The Battle for Peace

Chapter 10: The Final Battle Commences

Madam Pomfrey was levitating beds and hospital materials into the Great Hall. Lingering students were being ushered to the designated safety locations. The ones who were supposed to stay behind and help were anxious. The air was coated thick with tension. The battle was ready to be fought.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ashley were discussing things last-minute with the Order, who had arrived as soon as they heard the announcement from Dumbledore. After affirming what was to do be done, Sirius and Remus had gone off with Harry, while Snape and McGonagall headed to their positions themselves. Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebot were busy trying to call the Ministry. The other teachers and Order members went to do their own jobs, leaving Ron, Hermione, and Ashley alone with their headmaster. His eyes no longer held that sparkle; indeed, they showed true sorrow. Dumbledore seemed to show his true age as he spoke to the remaining three students. His eyes were glowing with determination and resolution.

"I love you children dearly," he began. "You have been through so much. Now is the time to put all your training and beliefs to work. Stand up for what we are all fighting for; I know you will do well. You know that there is a possibility that one or maybe all of you may die," at this the three of them glanced at each other, "but that is something you were aware of when this entire ordeal began. I only pray that everything turns out for the best." With that, the aged headmaster left his office, and those who remained shuddered at the thought that this may be the last time their beloved headmaster, or any one of them for that matter, will set foot in this office, on these grounds, this world. It was a scary thought.

"For the better, I suppose," Ron voiced. Hermione nodded, silent tears pouring down her face. Before Ron even considered comforting her, she angrily wiped her eyes and straightened her robes.

"If anything bad happens, I want you both to know," she faltered, her voice beginning to shake. "I want you both to know that I do love you, and Harry, and everyone, and enjoyed the time we spent." Ron frowned.

"Hermione, at least pretend we'll survive," he groaned. "Have a little faith. We might all survive for all we know. Don't automatically look at the dark side of things. We'll get out of this okay. We'll show them not to mess with us, won't we?" Ron tried to smile, further enhancing his valiant attempt at cheering Hermione up, but he found it did no good.

Hermione said nothing. She simply looked at Ron and Ashley before striding out of the room and down the revolving staircase. Ron was about to follow her when Ashley grabbed his arm.

"What about Harry? He's not going to..." Ron averted her gaze. What was he suppose to say? During Christmas break Harry had told Ron about the prophecy, expecting him to keep it secret. There were two ways in which the war could end, and only two: Harry would either kill Voldemort or die at his hands. Though hoping for the former, Ron knew that sometimes things didn't work out. But he wasn't going to place that knowledge upon Ashley.

"That depends greatly on Harry," he answered finally. Well, he thought to himself, it's mostly true. She nodded, though not totally convinced. Ron left, leaving her alone.

Out of the corner of her eye, through the window, she could see the battle being fought. She flinched as she saw that about ten bodies already lay on the ground. She half considered staying in the castle, perhaps to help Madam Pomfrey. But, she thought, even aiding with injuries didn't feel like enough. She simply had to get out there and help.

Now is not the time to ponder things, she admonished herself. If any of us dies, then, let it be.

Putting her life on the line was difficult, but when she remembered all the pain that Voldemort had caused her and her loved ones, especially Harry, she found it quite simple.

**

"DUCK!!!"

Neville, unaware that a curse was flying in his direction, ducked, and nearly fainted from shock when he saw that the spell had caused a tree to disintegrate. He muttered a silent "thank you" to whomever had warned him before resuming his attack.

Meanwhile, Harry was crouched by the greenhouses, Sirius and Remus guarding him. Harry was growing impatient; Sirius and Remus knew he wanted to fight, but felt it was best until he waited for the final confrontation with Voldemort. Harry didn't agree at all.

"I mean," he whispered, not giving up, his temper getting the best of him, "I took the blasted potion, I know what has to be done. Why do I have to bloody wait while everyone else fights?"

"Harry, would you keep it clean?" Remus admonished. Harry laughed humorlessly.

"Isn't it the wrong time to be lecturing me, Remus?" Harry asked bitterly. Sirius didn't even look at the two of them.

"If you two don't hush up we'll be found out," he hissed.

"Good," Harry uttered, crossing his arms. A sharp, piercing scream interrupted his thoughts. Harry, as discreetly as possible, looked for the source. It seemed that Nonya had gotten hold of the curse that made you relive horrible memories while putting you into a state of shock. She was shaking badly, as the fighting had drained her, and a deep scratch ran down her arm, bleeding profusely. But knowing Nonya, she wouldn't give up.

Harry searched the battlefield for his friends. He found most of them on the field (which was the Quidditch Pitch, mainly) and others in the Forbidden Forest. He turned and saw Ron and Hermione throwing as many jinxes, curses, and spells at all opposing Death Eaters. Ron's hair was on end and his clothes were slightly torn; Hermione's face was red, but she would not let up. Little by little, they managed to take down a group of 30.

All of a sudden, the scene before him seemed to freeze.

**

Severus and Minerva were hiding behind Greenhouse 5, waiting for their signal. They were in such a position that, if fired at, they could immediately leap into action. The two were quiet and still though, straining their ears. Minerva had placed special charms on certain objects, which appeared to onlookers as, well, the greenery, but really were listening devices. Through these they could hear the rest of the Order. They were ready for a change of plans if necessary. But the plan they originally had to stick to was a bit taxing on the Deputy Headmistress.

Minerva kept glancing uneasily at Severus. Didn't it worry him that this was the moment he was about to show his true colors, to the Dark Lord no less? Who knew what punishment lay ahead for the Potions Master. If he survived, that is.

She remembered him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. He was somewhat withdrawn from the others, even those from his own house. She took pity on him, especially when he was confronted by James Potter and his gang. They always did the worst they could--well, James and Sirius would; Remus and Pettigrew (here she almost growled at the memory of the traitor) would just stand there and watch it all.

When she learned that Severus had learned of Remus's secret--and in that way, no less--she began to fear that what she was waiting for would happen.

It didn't.

Severus, of course, tried so hard to tease the Marauders, never letting them forget that he finally had something over them. But he would go back to the sullen boy, the quiet boy with a secret fascination with the Dark Arts. He backed off when he realized their strong bond of friendship prevented him from really bothering them. Yet Minerva still worried. She was worried that he would wind up with Voldemort, at that time a whisper in conversations, the cause of scattered deaths and rousing suspicion. She somehow knew that the life he led before and during Hogwarts would draw him to the Dark Side. And eventually, it did.

She knew all this, and he wasn't even of her own house. She turned to look at him now, grown, in his late thirties, the hardships thrust upon him evident in the atmosphere surrounding him, not to mention his features.

Severus remained rooted to the spot, staring with disdain at the events before him. An indifferent expression was on his face. Inside, he was preparing himself for the task ahead of him. He was aware that his life was in jeopardy, but he was prepared to die for the cause.

Severus became aware of Minerva's nervous glances in his direction.

"What is it, Minerva?" he asked snappishly.

"Aren't you worried?" she inquired. He raised an eyebrow.

"You are?" he asked. She didn't reply, only stared at the scene in front of them, at their fighting pupils. Already there were casualties, and many were barely fortunate to be carried into the castle for care in the Great Hall. Minerva realized that it must be straining for Poppy to be there all alone, tending to what was steadily becoming hundreds of injured wizards and witches, with no help.

"Do you care at all about what happens to you?" she asked after a while, her voice somewhat her usual strict tone. Severus scoffed.

"If you mean to say that I'm worried about dying, I'm not. I am, sorry to say, in debt to Dumbledore, and if giving up my life is the only way to pay him back, then so be it. I'm not afraid of death. I welcome it. Anything is better than this life I've been leading." Minerva was silent. "Yes, maybe Albus thinks that teaching the students Potions is enough, but..." he trailed off, not wanting to divulge anymore.

"But..." Minerva mimicked, urging him to go on. She was shocked when he yelled at her.

"GO, MINERVA! NOW!!!"

Not wasting a second, Minerva got up from her position and ran to the center of the battle. She looked back only once to see Severus throwing curses and potions at their attackers. Minerva's stomach dropped.

Werewolves.

**

Dementors were descending upon them all, scaly, rotten hands outstretched. Some Ministry officials were collapsing, others just losing their ability to fight. Many of the students, mostly those who had gone to DA meetings and been a part of the Defense Club had tried to conjure Patronuses. Only a few succeeded, and even then it was not enough to deter the hundreds of looming figures ahead.

Ashley ran to the middle of the struggling students. She shouted the plan that Dumbledore urged her to carry out. Her voice was shaking, and blood was pouring down her leg.

"Let's try it altogether," she ordered. "Think of your happiest memory, just like Lupin said." They all closed their eyes, recalling moments of happiness, before this war had begun.

"When I say go, we do it! Ready? GO!" she bellowed. The sight that met her eyes made her mouth drop open.

All of their Patronuses had fused together, creating a blinding light that charged at the attacking Dementors. If one stared hard enough, one could see bits of everyone's Patronus. She saw her own, a large tiger. She also saw many other animals, including a stag. Harry's stag. She turned and saw that Harry was standing there, his wand in the air, a mad look in his eye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had been itching to get onto the field, instead of sitting and waiting. Stay until the final confrontation? Bollocks. He wasn't going to stand by while everything happened; what was the point of all that training, he thought, if I'm meant to sit and watch the clouds roll by? He was getting fidgety by the minute. If Remus and Sirius were going to stay there, he wasn't going to stop them.

"Harry, it would do you good to stop fidgeting," Lupin said tersely. Harry glared.

"I can't stay in one place for too long, Professor," Harry stated, hoping his point was clear.

"Harry, just because you are an important aspect to the outcome of this war doesn't mean you should foolishly throw yourself in danger," Lupin admonished.

"Don't you remember: danger throws itself upon me," Harry replied, looking for a means of escape.

"Would you two let up?" Sirius hissed. "We'll all be in the middle of it if you two don't shut your mouths." Lupin remained silent, and Harry did the same, though not without the occasional glare or exasperated glance at both Remus and Sirius.

Guardians or not, Harry brooded, they couldn't protect him. Inside, he chuckled. A little late for that, isn't it?

People were out there risking their lives. Forgive him if he always had to, as Hermione so eloquently put it, "play the hero." A bit hypocritical, he thought, as she's in the middle of it all, too, making sacrifices as well. It had become part of the Trio's routine, saving people. However indirectly, they always did.

He looked on and saw Ron and Hermione, fighting back to back. It wasn't one of the best positions, especially in the middle of a fight, but to each his own. Looking further he saw some of his other classmates throwing hexes and curses. He winced, seeing Dean Thomas and Luna Lovegood collapse. Some others levitated them toward the castle; looking closer Harry saw that Bill Weasley was among them.

A cold breeze made the hair on Harry's neck stand on end. He remembered that feeling all too well. A part of him welcomed it, because he knew that finally he would be able to get involved. All the same, he grew tense. Then it happened.

He felt dread fill his body, bad memories flooding his mind; he turned to see that the Dementors were making their way towards the fighters. Their hands were outstretched, almost drawing souls toward them. Struggling, Harry pushed aside the feelings that arose within him, blocked out the cold, and made his way to begin his part of the battle. Something inside of him stirred, and he felt the magic coursing through his veins. He was told by Dumbledore that this magic would help him do what he was set out to do.

For the first time in a long time, Harry's faith in Dumbledore was restored.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remus had immediately lunged for Harry, who had taken off. He was surprised to see that Sirius held him back. He was shocked beyond words to see the haunted, dead look Sirius had gained in Azkaban once again grace his features. Sirius motioned for him to resume his previous position, and told him to let Harry go.

Remus raised his eyebrows. "He's your godson. I was expecting that you would side with me." Sirius didn't look at him; he only stared straight ahead. He seemed to be thinking. Rare occurrence, Remus silently joked, yet remained quiet as Sirius began to speak.

"He has a very important position in this war. Dumbledore told me all about the prophecy," Sirius whispered, barely audible. Remus frowned.

"What?" he asked. Sirius sighed. When he turned to face Remus, there was a deep sadness in his eyes, the same sadness that was forever present in Harry's.

"He'll either die at Voldemort's hands or kill Voldemort. Either way, he has to fight. Plus, you know how much like James he is, Moony. He's not about to sit and let all of Hell break loose. Just let him go." Remus couldn't believe that Sirius, of all people, was telling him to let things be.

"But Sirius--"

"Remus," Sirius pleaded, "it's not in our hands anymore."

~~~~~~~~~~

Minerva was running in zigzags so as to avoid curses as best as she could. She had to duck, roll over, and practically fly to the field. She looked on with pride at seeing so many of her students strike down Death Eaters and the newly arrived army of Dementors. But her pride soon dissipated when she saw that more and more of them were being brought inside for medical attention.

She prayed that no more lives would be spared.

She prayed for victory.

She prayed for her own life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You can't expect us to go our separate ways, Harry."

"No bloody way! We made a promise a long time ago that we would fight side by side!"

"You're insane to think that you can do this on your own!"

Harry stood and barely listened to his friends' rants. Occasionally they would fire a curse at a nearby predator, but went right back to scolding him. Was it his fault that he wanted to fight alone? Besides, it was his job.

"You don't get it, do you? I'm supposed to fight him alone!" he bellowed. Ron, Hermione, and Ashley looked at him, bleeding and wounded.

"But who's to say we can't help you while you wait?" Ashley asked quietly. He looked at her. She had a scratch on the side of her face and a deep gash on her arm. Her pants were torn and she looked tired. Ron and Hermione were more or less in the same condition. No, that was enough sacrificing. When he opened his mouth to retort, Ashley scoffed. "If the next words out of your mouth are that you say so, I swear I'll hex you."

Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't turn us away, Harry. We're not letting that happen anymore." He sighed, knowing they would not relent. He started to walk. They followed.

The four of them stood in a circle, guarding each other. Realizing that this was not a great position, they separated, staying within proximity of each other. They fought as hard as they could, as best as they were trained for. Hexes, curses, and jinxes flew from their wands. At times they had to duck or push one another out of the way to avoid getting cursed. Harry, helping Ron attack a werewolf, was blind to a curse that hit his shoulder from behind, causing it to dislocate. It was only after Hermione performed a realigning spell that he continued on. Ron was suffering from a few broken ribs; he had been thrown down and attacked by hands and feet until Ashley threw the right spell. They all had burns somewhere on there bodies from curses that weren't for them but had managed to touch a part of them anyway.

Hope was evident in their stances and faces as they fought, but began to wear away as more and more of their friends and classmates were brought inside. At the price of bringing down all except what appeared to be only ten Death Eaters, they had probably lost hundreds of the people they knew. All that remained on the field were a few students from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and even some Slytherins (who were shunned from the rest of their House) from the school. The Order members still stood strong.

The remaining Death Eaters were strong and powerful; there was not a single rip in their clothing, not one speck of blood or sign of injury on them. Harry was about to throw one of the worst curses he had researched when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around, his scar beginning to burn as if flames licked his forehead, expecting to see Voldemort. Instead, he met the eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

"Come, Harry," he instructed. Ron, Ashley, and Hermione looked up with fear in their eyes. Hermione eyes glistened with tears. "It is time.