The Art of Peace

Chapter 25

A Finale

Rinchen watched the lumbering beast in front of him with growing frustration. It was not a dangerous animal per se, but it followed the attempts at escape with surprising speed and agility to prevent them from leaving the Anti-Apparation field it was producing. All attempts at disabling the beast had proved fruitless as well, as its hide seemed to be dragon-like in consistency. Finally a solution occurred to him. A portkey would be just the thing to relieve them of their problem. They had tried it before, of course, but this had been an attempt to portkey men. Perhaps the key was to portkey the beast. Quickly Rinchen brought out a throwing star. After casting the appropriate spells he threw the star with all his might to lodge it in one of the beast's scales. Nodding in satisfaction he activated the portkey. Much to his delight and relief the beast disappeared. Hopefully it did not know how to swim. Gathering his men once more, Rinchen apparated to the now empty camp to hopefully prove to be of help in the still ongoing battle.

The appearance of Rinchen's fresh troops was a welcome reinforcement to the beleaguered fighters under Lobsang and Sirius' command. It was an even more dramatic effect as both sides were now quite tired while. A quick series of movements brought them to the left flank and they quickly set to work turning the enemy line onto itself in an attempt to surround the Death Eaters.

Ron's first warning that something had changed in the tide of the battle was the sudden appearance of retreating Death Eaters. While this was good for the battle as a whole, it meant that instead of winning as they had been, Ron and the warriors around him were now quite hard pressed. A lone Death Eater appeared from the thick bushes behind them as they fought off yet another group of tired Death Eaters. Before they had a chance to react he had laid George low with a Cruciatus Curse. Ron turned quickly and cast a Stupefying hex, but the Death Eater raised a shield that dissipated the force of the spell harmlessly before turning to torture George once more. The Death Eater's laughs and George's screams drove Ron into a frenzy. Casting about for a way to save his brother his eyes fell on a spear clasped in the hand of a fallen Tibetan. Wrenching it from the stiffening body Ron leveled the spear in front of him and charged. The tip of the spear hit the Death Eater in his side and plunged straight through with a sickening efficiency. The still-masked man jerked at the initial impact, but knowing he was going to die anyway, he used the last bit of energy left to end George's life. Ron screamed in hopeless rage as the unforgiving green light of the 'Avada Kedavra' curse sent his brother into oblivion. With a choking laugh the Death Eater sank to his knees on the ground. Taking off his mask, Draco Malfoy turned to Ron and with blood starting to bubble from his mouth said, "I guess I got the last laugh after all, Weasel." His body finally stilled as death took him, Draco Malfoy stayed upright thanks to the spear in his side, defiant to the end. A few feet away a broken Ron hugged his knees to his chest next to his dead brother, rocking back and forth while tears streamed down his face.

Meanwhile Voldemort watched the new developments with growing frustration. This battle had grown unchecked into what looked like the deciding battle of the war. Whoever won here was sure to inevitably win as almost all troops on both sides had been committed to the battle. It looked like he would have to take a personal role in the battle in order to ensure victory. The Dark Lord was ready to make his entrance.

Voldemort apparated into the rear of the Death Eater lines and made his way to the front. A hole opened before him as he walked, his serpentine figure striking fear in the defenders. His magical skills had grown to an almost legendary status over the years, and even his recent rebirth had not decreased his power that much. Wasting no time playing with his victims, Voldemort let loose almost exclusively with the Killing Curse. The trail of bodies he left behind him was outpaced by the people running before him. Counterattacks seemed almost useless as he waved aside hexes nonchalantly.

Harry had left Ginny in the care of a healer and moved back into the fray by the time word of Voldemort's arrival reached him. Tired but determined he moved toward the location of the latest reports. His blood had brought the madman back, and his blood would send him back to whatever hell had spawned him.

When the two men spotted each other across the field of battler, Voldemort showed a menacing smile on his face. Harry, however, was in pain. For the first time in over four years his scar was active. Swiftly he emptied his mind of all thoughts and brought up his mental defenses. The pain abated but did not disappear entirely as Harry moved to attack the Dark Lord.

"Potter. Finally we meet again. Are you ready to die?" Voldemort asked as they neared each other.

"Actually, I wasn't planning on dying today, Tom. Have you said your prayers?" Harry replied.

Voldemort's face became a grimace at his long abandoned name as he brought his wand up to point at Harry.

"Avada Kedavra!" he cried.

Harry had seen the curse coming, though, and was not there when it passed.

"You'll have to try harder than that, Tom" he jeered, flipping himself upright again.

Realizing that a quick end was not possible, Voldemort resorted to the more traditional dueling curse, sending them one after another in a wave at Harry. The constant bombardment was almost too much for Harry to bear. Some he blocked and some he dodged, but healing Ginny had taken too much out of him to keep it up for long. His confidence faltered for the first time how strong Voldemort was compared to him in his current state. As his confidence died, so did his ability. A jelly legs hex pierced his defense, slowing him long enough for a cruel smile to cross Voldemort's lips as he cast the Cruciatus Curse on Harry. The pain was intense and immediate, and only his years of training in meditative techniques allowed him to block out the pain long enough to send a 'Stupefy' at his opponent. Although the hex did not have its desired effect, it was enough to distract Voldemort and disrupt the curse. Harry sagged back in relief as exhaustion took hold. Voldemort, on the other hand, was anything but tired. He raised his wand again, this time to end the struggle for good.

His look of satisfaction faded to shock and dismay as he looked down at the sword that had suddenly blossomed from his chest. He jerked forward spasmodically off the blade and crumpled to the ground. Above him stood Claude, a victorious look on his face. He quickly stepped over Voldemort' body and moved to help Harry to his feet. He stopped as he saw Harry's eyes widen and lock on a spot on the ground behind him. Swiftly Claude spun to find Voldemort rising to his feet, no trace on the wound to be seen. Even the blood on Claude's blade had disappeared.

"Did you think you could finish me that easily, boy? I am the Dark Lord! Not even Death can stop me now!"

"We'll just have to see about that, won't we," Claude said as he advanced on the now risen wizard.

A flurry of spells even more intense than before was now in the air. This time both Claude and Voldemort were sending out spells as fast as they could. From the first, though, it was clear that Claude had the advantage as he could send and block spells simultaneously without depending on a wand as Voldemort did. Voldemort's eyes narrowed as he watched the boy in front of him. He reminded him of someone. Settling for just defensive action he called out.

"What is your name, boy?"

"Of what use is that to you, old man? You'll be dead soon anyways," Claude replied, his spellcasting unabated by the speech.

"Whatever the end, it does not matter. Tell me your name!"

"Fine. It's Riddle. Claude Riddle. Are you satisfied old man?"

"It is as I suspected then. My name before I took up my glorious cause was Thomas Riddle. Sound familiar to you, my young relative?"

"Y-You are Tom Riddle? I thought you were a story! You should be dead!"

"That's magic for you. Now why don't we leave these hopeless Muggle lovers and settle down as those of the same blood should, as friends and equals. What say you?"

"Fat chance of that old man. My parents were the Muggles you seem to hate so much. My mother was killed and I almost was. I have no reason to join you, blood or not. I know a better way."

"Have it your way then. Before I kill you, there is something you should know. It was I who had your family killed. They ridiculed me and cast me out, so I gave them their due. With your death I will finally have my revenge!"

Claude's visage filled with rage. This... snake! had killed his mother and father and tried to kill him! He would pay! Claude's spells grew in intensity to a point that even without acting offensively Voldemort was hard pressed to defend himself. At last the Dark Lord had met his better, and ironically it was his own grandnephew. As he cast the spells, Claude moved closer and closer to his elder until finally he whipped out his sword once more and with a deadly swipe took the Dark Lord's head off with one clean blow. The headless body crumpled to the ground, the magic from before already at work to revive him. Claude stood there in consternation. What could he do against an enemy that revived himself? A hand rested on his shoulder and he turned to see Harry there leaning on him, weak but still alert. Harry stretched out his hand and fire burst from his fingertips to engulf the head and body. Taking his cue Claude did the same, and soon there was nothing left of the wizard but ash. Either even his advanced magicks could not overcome his dispersion by the wind or Harry was indeed the key, but either way, the Dark Lord did not return. It was over.

Of course it took time to mop up the remaining enemy warriors, but it did happen. After Voldemort's death the Death Eater ranks fell apart. Survivors were quickly rounded up and their wands removed as they were herded into Hogwarts massive dungeons. Healers now moved through the Forest in the late hours of the afternoon, cataloguing the dead and transporting the numerous wounded into the Great Hall. Harry and Claude moved through trying to find their mentor as the remaining Tibetan troops gathered in the camp. Their losses had been heavy, but most were wounded rather than dead so hope remained. In one particularly bloody area Harry paused. There was something familiar about hat man over there. Moving to see who it was, Harry stopped in horror as he recognized Sifu's face, long stilled in death. All around him were the bodies of dead Death Eaters, the holes in their bodies testament to the effectiveness of Sifu's spear. Claude sank to the ground beside Harry and they sat there in silence holding their friend and surrogate father as he began his final journey. At long last Harry stood, a determined look on his face. Reaching down he gently took hold of Claude's chin to direct his gaze upwards.

"His death meant something, you hear me? This is not the end for him, but the beginning. He died so we could live. We were a family, and you and I will remain one no matter what our blood may tell. Now let's give our father the respect he deserves and carry on as he would have wanted us to. Are you coming, brother?"

Claude grasped Harry's proffered arm and stood, a determined look on his face. It was time for the boy to become a man, and he would be one that his father, both his fathers, would have been proud of. Together the brothers walked toward the castle, their father's empty shell levitated between them.