The Second War Ends

The Second War Ends

Part Two: Siege and Duel

Harry paused for a moment in the fireplace, waiting for the nausea to pass. He never could get used to the way that traveling by Floo Powder made him feel. As the flames died away and his vision swam back into focus, he saw the expectant faces of the group that had arrived only just before he did. Harry mentally braced himself and stepped from the hearth...into an eerie silence.

The sounds of battle that Harry had imagined a thousand times in his nightmares were distinctly absent. There were no shouts, no explosions, no cries of pain. If he hadn't known what was going on here, Harry would have sworn that nothing of any significance had transpired. As he walked toward the knot of people in the center of the Head's office, however, he became aware of a rather uncomfortable feeling across the surface of his skin. It was an odd tingling sensation, like when one's foot has gone numb from sitting on it the wrong way. It didn't really hurt, Harry thought, but he didn't like it and rubbed his arms reflexively.

"You'll get used to it," growled Moody as he appeared from the shadows by the door. "There's been a lot of powerful magic used here tonight. What you're feeling is the residual effect." The grizzled Auror stumped to the center of the room where everyone was standing and surveyed the group with his normal eye, while the magical one spun wildly in its socket.

"Let's get moving," Moody barked. He led the small band out of the office and up and down several hallways and flights of stairs, their collective footsteps echoing off the walls. All the while, the oppressive quiet prevailed. It was as if the castle had been deserted long ago and they were merely curiosity-seekers, exploring the ruins of a once noble place. Mad-Eye did not speak again until they reached the entrance to the hospital wing.

"This is where you will take your leave, Miss Granger," said Moody.

Hermione stopped short, looking a bit defensive. "I'm perfectly capable of fighting, Moody," she said, sounding insulted.

"I realize that," Moody said, glaring at her with both eyes. "I believe, however, that your talents would be better used helping to heal the others who were also perfectly capable of fighting." The Auror continued to stare at her for a moment before grasping the door and telling her, "This isn't going to be pretty, young lady. This was a very hard-fought battle. Do you think you're up to scratch?"

Hermione was taken aback briefly as the realization of what she was being asked to do sunk in. She recovered herself quickly, though, and strode purposefully toward the hospital wing door. "I'll be just fine," she stated defiantly.

As Moody opened the door, the silence that had been so pervasive was shattered by a cacophony of screams issuing from the hospital ward. Hermione was halted in her tracks by the force of the noise. The entire group peered through the doors to see a very distraught Madame Pomfrey running back and forth between beds dispensing potions and counter-curses as quickly as possible. She stopped suddenly when she realized the door was open and looked as though she might cry with relief at the sight of Hermione. "Quickly, Miss Granger! We've far too much to do for you to stand there gawking!" she cried.

Hermione continued to stare into the ward for a brief moment before whipping around to look at Harry and Ron with teary eyes. "If I see either of you two in here, you'll have a lot more than dark magic to worry about," she warned. Then without another word, she kissed Harry on the cheek, Ron tenderly on the mouth and disappeared into the madness of the hospital wing. As the door shut, the tumult ended immediately. Ron and Harry looked at Mad-Eye for an explanation.

"Soundproofing charm," he said simply as they all began walking again. "Not having to listen to the suffering of the wounded does wonders for morale. Come along, then, plenty more where that came from. Oh, and wands out from now on." Nobody needed telling twice. Six wands appeared in their owners' hands instantly and a palpable tension could now be felt among those that remained.

Moody led the rest of them down into the central part of the castle. As they passed Professor McGonagall's classroom, Harry glanced in to see that all of the desks and chairs were gone and were instead replaced by row upon row of tightly packed wooden boxes being tended by two wizards he had never seen. One didn't have to think too hard to realize that the boxes were coffins. A cold shiver ran through Harry's body as the scene passed from view.

At that moment, the full measure of Harry's importance in his world struck him. He was the only one who could finally put an end to this. This was no longer a mission of revenge for the death of his parents. Every one of the boxes in that classroom was someone's father or mother, sister or brother, husband, wife, or friend. Many more would probably be carried there from Hermione and Madame Pomfrey's hands before it was all over. Harry wondered how many places were hosting grim scenes such as this right now. The war had been raging for almost a year. How many coffins had been put in the ground? How many witches and wizards had been sent home broken and useless? Harry could not begin to imagine the scope of suffering this war had caused. He did know that he could make a difference. He had to. He had to defeat Voldemort...not because he'd killed Harry's parents, not because he'd killed Cedric, or any of the others. He had to defeat Voldemort because Harry fully realized that if he didn't, the killing would never end. Harry knew right then that he was not going to battle Voldemort for the memory of the dead...but for the hopes of the living.

As the company descended the last staircase and headed for the Great Hall, they were once again halted in their tracks, this time by the sickly-sweet smell of charred flesh. "Merlin's beard, Moody, what happened?" asked Arthur.

"The dragons got loose from their bindings," Moody replied. "Charlie and the rest of the keepers tried their level best to control them but they were not going to be contained. A fair few of our side were injured or worse. In the end, they all flew off, with the keepers hot on their trail. They served their purpose, though. The Dark Army didn't know which way to run once those beasts started raining fire down on their heads." Moody managed a smile of grim satisfaction before turning his attention to the twins.

"You two are to report to Flitwick and Robbins in the Great Hall. There have been some minor breaches of the castle's protective wards and they need quick repair in case Voldemort's got any other tricks up his sleeve." Fred and George nodded their understanding and took off quickly, pausing only to shake hands and wish Harry good luck. Harry dryly thought that luck could have taken a nice holiday in Monte Carlo for all the good it would do him tonight.

"Right," Moody continued. "Arthur, I'll need you and your lad there to accompany Tonks around the castle interior to make sure that we've caught all the breaches and haven't left any wounded behind. The grounds have been cleared of wounded and...well, we got as many of the rest as we could have hoped. We believe all of You-Know-Who's supporters are gone, but we need to be sure. "

Arthur nodded as Fred and George had done. Ron, however, hadn't moved a muscle. "I'm staying with Harry," he said simply. Harry turned to argue with Ron but his friend was not looking at him. He was, instead staring intently at Alastor Moody.

"Listen very carefully, my boy," Moody said slowly. " It's very noble of you to want to--"

"Fuck nobility," Ron spat. "I'm staying with Harry."

Harry nearly choked as the words came out of Ron's mouth. He'd never seen his friend so openly defiant of authority, especially in front of his father. Despite the fact that Harry knew Ron could not accompany him where he had to go, he felt a wave of gratitude wash over him, just for the fact that Ron had shown that he was willing to walk beside him on what might be his last day on Earth.

"Ron...listen, mate," Harry began. "You can't come with me. You know what the prophecy says. It has to be just him and me."

"I'm not going to fight Voldemort with you, Harry," Ron replied. "I'm just going to make sure you...get to the ball in one piece." A small, forced smile crept across Ron's face. "What do you say, Harry? One last Hogwarts adventure? Without Hermione around to harp on us, we might actually manage to get into some real trouble."

Harry grinned, despite the seriousness of their circumstances. "Yeah, alright," he said. "But what happens when my...er...date arrives?"

"I'll go to the hospital wing and help Hermione and Madame Pomfrey. Agreed?" he asked, looking at Moody and his father.

"Very well," Moody replied. Arthur nodded wordlessly and then suddenly embraced his youngest son. "I'm very proud of you," he choked. Arthur continued to look at his son for a moment before departing with Tonks back into the folds of Hogwarts Castle. Moody regarded the two young wizards briefly before speaking again.

"Well, Potter, the rest is up to you. As I've said, we believe the surviving members of the Dark Army have fled. The only ones left that we know of aren't going to be much of a threat. I suspect that Voldemort figured out that you weren't here tonight and has been patiently awaiting your arrival." The old Auror looked, for the first time that Harry could remember, as though he wasn't sure what should happen next.

"It's alright, Mad-Eye. I know what I need to do," Harry lied. "I'm sure you've got tons of stuff to take care of. Ron and I will be fine. I'll send him to the hospital wing straight away after...before it all starts again." Moody glared at Harry and then growled something that Harry couldn't make out. As he was walking way, he turned to Harry again. "Constant vigilance, Potter!" he bellowed and then stepped into the Great Hall.

As soon as the huge door to the Hall had closed, Harry grabbed Ron and made straight for the front entrance to the castle. "Come on," he said. "I'm getting an idea." The pair burst through the entrance and out onto the grounds, wands drawn and ready. The smell of burnt flesh was even stronger here, despite the wind. Both Ron and Harry had to fight the urge to be sick before venturing out further onto the grounds.

Twenty or so yards from the entrance, Harry stopped short and began peering closely into the darkness. Lumps that were once live humans dotted the ground, some of them still smoking. Ron made a noise in his throat but said nothing as Harry continued to scan back and forth. "Come on, come and get me, I'm right here," he whispered. "Harry, what are--" Ron began, but the words died on his lips as a wave of cold swept over them both.

From the shadows, just beyond the light from the torches in the castle, something was gliding slowly toward them. At first, Harry thought it was a lone Dementor and he steeled himself against the voices that were sure to invade his head. It was pain that poured into Harry's brain, though. His scar had erupted with searing heat and he knew that the thing gliding toward them was no Dementor. Harry mentally bit down against the pain in his skull and walked toward the approaching shape of Lord Voldemort, with Ron silently, but resolutely in tow.

Just as the thin, snake-like face of the Dark Lord became discernable a cold voice slithered through the air. "Harry Potter, you are either very brave or very foolish to venture out into the open. I daresay that you were searching for me." Voldemort and Harry had both come to a stop and were a mere fifteen feet apart. "Yeah, well, I knew no one else would be allowed to lay a finger on me, so, no worries," Harry shot back.

An evil grin spread across Voldemort's face as he heard Harry's sarcastic reply. "And what makes you so certain that I would not send one of my minions to dispatch you?"

"Two things," Harry replied, his voice still rich with defiance. "First, there's the small matter of the fact that we have to battle one another and only one another. So, sending one of your Death Eaters to finish me off would have violated the prophecy, wouldn't it? And secondly, I reckon you're just the type of egotistical bastard that couldn't stand the credit for killing me to go to anyone else."

Voldemort chuckled mirthlessly. "Such brave words, Harry. A true Gryffindor to the end, which, by the way will be very soon." The Dark Lord turned his red-eyed gaze to Ron. "Let's see if your dear young friend here is as good a Gryffindor." Voldemort flicked his wand casually to his right and there appeared an enormous black spider, its pincers clicking menacingly.

Ron took one step back, pointed his wand, and shouted "Avada Kedavra!" The advancing spider stopped instantly and fell over dead. Ron continued to look at the corpse of the giant arachnid, ensuring it was done for before stepping back to Harry's side. "You're going to have to do a little better than that," Ron said as off-handedly as he could muster.

"That's enough," Harry commanded. "We both know what has to happen. Let's get it over and done with."

"Very well, Mister Potter, if you insist," Voldemort replied.

"Not here," Harry said. "We'll finish this where it began...at the graveyard."

Voldemort chuckled coldly once again. "Oh you are one for drama, aren't you? But I wouldn't be a very good Lord if I did not occasionally oblige my subjects. As you wish, then, Harry. I shall see you there."

"Say hi to your dad for me," Harry spat at him.

Voldemort blanched at the mention of his father. "You'll pay for that, boy," he said and glided away silently toward the Forbidden Forest.

Ron and Harry stood in silence, not looking at one another. Ron then turned away from Harry and very quietly vomited onto the grass. Harry looked over and smiled again, despite the grave situation. He really hoped that he would live through this. He was really looking forward to growing up and growing old with Ron as his best mate.

Ron wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and groaned, "Why? Why is it always bloody spiders?"

Harry and Ron faced each other and were lost briefly for what to say. "Harry, listen mate, I, er, I just...I want you to know," Ron stammered, unsure of how to put his feelings into words.

"I know, Ron. You don't need to say anything," Harry replied awkwardly.

Ron then reached out and grabbed Harry, hugging him tightly. "Just come back, okay? I need you to come back. I couldn't handle Hermione without you there to defend me." Harry chuckled as Ron released him and stared at the ground. After a minute, Harry punched Ron lightly on the shoulder and said, "Well, better go, hadn't I? I'll, er...I'll see you later."

"Yeah," Ron replied weakly. "I'll see you later."

Harry turned and headed toward Hogsmeade village He had to get far enough away from Hogwarts to disapparate. With his wand at the ready, he slowly picked his way along the well-used road. The dragons that the Order had posted along the way had been brutally effective. Harry lost track of the number of charred corpses he saw. Additionally, there were several broken heaps that Harry surmised had been crushed by the rampaging beasts. By the time he found his way to the deserted main street of the village, Harry was nauseated and could not get the smell of burnt hair and seared flesh out of his nose. With a shuddering breath, he focused his mind on his destination and disapparated.

In the few seconds in took to get from Hogsmeade to Little Hangleton, Harry realized how stupid his idea had been. He'd thought only about getting Voldemort away from Hogwarts and his friends. Now, he was sure he was walking right into an ambush. Brilliant move, Harry thought in a voice that sounded too much like Hermione for comfort. Just before his feet came to rest on the soil in the graveyard, Harry hoped that luck hadn't quite finished packing yet.

Luck, being a lady, was apparently running late, for Harry landed exactly where he intended and found himself completely alone. For a moment, he thought that perhaps Voldemort hadn't come, until he heard the familiar whisper.

"Nice to see you again, Harry. Very impressive, apparating so precisely."

"Yeah, well, you know how I love to make an entrance."

"Yes, you always were one for attention, weren't you? We shall see how famous you become after your untimely demise. Avada Kedavra!"

Harry had been expecting this and rolled deftly to his right, avoiding the jet of green light. He sprung to his feet, pointed his own wand and shouted, "Crucio!" To Harry's complete amazement, the spell hit Voldemort right in the chest, causing him to drop to the ground, screaming. The effect lasted only a moment because Harry had been so surprised to have hit him in the first place that he'd lost his concentration. Voldemort vanished as soon as the spell was broken, reappearing several feet away and standing once more.

"You've been practicing, I see," whispered the serpentine voice of the Dark Lord.

"I needed some way to vent all that teen angst," Harry replied coldly.

"Indeed. I grow tired of your banter Mister Potter, goodbye."

Voldemort raised his wand again and Harry rolled again, this time to his left. As he regained his feet, he only had time to realize that he'd been fooled before the familiar and unbearable pain of the Cruciatus Curse shattered all other thought from his mind.

The relentless, pounding agony seemed to go on forever, to the point where Harry was dimly aware that he was begging for death. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it ceased. Harry fell forward on hands and knees and retched. Voldemort's icy laughter got Harry up on his feet and moving again. He scrambled behind a headstone for cover and sat there, panting.

"Tit for tat, Harry."

Concealed from Voldemort for a moment, Harry frantically searched his mind for a way to end this. Come on Professor Dumbledore, he thought desperately, I could really use an idea right now. And then, as though his deceased headmaster were standing next to him, something occurred to Harry and he knew what his next move had to be. Cautiously, Harry peeked over the top of the grave marker to see the burning eyes of Voldemort only a foot away. Harry raised his wand and shouted a stunning spell at the same time Voldemort cast yet another Killing Curse.

As had happened the first time he had dueled with Voldemort, the two spells intercepted one another. A deep, golden beam now connected the two wands. Harry felt his wand vibrating as had happened before. He clamped both hands down onto the wand, willing the connection not to be broken.

Harry circled around the headstone to face Voldemort. This maneuver had bought him some time, but didn't get him any closer to finishing the task at hand. Once more he silently called out for his mentor. Okay, Professor, now what? Harry and Voldemort were no more than a foot apart from one another and the vibration from Harry's wand was getting to be uncontrollable. Whatever was going to happen needed to happen fast. As Harry inched closer to his foe, the answer he had been waiting for nearly caused him to tumble headfirst into the dirt. Eyes blazing, Harry acted before the Dark Lord could do anything else.

Getting as close to Voldemort as he dared, Harry then did what few others would have done. He broke the connection between the two wands. The next instant seemed to go on for an eternity as Harry frantically screamed the word that would save countless lives.

'STUPEFY!'

With the connection broken and Voldemort unprepared for such a daring move on Harry's part, the spell hit him in the chest, knocking him off balance. Harry knew the spell probably wouldn't work to its full effect, but an instant was all he needed. He leapt forward, tearing the sword from its sheath. The blade sliced through the old leather like parchment. Harry dropped his wand and threw himself against the body of Voldemort, feeling the blade penetrate the Dark Lord's flesh.

Disbelief and pain registered on the face of the dark wizard. Harry did not have long to savor his victory, however. As the sword's tip exited its victim, hot, searing pain gripped Harry, causing him to fall back. He screamed, then vomited. This pain was worse even than the Cruciatus Curse. It was pain unlike anything Harry had ever felt. Harry knew that he had defeated Voldemort. He'd felt the tip of Gryffindor's sword pierce the Dark Lord's heart. But he was also quite certain that there was no way he'd live through this. All of the pain was coming from his scar, as was the blood pouring freely over his face. Harry beat his skull against the ground, begging for it to stop. He didn't care if he died now. He just wanted it all to be done. He knew he'd accomplished what he's needed to. Voldemort was done for. And then, quite suddenly, release found him, and Harry Potter knew no more.