Harry Potter and the Elements of Valor

Chapter Fourteen - Your Life Flashes Before You

Harry did not need bad news, not to start this particular day. He shut the door to his dormitory room as quietly as possible. Then he tapped the keyhole with his wand, locking Ginny in. Under the circumstances, he wanted her safely out of the way. She would hate him for doing it... but he hoped he'd be back in a few hours time, to endure her wrath. That was the best possible outcome... that he was able to return.

On his way down to the common room, he re-read the note the owl had delivered. As he passed the sixth-year boys' dormitory, he nearly ran into Ron, backing out of the room and fully dressed too.

"Couldn't sleep any more," Ron muttered, looking at Harry. "Did you sleep well?"

Harry nodded but did not look directly at Ron. In fact, as the previous night's events flooded back into his head, he waged a war with himself to suppress them. Thinking about Ginny and what they had done, what they had promised each other, was far too big for him to sort out just now. He would save it for a future time. Still his face felt hot as he swallowed those thoughts. Instead, he held out the note to Ron.

"It's from Lupin," said Harry.

Ron squinted in the dim light of the candles that illuminated the spiral staircase, and read it aloud:

H,

The errand in London went well. Thirty of the items were brought back; ten more had to be disposed of. CM and eight others will be stopping by Poppy Pomfrey on the way back.

L

"No one who intercepted this would figure it out," said Ron, sounding impressed. "Appears the Order got about forty Death Eaters..."

"Yes," said Harry. "But...Mac must be hurt... and some others too. Let's get to the hospital wing. They'll be there soon," said Harry, taking back the note and stuffing it into his pocket as he strode toward the portrait hole, Ron at his heels.

"What time is it, do you think?" asked Harry who was not wearing a watch.

Ron checked his as they made their way along the dimly lit corridor. "Four-thirty."

As they rounded the corner on to the hallway that held the hospital wing, they saw Professor Dumbledore hobbling in the same direction.

"Harry, you are up very early. Did you sleep properly?" asked Dumbledore in a wheezy voice as he leaned heavily on his cane.

Harry wished everyone would stop asking him that particular question. He shrugged.

Dumbledore surveyed him critically. "Sometimes, a good short sleep is better than a long, restless one." Then the headmaster placed a hand on his shoulder and sighed. "I understand, Harry, that Conner MacNessa was injured in the raid."

"I know sir. Lupin sent me an owl," said Harry anxiously. "We shouldn't have sent Mac to do this."

Dumbledore steadied himself on his cane, "You know as well as I that we had to break down Voldemort's strength before you faced him. From what Arthur just told me, the raid was a great success, mostly do to Conner taking the lead. He got a group of Aurors deep into the dungeon. Unfortunately, the potion began to wear off, and a Death Eater hit him with a curse. Conner wished to do his part, Harry. Everyone who knows what this duel means wants to do what they can."

Dumbledore began to shuffle forward again. Ron and Harry exchanged looks. Harry had come to respect Mac, and regard him as a friend and mentor. He didn't like to think that another adult he cared about might lose his life in this conflict. He hurried forward to assist Dumbledore.

As they reached the doors of the hospital wing, and pulled them open, a bedraggled looking group of wizards moving quickly along the corridor toward them, whispering amongst themselves. They looked rough. Several were sporting cuts and spell damage. Some were holding handkerchiefs to their faces or arms, moping up bloody wounds.

Lupin was bringing up the rear with Charlie Weasley. Charlie was making a stretcher float in front of him while Lupin watched the man lying on it, closely. Harry saw it was Mac, white-faced and obviously in pain. Madam Pomfrey came bustling out into the corridor and immediately began shouting orders. With practiced efficiency, she soon had the various injuries under control, installing some of the men in beds and quickly curing some others. Mac had been placed in a small, private room near her office. She kept going in and out of this room with a concerned look on her face, and an air of fixed determination.

The matron insisted that Harry, Ron and the others remain by the door and out of her way whilst she worked.

Charlie finally came out of Mac's room to stand with the group. "Don't know what curse they got him with...did you see Remus?"

"He was down by the time I reached him," said Lupin. "I'm guessing he got hit by several curses at once. He looks pretty bad. It was a nightmare in that dungeon for the first few minutes...spells flying everywhere, and Conner was in the thick of it."

"But, Madam Pomfrey will sort him out," said Harry firmly, not wanting to be overridden.

"I... don't know," said Charlie shaking his head. "We'll have to wait and see. He's not a young man, you know."

Harry turned to Lupin who was standing silently by. "Was Snape there? Did you get him?"

"No Harry, I never saw him, and I watched all the captives being brought out."

"He's as big a threat as his master and he's still playing at being loyal to Voldemort," said Harry heatedly.

"He'll be finished when Voldemort is defeated," Lupin said in a whisper.

"If he's caught," replied Harry. In some ways, he was more interested in capturing Snape than fighting Voldemort. Snape had tormented him his entire time at school. He was a liar and had betrayed the Order...people who had trusted him.

As they waited for Madam Pomfrey's update on the wounded, Ron and then Lupin tried to send Harry off for some breakfast. He could not leave, though, no more than he could eat. He'd eat later...maybe...if he survived.

Dumbledore was finally allowed in to see Mac and about five minutes later, he appeared and signaled Harry over to him. "I'm sorry Harry, but there is a chance Conner may not...well...It will take a few days before we know the outcome. He is quite weak. I know how close you have become, I am sure you'd like to see him while he is still awake."

Harry had to ask the question that was niggling his brain. "Professor...Mac told me he didn't want to be involved in any more battles. He said he had lost his nerve and wouldn't help the Order...yet he volunteered."

"I suspect that your bravery gave Conner new hope. He was, and is, a good man at heart, and a brave one."

Harry hardly knew what to say. He proceeded to the small room where he found Mac lying in a bed. Madam Pomfrey was just leaving as he entered. "He needs his rest. I've just given him a sleeping draught, so don't stay too long," she warned, but her voice cracked and Harry was sure he saw tears in her eyes.

Approaching the bed, he touched the hand of his teacher. Mac smiled slightly but appeared to be in pain. "How are you?" asked Harry. He had no idea what else to say.

"Oh, young Harry...I'm probably dying," said MacNessa with a grunt. "At least that's what the tactful Madam Pomfrey seems to be trying to tell me." Mac broke into a coughing fit at the end of this sentence. Harry quickly pressed a goblet of water to his lips. "But... it was worth it," said Mac after a moment. He shifted uncomfortably in his bed. "We killed and captured a load of those slimy, detestable, warts on a troll's bum."

Harry couldn't help but smile.

Mac winced in pain as though a knife had been suddenly stuck in him. Then he relaxed a bit again. "Harry, I was wrong about not getting involved. You remember that, boy."

"I..." said Harry completely at a loss.

"Harry, my boy, I don't know what it is about you...You are special. It shows in here," he poked Harry on the forehead, "and in here," and he poked Harry over his heart. Mac's hand dropped on to his chest, and he took a wheezy breath, closing his eyes. In a barely audible voice, he whispered, "I wish I could be there...when you kill him."

Mac lay still, finally overcome by the sleeping potion. Harry wiped his sleeve across his eyes and left the room.

Taking a deep steadying breath, he approached Dumbledore, Lupin and the others. Today was about his battle with Voldemort and he must keep his focus for the next few hours. After that he could worry, he told himself.

"How many Order members do we have here?" asked Harry before anyone could query him or say anything else.

Lupin eyed him shrewdly. "We only have four down. The others, even those who are injured slightly are insisting on fighting. Most of the Aurors are here as well. We were able to cover up the fact that Conner had traded places with Bagman. They still think they are following the instructions of the Minister. That means we should have seventy to eighty, all tolled."

"That's good," said Harry absently. "That's fine. Who's going to organize them? Kingsley?"

Lupin nodded.

"All right then, I'm going down for some breakfast," he said. He didn't really want to eat, but he did want to keep moving, for it felt better than standing and waiting; watching people watch him with pity and fear on their faces. Also, there was something important he needed to do before it began.

He noted that the others were exchanging worried looks, but he pushed open the doors and headed toward the Great Hall. Ron dutifully followed him.

The entrance hall was deserted, but the Great Hall was lit with candles in the pre-dawn darkness, and voices carried from it. Here was another room in which he was regarded with fear... or reverence...he was not sure which. The people who were prowling about nervously, all looked up at Harry as he entered, but no one spoke to him. Harry registered the aroma of eggs, kippers and bacon, and it made his stomach a bit queasy.

A few steps inside the door, Ron and Harry were hailed by Bill who was seated near the wall by the door. Harry nodded for Ron to go talk to his elder brother. Ron was trying to support him, and not leave him alone this morning which Harry appreciated, but just now he needed a moment alone with...

Fred and George were in a corner, talking together and drinking what looked like very strong coffee. Harry quickly wended his way toward their table.

The twins looked up when he approached. "Off to kill the Dark Lord, Harry?" asked Fred casually.

"We were wondering...do you fancy a really good meal at the Leaky Cauldron after?" asked George.

"Ya," said Fred. "Our treat. Anything on the menu."

Harry rolled his eyes as they grinned at him. Somehow, those two could always raise his spirits no matter the trouble.

"Listen," Harry said to them, bending close and lowering his voice. "I've locked Ginny in the dormitory. I don't want her out there today." He reached into his pocket. "I've taken her wand," he said, laying it on the table next to George. "When everything is over, go let her out...OK? But not till it's over."

They both looked shrewdly at him.

"Harry, I'm sure you think this is for the best, but..." began Fred slowly.

"Do you know how hacked off that girl is going to be that you locked her in?" finished George.

Harry had straightened up, "Ya, I do. But it's the right thing. Please say you'll do this for me."

"Of course we'll do it," Fred said. "It'll be like releasing a wet cat from a sack, I suspect."

"The girls' staircase," sighed George. "How did you mange it, Harry? We were never able to work out..."

"Thanks for doing this," interrupted Harry before the discussion got too specific.

The twins obviously thought he was nervous, and quickly extended their hands to shake Harry's. "Best of luck today, mate," they said in unison.

"Thanks," muttered Harry. He couldn't think what else to say, so he turned and went off to find Ron again.

He was cognizant of the stares from the assembled wizards as he moved through them. The ones he knew gave him encouraging looks. The ones he didn't know seemed to be appraising his chances. He tried to watch the floor, or the walls, or anything but their faces.

A person rose and stuck out his hand as Harry passed. Harry turned and saw Theodore Nott. He must have remained at school after McGonagall's announcement. Harry shook the hand he was offered looking questioningly at him. Nott and he had a private agreement to help each other but only secretly. Nott lived in fear of retribution if the Slytherins or the Death Eaters discovered he was not really on their side.

"Good luck today, Potter," said Nott.

"Thanks," said Harry.

"I'm going to be behind you, Potter. Doesn't make sense to hide any longer, it's time to take a side," he added in a whisper for only Harry to hear.

Harry would have smiled, but he found he couldn't quite manage it, so he simply nodded, and kept moving toward the door.

Ron was standing near the door for which Harry was thankful. He wanted to get out of this stifling room. Ron had a piece of toast in his hand but he seemed unable to take a bite of it. As Harry got closer, he saw Ron raise it to his mouth several times, then drop it again. He finally tossed it on to a nearby, vacant table, looking slightly green.

"C'mon," said Harry. The pair walked through the entrance hall and through the oak front doors to stand on the steps facing out toward the lake.

"It's an hour yet before they come, don't you think?' asked Ron, who was shivering slightly, his breath visible on the cold, heavy, air.

"Ya, an hour...or so," replied Harry. The plan was to wait until Voldemort and his Death Eaters appeared before Harry, or any of the Order's forces walked out on to the frozen lake.

"Here," said Harry, slipping the invisibility cloak from his pocket and passing it to Ron. No one, but themselves, Hermione, and Ginny knew what Ron would be doing today and how he would be aiding Harry in casting the strongest spell possible.

Ron nodded weakly and pocketed the cloak. "I'll get it on....over there...behind that wall...when the time comes."

Harry nodded. "Tap me on the shoulder when you're next to me... then I'll start walking," he replied, although they had rehearsed all of this a hundred times.

"Ya...all right," whispered Ron mechanically. Neither looked at the other, but stared out at the lake. "Ice looks thick, don't you think?"

"Uhh...thick...probably," said Harry in a mumble.

Then they waited in silence.

~ ~ ~

Hermione had watched them as they moved around the Great Hall. Harry looked like a condemned man and Ron, not much better. She purposely avoided hailing them. First, she knew she'd just fall apart if she had to bid them good-bye again, and second, she didn't need them questioning her and revealing her own plans. She had found a place in a dark corner next to the far wall, and was keeping to herself. Hermione wanted to be free to move when the time came.

She hadn't been able to mange much sleep and was relying on strong coffee to bring herself around. She was supposed to be assisting Madam Pomfrey today. She was also supposed to help retreating wizards get to safety. It was a load of tosh and she knew it. The only thing of any importance, or value was Harry's success today. After that...she didn't like to think.

She had known from the first that they would never agree to allow her near the actual battlefield. Her dueling skills were abysmal. She just simply could not get the hang of it. She scowled to herself. The numerous books she had read on the subject had never been quite enough. She knew she lacked the speed and instinct needed to really succeed as a dueler. Therefore, Harry had relegated her to help get the wounded from the battlefield. It was a noble task, but she had to do more, if she could.

Byron Ogilvie had written an excellent book entitled, The Great Wizard Duels of Recorded History. In it he stated '...it is not, therefore, the magical power of the wizard that matters in the end, but the preponderance of the circumstances that flow in his or her favor, that turn the tide...' At first Hermione had scoffed at this idea, but after reflection had decided there was something to it after all, and had silently asked Mr. Ogilvie's pardon for thinking him a fool.

The day Harry announced that he had owled Voldemort and for all intents, set the date for the battle, Hermione had started trying to figure a way to help turn the tide. As the Order members had begun arriving at the castle, the way presented itself. It had not been easy. Even now, she shrunk from Alastor Moody and his gaze. She had managed to sneak an invisibility cloak from his room. He nearly caught her too. He might have gladly lent her one, she didn't know, but it was one of those things one could not risk.

As though he could sense her thinking about him, Moody's electric blue eye swung in her direction. He gave her a small nod. She smiled weakly and waved, then raised her coffee cup to her mouth, hoping to block him out. He was a very suspicious person. In truth, he should be, she guessed... with a sneak thief like herself around.

Her plan was not as well formed as she would have liked. Grilling Ron about how he and Harry would bring off the spell had been a bit useless. She dared not question Harry any more. He was on the edge as it was. She had gone off to the Room of Requirement for a few hours and practiced shield charms. She was pretty good...there...alone...with no pressure...with no Dark Lord facing her.

Her nerves were frayed raw as she waited. After what seemed like an hour, a call of "THEY'RE APPARATING OUT ON THE LAKE!" rang through the hall. Once the company had rushed out towards the entrance to the castle with a great clatter of chairs and benches and with extremely anxious looks on their faces, she whipped the cloak over herself and followed them.

Hermione ran over her plan in her head. I might not be a dueler, but under this cloak, I can try to provide a shield or some help. At least, I can attempt to protect the fallen, whether, Harry, Ron or both. Hermione swallowed hard and brushed the hot tears from here eyes. She would be worthless if she dissolved at a time like this.

Of course, Moody could see through invisibility cloaks, but if she were very careful, by the time he spotted her, it would be too late for him to stop her. All she needed was a bit of luck, and then a good strong shield charm...should the time come.

Hermione kept low as she dodged and shifted through gaps in the crowd of wizards. She tried not to jostle anyone as she moved around towards the side of the group where she would be free to get out ahead of them...out to where Harry and Ron would be. She snagged the cloak momentarily, on a brittle and icy thorn bush, but was able to dislodge herself with a sharp tug and a whispered curse.

In the back of her head, she was also quite worried about Ginny. Unlike herself, Ginny was a good dueler, cool and accurate. Harry hadn't actually told Ginny not to join in the fighting. He would have known better than that. He probably assumed her parents would forbid her. Hermione had overheard Mr. Weasley argue with his daughter in the entrance hall on Saturday evening. Ginny, who was quite practical, appeared to agree without much of a row. She probably saw how important it was to her father. Knowing Ginny as she did, however, she suspected Ginny had her fingers crossed behind her back at the time.

Then there was that strange question Ginny had asked her in the Great Hall several days ago. While Hermione never could work out what Ginny was actually driving at, when Hermione stole the invisibility cloak from Moody's trunk, she had half expected that Ginny would have beaten her to it.

~ ~ ~

I had a rocky night, Ron thought to himself. Nightmares and stuff. Could have used a bit of that dreamless sleep potion Dumbledore sent to Harry, but of course, even Dumbledore doesn't know what I'm going to do today. He glanced over at Harry standing next to him in the chill morning air.

He has the spotlight again, and I'm the sidekick again. This time I'll actually be the invisible sidekick.

Still, Voldemort won't see me... and with luck, won't be aiming curses at me, thought Ron as he let the idea slip comfortingly through his mind. Then he shook his head, admonishing himself. The invisibility cloak was not about his safety but about giving Harry a better chance against Voldemort. Ron rubbed the slippery fabric of it, stowed in his pocket. It didn't feel like much protection.

Fear was seeping into him from the frosty stone steps, and he could taste it in the back of his throat. Push it down, he told himself. I have a job to do and I'll be damned if I'll let Harry down now.

I'd do anything for Harry and I know he'd do the same for me. Mates for life, I guess we are, and we are going to kill him today, even if we die doing it. That was the bottom-line...even if we die doing it. Ron exhaled and watched the fog his warm breath made in the frosty air.

He stole a glance at Harry. I expect we'll die, Ron thought, shuddering inadvertently. Perhaps someone would write a sad ballad about us when it's over.

Harry and Ron went down to the lake

To fight You-Know-Who that cold day

He was scary and tall

He killed one and all

And in this old grave they both lay

Ron called himself several harsh names for producing the limerick, the least of which was stupid git. Now the silly rhyme would stick in his brain.

To try to dislodge it from his head, Ron thought back to the night before. He and Hermione had talked a bit about Harry and about how he was born to kill Voldemort. What a thing to have hung on you! Then she wanted to go over the whole plan. I told her, I really don't do much while Harry does his air spell thingy. I just hang on and try not to pass out. Harry has the hard part.

I also told Hermione how much I love her, as though she didn't know it already. Of course, she broke out like a leaky pipe. Why do girls do that? I hugged her and rubbed her back for a while. She seemed to have a hard time stopping. It wasn't exactly the send off I was hoping for. Still it's good to know she's that worried about me.

Order members had begun to gather outside, standing quietly behind them. Everyone was looking out at the lake. Ron stared out at it too, and suddenly wondered where the giant squid went when it was all frozen over like this. Stupid thought! Really stupid! Rubbing his cold hands together, he stomped his feet nervously.

All of a sudden there were dark figures far out from the shore, appearing in twos and threes. Apparating. The crowd of wizards behind them began murmuring to each other. There must be fifty Death Eaters now...now sixty...or perhaps seventy.

They looked like one huge, black, living animal, moving slowing over the ice, making a sort of semi-circle. Blimey! That must be him! The single figure...alone... in front of them all, Ron thought, and a shiver ran through him.

It was time, and Ron nudged Harry slightly, so no one would notice and then he moved off toward the wall, trying to act innocent.

Behind the wall, Ron checked that no one was watching him, and then threw the cloak over himself. He remembered Harry's warning to be really sure he was completely covered. Luckily, the cloak was very ample when only one person was under it.

Ron slipped out and got in front of the crowd. Harry was moving forward as they planned...getting himself free of the group. Ron hurried to join up with him. Then...we'll go out...out to the lake, he thought gritting his teeth.

Kingsley seemed to be putting the rest of the company into groups. There was a low muttering and shifting going on behind them. Ron wished he could see Hermione, but she must be inside, helping Madam Pomfrey get ready.

Harry's face looked like something you don't want to cross. His jaw was working slightly, and he was staring straight out at Voldemort, and nowhere else. He had paused to wait for the signal from Ron that he too was ready. Ron tapped Harry's arm and noticed him startle a bit, then start walking forward. Ron quickened his pace to stay right at his side.

The Order and the Aurors were coming behind them. Ron was able to turn and see them. It was an impressive sight. They all had their wands drawn and their faces were menacing. Ron had his out too, although it did not seem like much in the face of the black horde they were approaching. I may have to stun some of them, Ron thought. Then he panicked as he struggled to remember the incantation for stunning. His mind had gone blank. Alarm swelled in him. Stupefy. That was it. Now, calm down and keep breathing he warned himself.

They were getting close much too fast. Ron wished Harry would slow down a bit. His face was as hard as stone and he was just glaring at Voldemort.

Voldemort's face...it's just like a snake's face, thought Ron, as they got even closer. Those evil red eyes! He makes my scalp crawl. Harry! Slow down! Ron was shouting in his head. His sweaty fingers nearly fumbled his wand. Damn there are so many of them!

Harry finally stopped and Ron edged closer to his side, and slightly behind as they'd practiced. The Death Eaters and the Order had each formed a semi circle fifty feet or so behind their own champions. Ron stole another quick glance behind them. Immediately his eyes found Moody's and Ron knew he could see under the cloak. Harry had said that Moody would cotton on, and keep quiet, so not to worry. Moody's brow was furled but he was not turning to speak to anyone else.

Ron gritted his teeth and fixed his attention on Harry who was just standing there looking at Voldemort. The wind was whipping the hair off his face and Ron could see his scar.

~ ~ ~

"Harry Potter. We meet again," hissed the snake-like figure in front of them. "And...you've decided we should finish it," he continued sarcastically. "Those were your words, I believe." The Death Eaters sniggered behind him. "Your challenge was quite...what's the correct expression? ... unanticipated?" he drawled with a confidence that was disconcerting, no matter what Harry told himself.

"I thought we might as well get it over," said Harry flatly. "I don't want the prophecy hanging over my head any longer." In truth, it was the mounting body count he wanted stopped, as he considered the murderer standing in front of him.

Voldemort's features remained unreadable. "The prophecy...Yes...You wouldn't want to tell me the entire thing, would you? As you know, I've had some trouble hearing all of it."

Harry simply looked at him. "You killed my parents and tried to kill me without knowing the entire prophecy. When you did that, you only made things worse for yourself. Then you killed the seer who made it. You've made the wrong choices all along."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "Potter, your parents were no great loss, nor was that poor excuse for a seer." He was trying to make Harry angry...angry enough to do something rash. Voldemort waited, but Harry said nothing.

"Not going to tell me then? I thought not." He turned slightly to his right and left, as though checking his Death Eaters were all arrayed around him. "Now you want to duel," he said, his voice rising. "You're a bit befuddled, aren't you boy? Don't you recall what happened the last time our wands crossed?" asked Voldemort. "I see you still have your same wand, and I have no intention of dueling with a wand other than my wand, so I fail to see the point of all this." His tone was dismissive, but Harry sensed the tension behind the words. He decided to see if he was right.

"Are you afraid of my wand? Because if I remember correctly, you weren't able to get my wand to give up its spells...but your wand did," said Harry.

"I was simply weak from the transformation," said Voldemort, through gritted teeth. "I assure you that if our wands meet now, the result would be far different...boy," he added with venom in his voice.

Harry looked at the abomination in front of him that all wizards feared. He was very like the ugly bully on the block; Voldemort was dominant because they all allowed him to be so. The only thing that joined his supporters to him was fear, and longing for power.

Harry held his wand out in front of him so Voldemort could see it. "I don't need this to fight you," and he let his wand drop to the ice, holding out his empty hand to Voldemort. The thin piece of wood clinked and bounced on the hard, white surface as a communal gasp erupted from behind him. Harry could almost feel the eyes of the forces arrayed behind him boring into him, wondering if he'd gone mad.

Voldemort did not move or speak. Harry was sure he was evaluating this new development, and that he was struggling to interpret its meaning. Harry sensed that Voldemort was just a bit afraid of him, no matter what he said to the contrary. After all, who in their right mind, would drop their wand to start a wizard's duel, unless they had another weapon. Harry had bested, or at least escaped Voldemort enough times that this action should cause the Dark Lord to pause. Even though the move was good, and was having the intended effect, in the back of his head Harry thought, I can't believe I just disarmed myself.

Voldemort sucked in a hissing breath as the Death Eaters' laughter died away. They had thought it funny that Harry had dropped his wand, but they had begun to murmur amongst themselves when their lord had not.

Now for a little extra diversion, thought Harry, before Voldemort could answer his action. "Snape!" he shouted. "Come out, you coward."

A look of momentary confusion crossed Voldemort's face, followed by anger. He did not like someone else running the show, nor calling out his own minions.

"Do you wish to duel with Severus as a warm up, Potter?" asked Voldemort, recovering his arrogant hiss. "I would suggest retrieving your wand in that case." Then he turned and beckoned one of the hooded and masked Death Eaters forward. "Here he is. What do you want with him?"

Good, thought Harry. It would be more effective with Snape present. It would be a much better distraction. He turned toward Snape. "Whose side are you playing on today, Snape?" he asked.

"Potter," rasped Snape. "You are beyond belief. You should be begging the Dark Lord's mercy instead of strutting around creating this embarrassing spectacle."

"And here I thought it was you who would be begging your master for mercy," said Harry. Then he turned to Voldemort. "What did Snape tell you about the night Lucius Malfoy died?" Harry registered the buzz from wizards all around the circle who did not know Malfoy had been killed. "Did he explain their little plot to you? Or did he just pretend not to know what happened to Malfoy?"

The uproar that followed from the Death Eaters was a counterpoint to the comprehension flickering across Voldemort's face. He stared at Harry, unblinkingly, and Harry returned his stare. This part had been the hardest to perfect, giving Voldemort only the one memory to read in his head.

Voldemort exploded with the cry, "Snape?!?"

"Master," began Snape. "The boy is a liar. Surely you are not going to allow him..."

"You thought to take my place," said Voldemort, with suppressed rage and a note of dangerous interest in his voice.

The entire company fell silence, and Harry saw Snape take a small step back.

"I can see the truth in his worthless mind, Severus, and I am very...very...displeased." Voldemort's pale face was now livid with wrath although his voice had become deadly calm.

He sliced his wand through the air, and a jet of light shot toward Snape. Snape attempted a shield charm, but slipped and fell as he was backing away. He was too late. In an instant, heavy iron chains, as thick as Hagrid's wrist, began to wrap themselves around Snape. More and more of them spun out of thin air, pinning Snape's legs and wrapping his arms to his sides. Harry watched him struggle under the massive and accumulating weight, until a loud crack rent the air and the ice on which Snape was now laying, broke into several pieces, forming a jagged hole. Snape began to sink through the opening, being wedged momentarily between floating chunks of ice, but finally slipping beneath the icy water with a muffled scream.

This was the moment, thought Harry, as he watched Snape disappear. Voldemort would turn in a second, and aim a killing curse at him. The cat and mouse play was over. Now was the time to strike.

He reached to his side and felt Ron's hand clasp his forearm without hesitation. Harry plunged his free arm into the air and felt the power of the magic shoot from his fingertips, skyward. He let the elemental magic surge through him like a million tiny electrical sparks, all converging, combining and escaping wildly into the air. He was barely aware of anything around him. He could feel Ron's grip slack, but knew he could not stop to look at his friend. They had made their pact.

The entire thing took only seconds. He heard the mighty roar of wind and thunder overhead, stronger, surely, than he had ever produced before. Black clouds roiled across the sky overhead... and then came hail. Huge chunks of ice beating down on the lake surface.

Voldemort had whipped back to face him and was looking up at the sky, momentarily dumbstruck. There was shouting and the sound of running feet. Then the lightening began to form. Harry lowered his eyes and stared into the red snake-like slits of his enemy. There was disbelief there.

As Harry poured every final ounce of magical power he possessed into the storm grinding far over his head, the surface of the lake seemed to rock. Voldemort slipped on the pitching ice and his wand clattered away from him. Harry heard him growl "Accio," and saw Voldemort scramble to his feet, trying to get his footing...trying to aim his wand.

Harry couldn't make the spell any stronger, and he couldn't hold it back any longer. His scar was bursting with pain and his body was unable to bear the strain of it. In the far back reaches of his brain he said...for you Mum, and Dad, and Sirius...and Ginny too. He forced one final surge of energy upward - he would have but one chance.

In slow motion, he saw understanding replace the fear in Voldemort's eyes and an incantation escape from his thin white lips. But Harry had already aimed the full force of the lightening storm at his enemy.

In the white hot flash that followed, he saw the body of Voldemort rise up off the surface of the lake and twist itself into the form of a huge serpent. There was an explosion of light and sound, and though everything around him was closing down in blackness, he knew he had to hang on for one last second.

Then...there was silence and cold against his face.

Harry didn't expect to last long as he lay on his stomach sucking in, what he was sure were his last few breaths. The sky above him was perilous with huge, unnatural, black clouds and wild lightening, like crazy fireworks or an ever-changing spider web of jagged light. The very air around him was pulsing with electricity. It was bizarre really, as his own frail circuits were about to fail for good.

There was certainly noise around him but he couldn't hear it. His ears were not admitting any sound. Perhaps his senses were shutting down, one by one. His mouth was dry as brittle leaves. His lips would not part to let out a cry for help. He tried to will his finger, just one finger to move against the surface upon which he lay. No movement. No feeling. No smells of battle filled his nostrils, no whiff of smoke, no acrid scent of blood.

He had pushed the spell too far...much too far. He wished he knew if it had been enough.

Harry allowed his eyes to close and wished hopefully for the only thing remaining to him, he wished to see his parents, and perhaps Sirius beckoning to him with open arms. The pain was nothing now. He knew he should be feeling it, but it simply was not there; just a leaden body that he could no longer stir into action and a soul that was restless to be free of it.

~~~

Hermione was questioning her sanity as she stood on the ice in a position that put her in the very center of the battlefield. Harry's gamble had worked, and the last of Snape's black robes had just vanished below the ice. The lake was deep here she thought, savagely.

She told herself to ignore what Harry was doing and just watch the Death Eaters for signs of a spell being aimed at him. Suddenly she found herself down on her knees on the ice, as though an earthquake had rocked the surface of the lake, causing it to pitch. Hail began to fall, and the lake ice itself seemed to be about to heave up and break. Large cracks were running through it in all directions, making a noise like a hundred snapping tree branches.

She had her wand clutched in her hand, but was not sure her plan to shield Harry or Ron, would actually work. She had tried not to look at Voldemort. His voice alone was enough to freeze the blood.

She chanced a quick look behind her and immediately noticed Moody signaling surreptitiously to her to move back. Of course, he could see her. Perhaps he thought she was a liability rather than an asset. Her determination wavered. Perhaps she was wrong to be here.

The Order and the Aurors were all looking up at the sky. Just as she turned back toward Harry and Ron, a bright flash of light blinded her, and the crack of thunder behind it was deafening. It was then she realized Ron was lying on the ice, seemingly unconscious What's more; his cloak had partially slid off him. Just then, Harry slipped down next to Ron in a heap, death white.

She tightened her grip on her wand, and looked quickly toward the Death Eaters. They were yelling... stumbling... running forward.

Hermione kept as low as she could, crawling over to where Ron and Harry lay. She felt the panic rise in her chest as hysteria threatened to overwhelm her. She had to think...to decide what was best to do.

With strength she didn't know she had, she slid and dragged Harry and Ron away from the center of the fighting, through a forest of charging legs and falling bodies. The ice helped. A stinging hex hit her leg, but she ignored it. Harry was struck in the arm by a curse and blood streaked the ice as she pulled him farther from the battle. She cast a shield charm twice, trying to protect both of them from stray spells. Somehow, they were not trampled in the melee.

~ ~ ~

Ginny wiped away her tears. They would, after all, do no good. She climbed to her feet and considered her situation. Harry had locked her in to save her. That much was clear. Surely, Harry had also planned her eventual release. She tried the door again. She tried yelling. There was no answer. There was nothing to do but wait.

She needed some clothes, and went to Harry's trunk, rifling through it, turfing out Harry's school robes as she looked for a shirt and some jeans. The jeans she found were too long and big around the middle, but half a dozen hasty turn-ups later and a tight cinch of the belt worked sufficiently well. Then she pulled on some socks that looked as though Dobby had knitted them.

Ginny found the window that faced most directly towards the battle. The sky was now a flat grey that threatened snow. She still could not make out the lake properly from here. "Damn! Damn! Damn!" she raged to the empty room again, before striding back to the door again and rattling the doorknob violently. Grabbing up a pitcher from Ron's bedside table, she flung it at the door in exasperation.

As the minutes rolled by, marked by the loud ticking of a clock on Ron's bedside table, Ginny thought back to the previous night. It was a good memory even though it made her ache now. She prayed it would not be the last memory she would have of him. The note was he left her was crushed in her hand. She smoothed out the parchment and stared at the handwriting without taking in the words.

Suddenly there were flashes of light shooting into the sky. Ginny leapt to the window. A horrible, deep growling sound seemed to be coming from a dark vortex of cloud above the tree line. The clouds blackened and expanded as they swirled ever faster. The darkness seemed to be spreading upward and outward, and was crackling with flashes of bright, razor sharp, light. She held her breath.

A bolt of lightening such as Ginny had never seen crashed out of the swirling clouds and an intense bright white explosion like a bomb blast left dancing spots before her eyes.

Cries sprang up from down below, cries of anger, and triumph, fear and pain; a tumult that was indecipherable from where she stood. "What's happening?" she screamed into the silence.

Soon there were figures moving far below the little window. She couldn't make out who they were. Then cries of "It's over!" reached her high perch. Ginny Weasley backed away from the window, a thrill of dread sweeping over her. She blacked out, slipping noiselessly to the floor.

"Ginny!" she heard as if through a fog, "Ginny!"

"She's not coming round, George."

"No, I think she is, look she's moving."

The voices, so identical in everyway, were her brothers, Fred and George. Ginny tried to sit up and realized her head was throbbing in pain. Fred and George were peering at her with worried expressions.

"What happened?" she asked dully

"Well we came to find you, and you were passed out on the floor," said Fred.

"No...No...not me..." she said fighting for control, "What's happened to Harry!!!."

"You need to come with us," was all they would say.

~~~

The doors of the Great Hall banged open. Ginny ran into the room, looking wildly from face to face. She spotted Ron, looking pale and numb, and being helped into a seat by Bill. He lifted his face toward his sister, looking white as death.

"We...He..." Ron's voice choked and tears stood in his eyes. He looked away.

Bill too, seemed speechless. She herself was unable to speak the question, for fear of the answer she might receive.

Ginny registered Hermione slumped against the back wall, sobbing violently. No one seemed to have the will or the spirit to move to comfort her.

Every face Ginny looked into was unable to meet her gaze. It was a counterpoint to the noise of victorious shouting outside on the lawn. Then she noticed Lupin and Kingsley laying a body very carefully on the head table, in the center, where Dumbledore normally sat. Ginny moved slowly down the center aisle, between the tables, drawn as if by an invisible force, toward the lifeless figure. Fred and George, who had followed her into the hall, had torn the Gryffindor banner from the wall and were gently and reverently draping the body with it.

Scarlet and gold. The colors of Gryffindor... of bravery...of the bond the two of them had forged the previous night. Comprehension dawned on her. With fury in her voice, she screamed "Noooo!" and ran forward toward the table where the body lay, where Harry lay. Lupin grabbed her around the waist, trying to hold her back. Ginny struggled against him.

She could see Harry's hand hanging down just below the cloth. The hand she had held last night when she had promised him she was his forever. She could see blood falling in silent, shining droplets, off the end of one of his fingers. She shot Lupin a filthy look as she wrenched herself free of his grasp and flung herself toward the table.

Fred called her name, but did not stop her. She reached the table and pulled the banner away from Harry's face as tears streamed freely down her cheeks. So young, she thought bending over him. She stroked his forehead, placing her fingertips on his scar, and then fire lit her eyes. She spun to face the crowd. "He's not dead!" she snarled. "HE IS NOT DEAD!!!" She ran the length of the hall and through the doors before anyone could stop her. Her footfalls could be heard as she ran off, up the marble stairs.

~~~

It was a wonderful, although slightly frightening feeling...floating upward, out of your body, hovering above it, and then looking calmly down at the people in the room. As Harry drifted toward the ceiling, he became more comfortable with the feeling of lightness, having left his heavy, battered, body lying on the staff table below. People were sobbing and shouting but their voices didn't seem to matter very much. The turmoil in the room was only vaguely interesting, and the sound of it all seemed muffled and fuzzy.

Harry wondered just how far away from his body he could travel. He was a bit reluctant to leave it completely behind and soar up through the vaulted ceiling of the Great Hall, even though he felt as though he could do so. It was rather like venturing out into the deep water once you first learned to swim. He hovered serenely above everyone. He knew they couldn't see him.

Just then, Dumbledore entered the hall. He was supported by Ginny on the one side and Madam Pomfrey on the other. Madam Pomfrey looked as though she were doing this against all sense, and seemed to be muttering to herself. Ginny had a look of grim determination on her face as she focused on his body and urged Dumbledore forward.

Ginny. He did not want to leave her behind. Perhaps he could call to her, and she could come with him. He realized he had no voice to call her with. He sank down a bit from the ceiling to watch her.

When they reached the head table, Dumbledore extracted a small vial of ruby colored liquid from his robes. He bent over Harry's body and poured the stuff into Harry's mouth. A sudden feeling, like the attraction of a strong magnet, caught him and Harry was pulled irresistibly back down, and into his earth-bound form. It was both comforting and sad to give up the freedom of weightless flight.

He gasped and choked, his chest arching off the table violently. The sounds in the room pierced his brain like knives, as pain flooded his being. Then Harry sank into blackness.