Metamorphome

Chapter Twenty: And Then the Fat Lady Sang

Dawn.

Purple light shone through the trees, leaving murky, but hopeful, shadows among the brush. The castle was illuminated by the holy light, expectant and cheerful, and so unlike another castle at the beginning of this tale. Confident faces looked up to the new sky, hoping that this sky would be the beginning of a new era, one without fear and loathing.

A group of people stood with their backs against trees, holding family mementoes, or murmuring songs. One man, Muggleborn, was whispering a prayer to God. Morrigan watched him, lips pursed, arms folded against her chest, and her eyes disapproving. Had not his magic proved that there was no Christian God?

"Leave him be, Flaherty," growled a voice in her ear. Morrigan jumped and turned around to see Moody glaring at her with one eye, the other one pointed toward the horizon.

"I wasn't going to say anything," she muttered sulkily.

"Are you ready?" Moody asked impatiently, ignoring her.

"Yeah. I'll send my Patronus to warn you," she told him.

"Good, good." Moody nodded approvingly, and with a swish, he pulled his Invisibility Cloak over his body and disappeared.

Morrigan turned around and watched the horizon, waiting silently for Death to find her. "Hello, Morrigan," a voice said softly in her ear, causing her to jump once more.

Growling, she swiveled around and came face to face with Draco. "Oh!" she exclaimed, startled more by his handsome face than she had been by Moody's grizzled, haggard one. "You scared the shite out of me, Draco."

"I can tell," he said with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Right." She turned back to the horizon, her back to Draco. He stepped beside her and imitated her stance, crossing his arms across his chest, as well, narrowing his eyes against the early sun. In reality, they looked hilarious, but no one was willing to laugh.

They stood there silently for ten minutes, watching and waiting. Morrigan's heart was racing in her chest, beating so fast that she could feel it pumping her blood. Already her head was throbbing, and nothing had started yet. Draco, in his turn, wished that he could tell her everything he had been thinking and had discovered over the past month. He couldn't do that, though. It wasn't what she wanted. She wouldn't have it, any of it. It being their friendship. Meaning him. It had depressed him terribly, but he wasn't going to burden her with his angst.

Truthfully, he felt like once again he had failed to protect his charge. He hadn't been able to protect his mother, he hadn't been able to protect his father, and now he hadn't protected Morrigan from that which he needed most to protect her from: Himself.

It hurt a little, but it was his fault, he reminded himself. Entirely his fault, and there was nothing he could do, right? He glanced at her, biting his lip. She was leaning her neck forward, putting her hands over her eyes and squinting into the distance.

"Here they come," she growled, pointing. The entire company turned to look, and there, in the indigo sky, a mass of black shapes was streaking toward them. Morrigan looked at Draco once before she turned and pointed her wand in the direction that she knew the second group was waiting. "Expecto Patronum!" she cried, and a silvery jet shot from her wand, forming the shape of a dragon, large and fierce. The entire group stared, particularly Draco, as it swooped into the darkness of the forest. He opened his mouth to say something then snapped it shut. He would ask her afterwards, assuming they saw each other afterwards.

"Let's ready the welcome party," Draco said, then called to the group, "Get ready, please. When they land, we will wait for Group B to exit the trees across the way, and then we will follow."

"We know the plan, thanks," said a belligerent witch who was chewing gum, putting a hand on a saucy hip.

"Oi, shut up and listen," Morrigan called, curling her lip. "You're not to talk back." She kind of liked the authority.

The witch rolled her eyes and popped a bubble. Morrigan wanted to shove her hand in the witch's mouth, pull out the gum, and stuff it in the woman's nostril, but resisted the urge.

They watched from behind the trees as the group of Death Eaters landed. Morrigan recognized one member of the group as Snape, and looked for Voldemort among them. She didn't see him, unfortunately. Patiently she waited for the second group to emerge from the trees on the other side, but they didn't. They're risking our exposure, bastards, Morrigan thought angrily, peering at the forest. Still no one emerged.

"Snape!" screamed a voice. "The trees! To our right!"

Morrigan looked at her hands, thinking about which one was their right. Cursing, she realized they meant their particular part of the forest, nodded at Draco, who yelled, "Now!"

All fifteen of the witches and wizards exited the trees, and the battle began. As she entered the fray, Morrigan though, Sweet Brigid, I'm going to die. The Death Eaters outnumbered them forty-to-fifteen, and there was no way those numbers could possibly count for anything.

She glanced toward the other copse of trees, and to her immense relief, the other group emerged. This group was numbered at thirty witches and wizards, making the battle a bit more even.

Morrigan engaged battle with a wizard that she'd never met during her days as a Death Eater, though it was apparent he knew her. His face twisted into a mask of hatred as he recognized her as the infamous Morrigan Flaherty, and she grinned back at him antagonistically. He went in for the kill, but Morrigan could tell so effectively what it was he wished to do that she flicked her wand and his own wand arched through the air into her waiting hand. With a twisting sneer, she broke the wand in half, and the Death Eater's face turned a pale green.

"Stupefy!" Morrigan cried, and the Death Eater dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Meanwhile, Draco was engaged with Severus, both faces contorted into concentration as they sent curse after curse in the other's direction. Draco truly didn't want to kill his old mentor, but Snape had twice managed to put him under the Cruciatus, and Draco wasn't sure if he could withhold his killer instincts for very much longer. These thoughts distracted him, and this time, Snape's chosen curse was the Imperius. Draco could barely feel his own hand turn his wand on himself.

"Avada Kedavra!" a voice cried, and Snape dropped to the ground, dead.

Draco looked up at Morrigan, whose face was slack, seemingly dead as Snape's, whose face was a frozen mask of glee.

"I killed him," she whispered. Her voice was neither distraught nor happy. She just seemed shell-shocked.

"Morrigan!" Draco shouted. "Pull yourself together!"

Morrigan snapped out of her daze and ran off to help someone that was in trouble. Draco surveyed the area around him for a moment, watching as the Ministry, Aurors, and Order managed to finally Stun the last Death Eater.

The group went about, healing those living non- Death Eaters and levitating the dead into the forest and laying them to rest by the trees.

"Well," said Moody, wiping his hands on his robes. "That wasn't so bad. It's a shame You-Know-Who didn't show up." There was murmured assent, although no one truly agreed.

The other two groups of thirty or so exited the forest and met up with the larger group. One woman heard that her husband had been killed and ran crying hysterically into the forest to find his body. The other five who had died had been here alone. Morrigan watched the crying woman alone, her face passive, but her body tense.

Truthfully, she was disappointed that the Dark Lord hadn't made an appearance. It meant that he was still out there, and that the war was still going on.

Draco approached her and said, "We need--"

"Look!" screamed a shrill voice and everyone looked around. A woman was pointing her finger to the sky and the entire group followed her finger line straight to an enormous mass of black moving across the morning sky. Their numbers were hugely significant, even from two miles away, and Morrigan could tell that they had barely begun the battle. This had been a decoy--a fake to tell what was really going on. The real group had been signaled and they were coming in such masses that Morrigan wasn't sure that their numbers of one hundred and thirty could possibly contend.

"We're going to need back-up," someone whispered.

"I'm going back to the Ministry for help," Kingsley told Moody. "If I tell them the battle is hopeless, more people have to help."

"Hurry," Moody said urgently, putting a hand on Kingsley's robes. "Do not delay."

Kingsley nodded grimly, clasped Moody's hand, and took off, running toward the gates of Hogwarts posthaste.

Morrigan and Draco watched him leave with cold feelings in their stomachs.

In sudden desperation, Morrigan hugged Draco, shocking him more than anything, but he hugged her back tightly.

Morrigan wanted to tell Draco something, but the words stuck in her throat. Not now, she thought. After this. Otherwise, it's irrelevant.

The Death Eaters hovered slowly in their direction, taking their time. They knew they had the advantage. They had the advantage of merciless hearts, of a lawless leader. Morrigan could see Voldemort now. His tall, thin body was unmistakable even at this distance. She had memorized that figure in her dreams, and now it showed up in her nightmares occasionally. She could feel herself screaming. I'm going to die! I'm going to die! I'm going to die!

Draco and Morrigan stood next to each other, staring up at the sky, ex- Death Eaters side by side. Once, Morrigan might have been part of that massive group of confident madmen and women.. And as she watched the overgrown bats and soulless creatures of darkness swoop closer, she realized that never had she felt more willing to die for something, and never before had she felt more sure that she was in the right place. Not just right for her, she realized, but right for the whole world.

Her eyes searched the crowd, coming to a rest on Harry's messy black-haired head. He was the man of destiny, the Boy Who Lived. In twenty-four hours, he would be the Boy Who Defeated the Darkest Wizard of All Time, or the Boy Who Died. How horrible it must be, she thought, to have this pressure on his shoulders. Ultimately, he decided who lived or died. Morrigan wanted so much to take him in her arms and hold him. This was a strange matronly feeling, but she felt that not enough people had done that to Harry. All his life he had been alone. He had been a hero for something he could not remember, the victim of abuse, and a celebrity of immense proportions.

For all these things that Harry could not change, even if he wanted.

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. She would need her mental blocks up now more than ever. She didn't want anyone such as Voldemort seeking her out. Of course, the Dark Lord would be preoccupied with killing Harry, but she knew how great his vengeance was, and it would be typical of him to seek her out and crush her once and for all--his greatest disappointment.

It happened so quickly. In an instant, the mass of Death Eaters dived and jumped off their brooms, instantly shooting curses in every direction. Morrigan had lost sight of the Dark Lord, but she began battling immediately with some unknown wizard that had most likely been recruited recently.

He was overconfident. He no doubt knew her, as he was intent not on killing her, but torturing her. Every time she repelled his curse, he tried again. It was becoming tedious, and finally she flicked her wand and he fell to the ground, writhing and screaming. It had been awhile since she had thus used the Cruciatus. Her fervor wasn't too great. It had once been easier to hurt people. It no longer held any attraction for her.

She stopped and Stunned him, telling herself she wouldn't use the Cruciatus again.

"Oh, you won't?" said a voice in her ear, and she whirled around, face to face with the serpent face that had haunted her. "Morrigan, I am surprised at you," Voldemort said amusedly. "You picked your hobby and stuck with it. Now that is commitment for you. LEGILIMENS!"

Her mind was instantly struck by the strongest battering ram she had ever felt. Her walls crumbled weakly and immediately her mind was open to Voldemort. An experienced Legilimens, he quickly rifled through her memories, looking for something, but she didn't know what. She was conscious that she had fallen on the ground, and she was pounding at her head with her fists to get him out. He made her feel dirty and slimy.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, finding the memory of Draco shouting in her face. He watched it with interest, feeling, too, her emotions.

"You love him," Voldemort laughed at her quietly. "You'd die for him. Who could have imagined?"

Morrigan screamed something unintelligible.

"Yes, yes, my dear. Would you like to know a secret?" He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Your beloved's father murdered your father."

Morrigan screamed.

Ginny saw out of the corner of her eye what was happening, and she smiled to herself. She understands now.

A part of her felt guilty, though. For some reason, the shame of not saving Hermione's favorite project and Draco Malfoy's adored was almost overwhelming. In fact, she realized that it was overwhelming. In the most compassionate movement of her young life, Ginny forgot every hate-filled thought, ran between individuals, pointed her wand at Lord Voldemort--the man who had once possessed her--and cast the best Bat-Bogey Hex ever. With a bellow, Voldemort stopped everything to try slap at his face with angry hands. Ginny swept in and helped a shaky Morrigan to her feet. They both sprinted in the other direction, eager to get away. Morrigan tried to catch her breath, but instead found that she was fighting someone else, another Death Eater she didn't know.

Ginny fought beside her the entire time, although she didn't need to help Morrigan again. Morrigan hastily reconstructed her mental wall, trying not to think about Lucius Malfoy having destroyed her father and dooming her. The main difficulty with this was that Draco must have known. He had been very protective of his father to Morrigan, and there was no reason besides the knowledge of her father's murderer.

She scowled at the woman attacking her ferociously, her thoughts half on Draco, half on the battle.

Across the field, Harry was battling Bellatrix, while Ron and Hermione were busy with Rodolphus and Augustus Rookwood.

"Come, Potter, surely you can do better than that!" Bellatrix taunted, her words reminiscent of Sirius'. She must have known this would kindle the fire in Harry. She could not possibly know that Harry's control of his anger had risen to an entirely new level. With control comes power, and Harry's anger could now be harnessed constructively.

"Crucio!" Harry bellowed, and the curse hit Bellatrix square between the eyes. Her jeering face turned to that of a hideous hag, screaming. She fell to the ground, her body writhing in agony.

Harry released the curse and with all the power his voice could muster, he yelled, "Avada Kedavra!" Surprising himself and all those around him, the green jet of light flew from his wand and stopped Bellatrix's evil forever.

Harry turned to help Ron and Hermione, but came face to face with a livid Voldemort, whose back was curled downward in rage. "You will not leave here alive, Potter!" he screamed.

Harry smirked up at the creature. "We shall see."

The battle that then ensued would be remembered by all surviving witnesses. It was short, and bittersweet. Harry was surrounded on all sides by friends and admirers, each battling their own adversary. Still, Harry could feel their support, and he was grateful for it, down in his very core.

Harry's eyes flickered over at Ginny on the other side of the field. She was, oddly, smiling. Odder still, Morrigan was battling beside her ,and she, too, was smiling. He was brought back to Voldemort, who was smiling wickedly. He pointed behind Harry and sent a jet of green life arching toward Moody. It hit the man before Harry knew what to expect.

Another friend dead, he thought, because of me.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Harry screamed, his wand pointed at Voldemort.

This moment was anticlimactic and at the same time so thrilling that Harry could feel his blood pulsing magnificently in his ears. Voldemort's body went rigid and hung suspended in the air for a moment, just like Dumbledore's had done, before it fell lifeless to the ground. The battle went on around Harry, and yet, as he stepped over Voldemort's corpse, he couldn't hear any of it.

It was all done. His parents' murderer (and the murderer of so many, many people, as well) was dead and brought to justice. He didn't know what Voldemort had to anticipate in death, but Harry could almost guarantee it wouldn't be pleasant.

The sounds of battle slowly ebbed as one by one, the different groups stopped and looked at Voldemort and Harry in shock. Death Eater and non walked slowly forward into a large group of people to stare down at the dead creature on the ground. A great cry went out and every person, even the Death Eaters, raised up a cry of such heart-wrenching joy that Harry felt tears cloud his eyes.

It was over. All over.

* * *

Harry followed Lucretia Flint around the bodies on the lawns of Hogwarts, identifying those he could.

"And this one...?" she asked, pointing down at a grizzled man in shabby robes.

With a cry, Harry fell to his feet, his hands pulling Lupin's dead body into his arms. How could he be dead? "Who killed him?" he cried aloud.

"Pettigrew did," a soft voice said, and Harry looked up to see Tonks standing alone a few feet away, staring at Harry blankly.

"Where is he?" Harry choked.

"I killed him," Tonks intoned lifelessly. "I felt--I just began to do the Cruciatus on him. I'd never done that before. Never. Then I couldn't take any more revenge and I killed him."

Harry's jaw dropped, but Tonks turned away and walked toward the forest. Harry thought maybe he should go after her, but he realized it was probably time to leave her alone.

All the Marauders are dead, Harry realized sadly. Every one murdered. He stood up, thinking of the important deaths. Remus, Alastor, Doge, and even Professor Flitwick had been killed in this battle. Luckily, Rodolphus Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback, Snape, and Wormtail were dead, too. Harry sighed tiredly.

For some reason, he felt that he wasn't going to get any more rest, even though Voldemort was dead.