at the sound.

"Problem, dear?" he asked the short female Death Eater before quickly dispatching her with a quick Stupefy. He then looked up into the air, searching for a red bird.

"Nice one, Hermione!" he muttered with a grin.

Then suddenly, somewhere deep inside his heart, he felt Harry cry out.

***

The contest between Maura and Voldemort had been raging for quite a while now. They were more or less equally matched as sword fighters and neither gave an inch. Harry had never seen Voldemort like this, forced into physical combat against an opponent who would not back down. He had only ever seen Voldemort take on people he knew he could defeat easily with an Avada Kedavra. Like Cedric Diggory. He shook his head. Now was not the time to linger on such thoughts.

Maura cried out in pain as Voldemort's sword found her right arm. A nasty looking gash began to bleed and stain her shirt red. She stumbled back and dropped the sword. Without hesitation, Harry darted forward to finally take on his enemy.

"Harry Potter," said Voldemort, showing only a few hints of fatigue. "Finally, we fight."

"Yes. Can we skip your 'We meet again Mr Bond' stuff?" snapped Harry.

"Very well Mr Potter. I didn't think you'd be in a rush to meet me."

"I want to get on with my life, thank you," Harry said as the fight began. He was glad of the hours Sirius had spent with him teaching him the finer points of swordplay, because Voldemort was really quite good at this.

"Maura!" Harry shouted as he blocked Voldemort's sword. "Are you all right?"

"Triffic, mate!" she said through gritted teeth. Her arm was bleeding furiously and she had slumped against a tree.

"Are you at Hogwarts or not? You've got potions haven't you?" he shouted as he ducked Voldemort's blade.

Maura cursed loudly at herself before pulling out a couple of vials. She drank the first, a healing potion, which didn't heal the wound completely but it stopped the bleeding. Then she downed one of Hermione's strawberry flavoured nutrition potions.

"I'll be ready in a minute, Harry!" she called to him. Harry had picked up the Sword of Ulster and now fought with a sword in each hand. He looked every bit the dashing hero. Maura may have dreamed of being Errol Flynn, but Harry seemed to have achieved it. He seemed to be dancing rather than fighting. If Maura had natural instinct, Harry seemed to have the blood of generations of sword-fighters running through his veins. She realised that her role was to tire Voldemort, even to irritate him with smart remarks, but not to kill him. Regardless of destiny or rules, Harry was the only one who could do it.

Then suddenly, somewhere deep inside her heart, she felt Harry cry out. A second later, she heard him yell in pain with her own ears.

"Harry?" she shouted, looking up at him. Voldemort's sword had caught him right across the chest and an ugly red cut trailed from one side to the other. He was still upright, still fighting, but now it was an effort. This was not going well.

***

"Harry?" called Hermione. Harry looked up. Where did that come from?

"Harry?" shouted Ron.

"Harry, it's the binding, silly!" Hermione said in an exasperated tone.

"Is this all in my head?"

"Of course it is," she replied.

"So if start talking to you out loud, Voldemort will think I've gone mad?"

"Yes."

"Why are you in my head?" he asked.

"Because, Boy Wonder, we want to win the bloody war," another voice joined them.

"Nice of you to join us, Maura," said Ron dryly.

"This is very weird," she said.

"You're all in my head!" shouted Harry. Voldemort's sword struck dangerously close to the hilt of his sword. "And you're really distracting!"

"Oh we're very sorry," said Maura dryly. "All we're trying to do is help you."

"How?"

"Power transference, Boy Wonder. Am I right, Hermione?"

"How does it work?" he asked. They all heard Hermione audibly sigh.

"Don't you people ever read? Or even listen to me?" she asked. They each laughed.

"Not when we have you to do it all for us," chirped Ron. The sound of Hermione snorting with disgust was heard by all three.

"Right then. All of you just concentrate. Harry, you just have to focus on fighting Voldemort. Don't think about being hurt. Ron, Maura, we have to concentrate on sending power through the link. All right?"

"How do we do that?" asked Ron.

"Just think it, Ron," said Hermione in a distinctly exasperated voice. "Ready?"

Harry concentrated all his energies on fighting Voldemort. Immediately, he felt better, although he knew nothing had happened yet. Then quite slowly, he felt strength surging into him from an indefinable place somewhere within him. He felt like he had a little of Hermione's brains, Ron's courage and loyalty, Maura's fearless strength and whatever he had combined with the power they had borrowed. The two swords of Gryffindor and Ulster became rather more like liquid mercury extensions of his arms, glinting in the light as they swept through the air.

Voldemort was taken truly by surprise at Harry's resurgence. He still had no idea about the binding and hadn't expected Harry to make a comeback. Harry quickly took control of the fight and soon the great Dark Lord Voldemort, the curse of the magical community for nearly thirty years, was sword-less.

Harry didn't stop there. After kicking Voldemort's sword away, he dropped his own swords. He then threw a powerful punch. Although Voldemort appeared to have no nose, whatever he still had definitely broke under the force of Harry's fist. The formerly invincible Voldemort fell to the ground. He had enough energy left to kick out at Harry. He was unbalanced but didn't fall down.

Maura had pulled herself up onto her feet, although she looked pale from blood loss. Harry mused quickly that he probably looked much the same.

"Ready to dispatch the red-eyed git?" she asked. He nodded grimly.

"Let's get this over with," he replied. They took each other's hands, but before they could do anything else, Voldemort was back on his feet.

"Did you really think that you could defeat me so easily, boy?"

"Oh, of course not. We've had a bit of help," said Harry breezily. Voldemort held up his wand and shot a curse at Harry. He barely managed to dodge it and went to retaliate.

"Sod it," growled Maura, pulling her dagger out of her boot before launching herself at Voldemort. She took him down and a brief scuffle ensued before they broke apart.

"Infuriating girl," hissed Voldemort, blood pouring from a wound somewhere on his face.

"You're not the first person to say that," she said before jabbing at him with her dagger. Then she stumbled as he got in a punch.

Not missing a beat, Harry ran at Voldemort as Maura had done, and the force knocked them both to the ground. Harry began punching Voldemort over and over, not even noticing the cuts on his hands from doing so. Strength and anger surged through him.

"You... killed... my mum... and dad... I'm... going to kill you," he yelled. By this point, Voldemort seemed to be truly defeated. Harry continued inflicting pain on the fallen Dark Lord until Maura yanked him away.

"Let's do this properly," she said quite gently. She took his hand and closed her eyes. He did the same.

"Do you remember what we were meant to say?" she asked with a grin. Harry held out his free hand, upon which he'd scrawled several words meant as memory aids.

"Are you ready then?" came Hermione's voice. "It's still quite hairy out here."

"I don't like this mind-reading thing. I thought they said we couldn't do that," said Maura.

"Just for now when we need it. It's not actually mind-reading, strictly speaking, I read about it in..."

"Not the time, Hermione," said Ron as he entered the conversation.

"Right then," Harry said to Maura.

"The diamond is ready. We have fought the darkness and now wish to banish it from this world," they spoke together, Hermione and Ron's voices echoing in their heads from far away.

"We want to invoke the powers of old and defeat the darkness once and for all."

"Heart," said Harry.

"Soul," added Ron.

"Head," continued Hermione.

"And Spirit," finished Maura. They felt power surge through them like nothing before, not even like it had been during the ritual. A bright gold light like the one they'd seen form the diamond at the ritual emanated from Maura and Harry's linked hands. It shot out towards Voldemort.

Voldemort was not easily defeated. He had recovered during the pause and had even managed to get to his feet, although he looked decidedly shaky on them and not at all like an all-powerful Lord of Darkness. When he saw the gold light coming towards him, he finally gave up. Perhaps he knew exactly what was happening, perhaps he didn't, but the former Tom Riddle knew when he was beaten. The light filled the clearing, shooting out in great, bright beams to the skies and all around them until both Maura and Harry had to shield their eyes with their free hands.

The light remained for minutes, and it was clear that Voldemort had been destroyed. Maura and Harry felt the borrowed power leave them through the light until they felt weak and tired. Their injuries suddenly seemed more painful, and they fell to the floor. Maura was the first to pass out, although Harry wasn't far behind. In unconsciousness, their hands remained clasped together.

Hermione and Ron felt the power begin to leave them as the light became visible from the Forest. Although they felt pain more keenly now, neither passed out. Everyone stopped to look at the sight, all somehow knowing exactly what it meant. The remaining Death Eaters gave up the ghost and either allowed themselves to be stunned while some just surrendered. It had been just as well. The reinforcements sent by the Phoenicians were stretched thin, and had the Death Eaters not given in so easily, the battle could have easily raged for hours more.

***

There loomed an eerie stillness over Hogwarts as the dust and smoke cleared. Nobody was quite sure what had happened in those last, terrifying moments of the battle. Which meant that nobody was quite sure what had happened to those in the forest. People began to move towards the castle with the injured. Ron watched with a heavy heart as he watched the clean-up begin.

"Sorry about earlier," he heard a voice cut through his thoughts. He turned to see Deanna Lynott standing there. She had blood smeared across her face, neck and shirt and seemed to be favouring her left leg.

"Are you all right?" he asked, looking rather concerned.

"I think so. I just... just came to apologise for nearly attacking you earlier."

"It's all right. Same to you."

"Well, we don't seem to have got off to much of a start."

"No, that's true. We can start again if you like," he said, forgetting that he had been looking for Hermione.

"OK. I'm Deanna Lynott. Nice to meet you."

"Ron Weasley. And this has been bugging me since you turned up: why were you at Beauxbatons if you're English?"

"My mother teaches there. I actually left last year but stayed on as an Ancient Runes assistant and unofficial English teacher. Don't have clue what I'm meant to do now."

"Are you going back to France?"

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet." Deanna smiled at him before wincing. "I meant to ask: where's the hospital wing?"

"Ah, right... Go in through the main doors, go left then take... tell you what, I'll show you."

"Thanks." She smiled at him again. This time, he smiled back.

***

Uneasiness settled in the pit of Hermione's stomach as she sank onto the slightly charred, muddy grass. Was Harry alive or dead? Had he won, truly won? She remembered Maura's description of fighting the Old Enemy, but instead of George Richards flying through the air to heroic martyrdom, in her mind it was Harry.

Ron came and sat beside her, fresh from escorting Deanna Lynott to the hospital wing. Judging from the looks of him, the Death Eaters he'd been battling had done quite a number on him.

"You look terrible," she commented.

"I thought shamans got to miss the painful bits?" he asked wryly, rubbing a bruise on his shoulder.

"Let me," she said gently. She waved her wand over his cuts and bruises and, using her newfound druidic skills, healed him.

"You should be able to help with healing, Ron," she said.

"I can only do little things," he said.

"Yes, but look. Madam Pomfrey won't be able to cope with all of this. We should help."

Examining his limbs, Ron whistled.

"You can do more than simple stuff," he said appreciatively.

"Sometimes. It's not my specialty even at the best of times and now... my focus is all..."

"On Harry," Ron guessed. "Mine too."

"Yes," she said. Together they sat in exhausted, worried silence. A fire had broken out and was now raging through the Forest and Hermione suspected that one of the dragons had missed a target slightly. The fire made the air thick with smoke. Then, out of the murky black depths, a tall, powerful man came striding through the smoke, swinging Godric Gryffindor's sword quite casually.

Hermione's eyes went as wide as saucers. This couldn't possibly be her Harry! His black hair was matted with blood, sweat and mud. A slow but sure trickle of blood was making its way down his face from somewhere above his left eye while his shirt was soaked with blood from his chest wound. The clothes he'd been wearing were so tattered that Hermione wondered if Harry and Voldemort had actually reached the hair-pulling, rolling around on the floor stage of battle.

But in that moment, Harry Potter looked every inch the strapping hero of which legends are made. The uncertainties of the unloved boy in the cupboard, the guilt of the Boy Who Lived while his parents died, the pressure of being the boy who would kill Voldemort... It was all gone.

In place of these were self-assurance, relief and a million other things Hermione couldn't fathom. She was dimly aware of Maura emerging from the smoke behind her, the Ulster Sword slung over her shoulder, but her whole focus was on Harry. He walked purposefully through the crowds that had gathered but he paid them no heed. If her entire focus was him, so it appeared that his was her. He didn't stop walking until he was inches away from her. He stopped abruptly and let Gryffindor's sword fall to the ground. He paused only for a second before gathering her into his tired arms and giving her such a kiss that everyone who saw them there remembered that kiss: the heroic warrior knight triumphant and his fair druidess maiden on the slope, the Castle behind them and victory all around.

***

To Be Continued.................

Author's Note 19th August 2006: After various things happening in fandom, I went back and read, and realised that I did not cite the two 'guess the quote' things except in the Chapter 12 review forum. Given that people in fandom don't think such things are good enough these days (and perhaps they are right), I shall now put them here. After all, it's not like anyone reads it but for the sake of clarity- I don't like stealing other people's lines. It's been a long time since I had to footnote anything, so if I don't do it to strict Harvard rules, I honestly don't care:

1:

He looked at Maura with extreme disdain. "Who are you, girl?"

"A friend."

"I don't need any more friends," said Voldemort. Maura smirked almost as wickedly as him.

"I didn't say I was yours."

This is taken almost exactly from the first exchange between Angel and Buffy in Buffy The Vampire Slayer, episode one 'Welcome To The Hellmouth which was originally aired in the USA 10^th March 1997, quite a long time before I saw it for the first time.

Buffy: Who are you?
Angel: Let's just say I'm a friend.
Buffy: Yeah, well, maybe I don't want a friend.
Angel: I didn't say I was yours.

For more information, see: http://www.buffyguide.com

2. "This must be a fashionable fight," cracked Maura. "It's drawn the finest people."

This is taken, again, almost exactly from a moment in that loose translator of history, Braveheart, where the Irish bloke is talking before a battle. I haven't seen it in years, but it was released in May 1995. I'd tell you the producers and distributors, but it'd be longer than my chapter.

Stephen: The Almighty says this must be a fashionable fight. It's drawn the finest people.

So that is, to the best of my knowledge and belief, the stuff I've borrowed from someone else. If you care at all that these weren't cited properly until now, may I respectfully suggest that you should step away from the computer and go outside into the fresh air for awhile? Plagiarism is a serious thing, but there's mistakes, oversights and then there's actually outright copying and stealing.

If you do feel you've found proof of my 'plagiarising' someone else, do let me know via email or whatever other contact details are available. I don't bite much these days and believe me or don't, it will have been a mistake or an oversight or me just unconsciously copying after watching the Porridge episode 'A Night In' too many times. Let's all of us act like grown ups about it, shall we?