Reconstruction of a Death Eater

Warnings: Character death, blood and gore.

Lord Voldemort looked around at his decrepit surroundings and grimaced now there was no one else to see but the fat rat. After he had annihilated Potter and hung Dumbledore up in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, he would never return to this pitiable ruin again. He turned and surveyed the throne he had created from the living rock, formed and shaped by the Elementals that were his to command. It sat on a marble dais three steps high, enough space for Nagini to sleep comfortably under it, and beside it was a table holding the things he deemed as important. There was enough room at his feet for a slave or two to crouch, ready to tend to his every whim. He wondered if he should keep the Granger girl and the Weasley boy as slaves. It would be amusing to watch them writhe in pain as he tortured their fellow members of the Idiots Club.

He held his metal staff in his left hand as he caressed the moulded stone with the other then beckoned Wormtail imperiously, pointing to the dais at his feet. Wormtail crept into place, clutching the carved stone leg of the throne and closing his eyes fearfully as the Lord used the whole dais as a portkey to transport them to the bounds of Hogwarts.

The rolling gardens and pleasant walks were churned and torn, the battle destroying the usual serenity of the view. The accompanying storm whipped up the rags of the dead, flinging grass and dust into the air to mingle with the fumes and smoke and obscure the vision of those left alive to fight. It was a glorious scene as the huge marble edifice sailed grandly over the earth, crushing anything not fast enough to get out of its way, living or dead.

Harry looked around for Ron and Hermione as he and the headmaster made their way out of the cloistered courtyard and down toward the main sweep of the grounds. It didn't seem right that they were not at his sides as they ever had been, but in a way it was liberating. Still, he didn't have to worry about their safety, just his own, which wasn't that important at this time. Behind him the headmaster and headmistress walked sedately at his shoulders, strong and wise and reassuring in some way. He was vaguely aware of Snape slipping away to his left as they exited the courtyard, but his whole attention was taken up by the impressive and overblown floating monument that had brought Lord Voldemort to the battle.

"Well, well, little Harry Potter, so we meet again. And you have brought your little friends with you to play, how nice."

The voice hadn't changed, still the sibilant hiss underpinned with malice and threat. It had haunted Harry's nightmares for years after the graveyard incident, and it was just as back-bone-shivering now. He swallowed thickly. "I see you brought your friends to play too," he replied, hoping the bravado didn't show in his voice.

Nagini raised her head and studied the young snake before her master's throne. He spoke the language and he tasted like her master as she carefully uncoiled and moved to the edge of the steps. How intriguing. She stopped and stared at the boy when he said something interesting. "You think I am beautiful?" she questioned.

"Yes, you are," Harry replied startled, his attention leaving Tom and focusing on the snake. "I've never seen a snake as big as you, or as well marked."

"Thank you. I am going to find the snake man, he is always interesting," she remarked.

"Snake man?"

"Severus - what a lovely name - he belongs to me now, master said I could have him." Ignoring her master's impatience and the boy's questions, the huge snake swiftly wound her way through the grass seeking the one who always held her attention, the snake man.

She found him on the lawn behind the throne, no mask this time and involved in a battle with one of her master's toys who immediately ran away when she came into sight. Severus didn't move as she slowly coiled around him feet. Such a shame he didn't talk, she would have liked to speak to him as she raised her head high enough to look into his eyes.

Severus could not move as the huge snake wound him in her coils, hypnotised in some way, he supposed. It was often that way when the big snake chose a victim. However, when they had discussed the possibility of Nagini being a Horcrux they had planned for as many contingencies as they could think of. He had prepared for this eventuality which seemed the most likely scenario; a potion in his pocket with a top he could remove by wandless magic, even in his present state. He wrapped his mind around the vial's contents and carefully translocated the potion into the snake's stomach and bloodstream. Severus had practised the manoeuvre many times on dead snakes, also on mock-ups the same size as Nagini and he was fairly confident he could target her digestive system even if he was being slowly crushed by her silken coils. It wasn't a dangerous potion, it was a sleeping potion which didn't register as hostile, but it was strong enough and specific enough to put a snake the size of Nagini to sleep and then gently ease her into death in a matter of five minutes. All he had to do was make sure she didn't crush his ribs in the meantime.

The rhythmic movements of the coils were slowing; the pressure had not increased but it had not decreased either when Severus managed to turn his head a fraction to his right and spot someone sauntering over to ward him.

"Well, well, Severus Snape." The fat rat came into view. "Got yourself a bit of a problem there, have you?" he snickered, eyeing the snake wrapped man with intense hatred.

Severus couldn't spare the breath to exchange repartee with the idiot although he wouldn't lower himself at the best of times anyway. He simply concentrated on having enough room to keep the breath coming into his lungs. Wormtail walked a circle around him, poking at the odd bit of flesh that was exposed through the coils much to Snape's annoyance. The rat reached up and ran his silver hand over the long, sallow cheek then pinched like a maiden aunt, a slightly hysterical chuckle breaking out when he realised there would be no retaliation for his temerity.

"Oh, this is fun! The nasty, great, slimy git brought low by a big snake, how ironic, the snake is trapped and killed by a snake! I can do anything I like, can't I? Can I push you over? Yes, I can!" Suiting action to words, the fat little wizard pushed them over, the whole coil thudding into the dirt.

Snape was furious and Nagini not much better as her coils were jolted loose just a little. She had been dreaming of warm sun and a full belly when the intrusion happened, and now she was being crushed on one side, she adjusted her coils to a more comfortable fit and Snape managed to get a bit more breathing room for which he was thankful. The snake was not relaxing as quickly as he had hoped.

Pettigrew pulled out his wand and poked Snape's nose tentatively, casting a hint of a stinging hex which made the greasy git hiss a breath. Peter's smile widened over his bucked teeth as he grew bolder, poking at Snape's eyes. He wondered if he could actually poke one out without retaliation when a low snarl hit his ears. Moving very slowly, he looked to his left and saw a huge grey and amber wolf standing there with stiff legs and a snarl lifting its lips. He swallowed thickly as he backed away from his chosen victim, raising his silver hand threateningly. "Don't come near me or I'll burn you," he warned in wavering tones, but the wolf still approached with a stiff-legged gait that spelled menace. The threat of silver didn't deter him in the slightest.

Never very courageous, the rat broke and tried to run, but the werewolf was on him, going for his elbow and crunching his jaws down on the joint. The forearm with its deadly silver hand parted ways, and Pettigrew screamed a high-pitched wail of pure terror and agony. Rolling, he scrabbled in the dirt on his backside, trying to ward away the menace which had not stopped advancing on him until it stood over him in stiff-legged fury. Staring into the deadly amber eyes, Peter suddenly knew!

"Remus? Moony, is that you? Come on, you know me, it's Peter Pettigrew, your friend, you remember? This is just Snivillus, no one important and you aren't like this, you are too kind to really hurt me, aren't you?" he babbled, trying to change even as he spoke. He felt his body begin to twist with the animagus transformation, but the werewolf was ready for that. Catching his rapidly shrinking form up in his jaws, the lycanthrope tossed his head a little to move the body to the back molars then bit down hard, crushing the rat to death in a second. It spat out the remains as it began to revert to its human form, mangled and torn but still recognisable as Peter Pettigrew.

The wolf approached the bundled snake and carefully surveyed the man's predicament. Snape stared at the wolf for a moment before averting his eyes, not seeing the flash of hurt that showed for a second. "Well, don't just stand there, put your jaws to use and snap her bloody neck," Severus huffed, gesturing with his chin.

Moony bent further and delicately took the thinner width below the snake's head in his front teeth and gave it a nip. The snake twitched, tightening his coils and making Severus groan so the wolf backed away. "Just bloody do it!" Severus snapped, gasped and the wolf approached again.

As he bite down, severing the snake's head neatly, a hex came out of nowhere, slamming into the wolf's side and sending it flying across the churned grass to crash into an ornamental stone pot. He didn't move again. Severus moaned as the snake began to writhe and tighten her coils in her death throes. Another face loomed up then laughed and disappeared, leaving Severus where he was, lying in the embrace of a huge snake with little hope of getting away. At least she was dead, the soul fragment she had carried dissipating harmlessly and undetectable to Tom. Now he was vulnerable, mortal and killable! Severus prayed that Potter would triumph soon!

~~*~~

Harry faced the madman across a stretch of churned lawn, trying to keep a lid on his fear. This was not the graveyard at night, he was not alone, he had powerful allies and he knew he could control the monster's wand with his... Harry's eyes widened when he realised that Lord Voldemort was not holding a wand but a metal rod that glinted in the oddly tinted light.

"Did you think I would not learn from my past mistakes?" the Dark Lord asked in amusement when Harry's eyes widened in shock. "If a tool betrays you then cast it aside, don't you know that yet, little boy? But tell me, Albus Dumbledore, how is the child to cast aside his own mind?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, Tom," Albus said pleasantly in the face of his gloating.

"Oh, come now, who has been giving the child Occlumency lessons in an effort to keep me out of his mind? What? Did you think I hadn't noticed how hard he has been trying? Such a good little student, and so futile. I'm sure you suspected or perhaps even knew deep in your mind that there is no such person as Harry Potter, he died at the age of eighteen months, killed by a nasty old dark curse. There is only Lord Voldemort and his greatest creation, his living, breathing Horcrux, the first and only one of its kind!"

"That's not true!" McGonagall protested before Harry or Albus could say a word.

"Stupid woman, of course it's true, look at their faces! They thought it was Nagini but no, it is their precious Boy Who Lived to Be a Perfect Container for Lord Voldemort's Soul!" Tom gloated. "If I want my soul fragment back, all I have to do is this!"

Harry screamed as his mind was ripped open and everything he had tried to suppress over the years came flooding to the forefront. Faces loomed and leered, Quirrell burning to his touch, the black figure dripping unicorn blood as it swooped at him. Snape looming over him threatening expulsion, caught in the Devil's Snare, facing the Basilisk and killing a diary, facing a dragon and stealing her egg. The darkness of the graveyard and the agony of having his arm pierced against his will. His blood falling into the cauldron one drop at a time, betraying him, betraying the Light, bringing the devil back to life. He fell to his knees, clutching his scar as it ripped a fiery path across his brow, his wand held uselessly in his fist.

"So you see, little boy, I made you and you made me," Tom said gently as he rose and stepped to the edge of his dais. "Unfortunately, it is now time to consolidate myself and reunite my soul, which means there is no room left for you, Harry Potter. To release my fragment, you must die in torture and agony but don't worry, this won't hurt above exquisite."

He bent and scooped up a small plush toy and held it up with a maniacal grin, twisting one of its legs and laughing hugely. The laughter cut off abruptly when there was no reaction apart from a jaw dropping puzzlement from the boy in front of him. Damn that blasted Snape, he had failed in his given task to make the toy suitable for voodoo or sympathetic magic. Damn him to the pits of Hell! Voldemort tore the toy in half and tossed it on the ground with a cry of fury that echoed over the landscape and caused the distant trees to tremble.

In the infirmary wing, Goyle junior, although stunned and immobilised, began to writhe despite the bindings on him. One leg bent and snapped like a pistol shot even though no one approached him. His back bowed and bent at horrendous angles, then he was literally torn in two and slammed though the air spraying blood and gore over the shocked audience who hurried to see what the commotion was about. Shaking her head in shock, Molly quickly cast more protection spells over the wards and cleaned away the evidence of the young man's demise.

Raising the metal staff, Lord Voldemort screamed out to the Elements he had harnessed, a chain of fire flashing as the thunder sounded, and the lightening flashed, rain came from nowhere to pound on them, the wind whipping into a very localised tornado, something outlined in dust and smoke in the centre. Albus drew a deeply shocked breath as the Elemental being writhed and moved under the fierce whip wielded by the skeletal figure who laughed maniacally as it drove the chained being down onto the kneeling boy. Both Albus and Minerva tried to hold the creature made of elements back from its target, but it could not be withstood when it was driven by such a malicious force. The tornado's funnel swept over the young man and engulfed him completely.

Harry screamed as the winds tore at him, the grit scoured his exposed skin and the rain soaked him. Even the earth jiggled under his knees making him fall forward and only just catch his weight on his hands. Mouth stretched wide, he tried to snatch a breath of air in the whirling maelstrom, but the wind tore it from his lungs and denied a replacement lungful until his head swam and black spots danced in front of his eyes. He didn't want to die like a landed fish, gasping and gulping in the dirt, blood and tears dripping from his chin and causing splatter marks in the dirt. One... two... three... four...

The world grew still.

Gasping, Harry sat back on his haunches, raising his head to stare around in shock. The air still tore itself to pieces a few feet from his nose, but he was engulfed in a still, warm pocket inside the storm. There were eyes in the whirlwind, watching him unblinkingly as he gasped and sniffed, regaining his bearings and his breath.

"You share the blood of the monster, who are you?" a voice of air and thunder asked.

"I'm Harry, Harry Potter," he replied quickly. He swallowed when a feeling of complete disgust washed over him, making him feel particularly stupid, as if he was still in Potions class. "Erm, yeah... Harry."

The creature in the storm surrounded him, tendrils sliding into his very being to open his molecules and examine the fluids of his life and tissues. He was destroyed, examined and reconstructed in an instant, the wind's fingers and the rain's soothing touch bringing him back after his total destruction. There was no way to describe the experience except perhaps that he was remade anew, whole and completely refreshed as the eyes in the storm became thoughtful.

"You are duality, you are the monster..."

"No! I'm not like him!" Harry protested bitterly, fearfully.

"... but you are more complex and deeper, a four-fold being rather than a single element much like ourselves."

"Oh. I -- I don't want to be like him, I don't want to be connected to him in any way, he is evil!"

"What will you give?" the storm asked cunningly.

"I would give my life if it would get rid of him for all time and keep my people safe from his evil," Harry said softly with complete conviction.

Again, he was examined, his life exposed and incidents replayed almost curiously. "Even for this bulbous one, you would give up your life?" The Elemental forced a memory to the forefront of the youth's mind.

Harry remembered Dudley pushing him down the stairs, taking his toys, snatching his letters, then he remembered Dudley cringing from the Dementors and how he had driven them away. "Yes, even so, and despite the wrongs the boy did you. You are much more complex than the monster. Very well, we will help you remove this blight on your people and on your person, but there will be a price. Are you willing to pay?"

"Yes."

"Summon his wand and we will guide you."

~~*~~

Both Albus and Minerva cast Unforgivables at Tom, but he merely laughed as they bounced away, one taking out a stray Death Eater in passing. The localised storm between the two warring parties grew fiercer and despair bit at the observers as the Dark Lord took untold delight in the development. He struck at both Albus and Minerva, crowing with delight as the older couple were forced to stagger backwards, away from his throne, away from the storm shrouded boy.

The winds grew stronger, the storm tighter, the lightening strikes faster and brighter as raw magic was pulled from the landscape and concentrated into the whirling winds until even Tom began to lose his maniacal cheerfulness as the storm seemed to pull further into itself. Now the spectators could see the outline of Harry Potter embedded in the tornado's centre, on his feet, his eyes flashing as the wind whipped his robes around him and tossed his hair wildly.

Slowly, he raised his wand until it was shoulder high, his left hand open and fingers curled. "Accio Tom's wand!" he roared, and Tom screamed, clutching at his metal staff with both hands.

Something stirred on the table by his throne and a very familiar length of holly and phoenix feathers flew to Harry's waiting hand. Tom screeched in fury and roared a hex, using the lightening whip to slash his smaller opponent to no effect. Harry continued to raise both wands above his head, bringing the tips into contact and focussing the blasts of lightening from the storm. As he slowly moved his hands together, the two wands seemed to meld and combine to a slightly thicker single unit, then Harry smiled.

"Avada Kedavra anima extinctum!"

The beam of green fire that left Harry's wand was joined by a twin beam of the green soul fragment from his eyes. The roiling black clouds above sent a single blast of lightening that was channelled through the boy's wand, the wind and the wild magic following the path forged by the lightening as it zeroed in on Tom's frozen figure. His metal staff acted like a lightening rod, the green fire bathing him in lurid light before it sank into his very skin then exploded.

To the Muggleborns it looked like an atomic mushroom cloud, to the wizards it was a roiling green ball of fire and heat that singed hair and eyebrows, scorched exposed skin and set the grass alight with its fury. Harry Potter held the power until the soul was completely destroyed, his mouth wide, and his eyes staring until all the green had been leached from his irises leaving them white and pale. Even the famous scar shed its colour and angry redness, becoming pale and old and silvery in those terrible few moments of absolute annihilation of a soul. Then, as the storm dissipated and the clouds were torn to tatters by the dropping wind, he sank bonelessly to the ground. Albus rushed forward and felt for a pulse, finding it thin and thready and almost undetectable.

The silence after the storm's roar was deafening until a few cries of the wounded and the rustle of a March breeze sent a stray leaf fragment skittering over the blasted cobbles. The stillness of the aftermath held for a perfect second, then the last of the Death Eaters realised they had lost and began to flee. Aurors shook off the stillness and tried to chase them down, but arrows arced out of the Forbidden Forest and not many were left alive for the Aurors to collect. The centaurs were determined that none of the Death Eaters should escape to ever begin this human madness again.

Others stooped around the battlefield, checking to make sure those lying down were actually dead, the few left alive were quickly bound and a portkey placed on their chests. The Ministry had learned from the Death Eaters and had instant portkeys that transported straight to Azkaban where the offender could be held until a trial date was set.

Moving slowly through the blood-soaked field, Scrimgeour came upon a welcome sight: Severus Snape trying to get free of a dead snake. "It must be my lucky day," he commented with a twisted sneer as he crouched down beside the spy and laid a piece of stone on his chest. "Finally, I get to put you where you belong, you filthy animal, and no one will ever know what happened to you!"

As Snape opened his mouth to protest, the portkey activated and Scrimgeour gave a jaunty little wave as he stood up and dusted his knees, a smugly satisfied laugh breaking out.

"That was not very nice, Auror Scrimgeour," a cultured feminine voice said from behind him, and he whipped around, trying to bring his wand to bear, but the beautiful blonde in the dramatic black outfit merely smiled at his efforts as her lips shaped the fatal words. The world turned green for Rufus Scrimgeour even as his mind protested the unfairness.

Narcissa Malfoy contemplated the Auror and the dead snake before she sighed. Her world was over, her husband dead and her son a blood traitor. Her Lord and lover had failed in his bid for power, and she was very sure her privileged existence was about to get very ugly. Rather than face those consequences she was going to do what every good Lady did in times like these. Taking out a vial of silvery liquid, especially brewed by Severus Snape, she gave a toast to absent friends and upended it into her mouth. She had about half an hour before the poison worked, long enough to dispose of some incriminating evidence at home. She Disapparated.