Mark of Ancients

Chapter 17: THE END OF A LEGEND

    The wave of cold, bone-chilling, skin-freezing cold filled the air. Harry couldn't move, numb and frozen to the spot, floating, the ground threatening to meet him. Dementors were never this strong. He let himself sink slowly to the ground in the case that he did lose consciousness so the fall wouldn't be too great. Falling down... farther... he felt his insides drown in an ocean of freezing water as his vision became nothing more than white blurs. Screams from the crowd turned into a strong, loud rush of water only to be topped by Lily screaming louder and clearer than she ever had, so loud his hands left his broom and covered his ears.

    "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead --"

    Harry's legs slipped off the Dragonback and he let out what he swore was a cry but he heard nothing but the screams in his head. Ravenous, mad laughter mixed itself in.

    "Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now..."

    The white blurs became thicker, mistier and swirled their way into his head, clouding it, pounding it, causing the grip on his ears to move upwards, Harry now gripping his head. A final searing pain pounded in his brain like a mallet smashing his skull and the last he saw was the ground rushing up to him frighteningly fast.

    "GET UP!" someone shouted, standing over him. Harry's eyes opened in an instant. Ron was standing over him and dropped a piece of chocolate on top of him. "EAT IT AND BACK TO THE CASTLE!" Ron stretched an arm out and Harry grabbed it, feeling every part of him sore and aching, then pulled himself up, grabbing the chocolate. He wharfed it down as Ron put a hand on his back, pushed, and ran full on back to the castle.

    "My broom-" started Harry but,

    "Forget the broom, Harry! Voldemort crashed our game with a load of dementors!" Harry looked back. A swarm of dementors and Death Eaters were pouring out of thin air, their skin glowing. No one can Apparate to Hogwarts with the enchantments, at least, not unless you have the mark of ancients -- a fact which Harry and Dumbledore neglected in their wonder of how Voldemort would plan to arrive.

    Harry turned around, running backwards, looking where his Dragonback lie, pulled out his wand from inside his robes and shouted "Accio!" The Dragonback was in perfect condition and flew right into his outstretched hand.

    "Wait," said Harry, suddenly stopping. It was Ron's turn to get a sharp hand on the back. They both turned around. Dumbledore and other teachers had taken to attacking the Death Eaters.

    "Should we help?" asked Harry.

    "What are you, nuts?" Ron looked at Harry like he had just grown three more arms. "Oh no!" he then said.

    "What?"

    "HERMIONE!" Ron clutched Harry's hand arm and ran back to the stands. One Death Eater managed to whizz a Crucio just over Ron's head before they found Hermione hiding and tearing under some seats.

    "This almost makes me wish I didn't give up the mark of ancients," said Harry hastily as they tried to look for a safer way to get out, when,

    "AUGH!" Harry turned around to find Lucius Malfoy, grinning, wand raised, Ron in total pain and writhing, under the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. Harry thought of nothing better to do than to put a hand over Ron's mouth.

    "Draconus iciclia!" Harry cried. His wand gave off nothing more than a puff of ice.

    "It's useless!" shrieked Hermione. "The mark helped you use that spell! Without it, it's not going to work!"

    "Look at him, I have to do something!" Ron continued to writhe and roll, shouting and screaming, banging his fists all over.

    "Give me the Dragonback," said Hermione, looking like she had a plan.

    "What for?"

    "Give it here," she ordered. Hermione pulled out her wand, chucked the broom in the air and shouted "Wingardium Leviosa!" Her eyes became cold as ice, staring at Lucius like gum on the bottom of her shoe. The Dragonback soared towards Lucius, hitting him square between the eyes. His wand dropped, releasing Ron from the Cruciatus Curse. Ron moaned several more times before Harry dared to put a finger near him. The Dragonback flew into Harry's hand.

    "I don't like that spell," croaked Ron, still shaking.

    "Trust me," Harry assured him, "neither do I."

    "Well what do we do?" asked Hermione. "Run for it or try to kill someone then run for it?"

    "I like that attitude," said Ron.

    "You're in awfully good sp - PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE!" screamed Harry. A Death Eater had gotten him into the unmistakable state of Cruciatus. McGonagall and Snape stood near him, firing off their own spells and curses, hitting quite a few Death Eaters, causing their bodies to fill with boils and what had to be leeches crawling under their skin. Ron looked amazed at one potion Snape threw, causing a huge explosion, sending Death Eater and dementor alike flying high into the air, landing with a hard crunch. Harry then panicked again.

    "Where's Cho and Fleur?" he gulped.

    "Relax," said Hermione, breathing heavily, "I saw Cho running with a bunch of Ravenclaws. They're in the castle. Fleur never came outside."

    "Come on then," said Harry, grabbing both Ron and Hermione.

    "You're not going to try to help them?" gasped Ron.

    "We have to," said Harry, his voice quivering, yet slightly confident.

    Down the Quidditch stands they went, students were still leaking out of them. Ron and Hermione looked away as one Hufflepuff had been blasted to smithereens by Clades Ultimus, cast by none other than Voldemort. It was more like playing dodge ball, without balls of your own to throw, as they made their way down the stands towards Professor Dumbledore. Sprout had managed to toss a huge plant, barring great big teeth, onto the Death Eater holding Dumbledore in Cruciatus. The wizard, as big and wide as Hagrid, flailed his arms madly, shaking the plant off, revealing a cut in his arm the size of Harry's wrist. He fell to the ground dead.

    "Infernus Grandis Inflamora!" Harry heard Dumbledore shout. A fire, bigger than Harry ever conjured, roared from a volcanic crack in the ground, lifting up his target several feet in the air. Lava poured out the top of the crack, searing and singing anyone and anything caught in its path. Steady streams of flames billowed out of Dumbledore's wand, leaving the unlucky one to get hit by it nothing more than a pile of dust.

    At the same instant, Hermione screamed as Professor Vector was caught in fire, engulfing him from head to toe, much larger than the flames from Dumbledore. Professor Dumbledore put out the fire and managed to prevent Professor Vector's very unfortunate death.

    Harry scowled, staring blankly to the right of Trelawney at the hooded figure that had to be Voldemort. All the times he wished Trelawney fall dead were whisked away by the sight of the ashes of Professor Vector's clothing -- he ran full on the castle. Hermione shrieked once more as a green light bounced off a metal bar dangerously closed to herself.

    The three of them went back to hiding in Hermione's original position, figuring it was safer until a few more of the Death Eaters had died out. A small amount of hope came in the form of a huge Patronus jumping out of the wands of Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. Dumbledore's Patronus was the figure of a humongous version of Fawkes, towering over the heads of any witch or wizard currently fighting for their life. Professor McGonagall's came in the form of a gorgeous cat with a thick, healthy coat of fur. It scowled evilly in the direction of various dementors, causing them Disapparate where they stood. The two Patronus' rid the area of any dementors and just Death Eaters, droves and droves of them, remained - at least thirty to the Hogwarts' staff of fourteen.

    "D'you think they're going to win?" asked Ron.

    "Who," said Harry, breathing heavily (and noticing that Ron and Hermione were, too), "us or them?"

    The look on Ron's face showed clearly he was asking himself the same thing.

    "Remedium impluo!" shrieked Dumbledore. A grand, puffy white cloud materialized over the heads of Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape. It showered them with fine drops of white rain. Harry recognized this as the healing shower Dumbledore had mentioned in Paladism.

    Their faces looked poised to get rid of more Death Eaters - and fight them off, they did. There were no doubts Dumbledore could rival Voldemort's power but he had to ask himself, how much more powerful did the mark of ancients make him? Were it not for mad ducking and dodging, the clash would be over. From both sides, they were all able to quickly dodge the Killing Curse. One particular Death Eater ate Snape's Light of Faith and Dumbledore led five away to be killed by Clades Ultimus.

    Hagrid could be seen wrestling them to the ground, slapping their wands away. He used small fire charms via his umbrella to put their wand hand out of commission. It was all very effective.

    Harry glared at the hooded figure of Voldemort and noticed Michelle was no where to be found. Voldemort gazed around, looking for someone.

    Harry wished it never happened. Voldemort stared directly at him, his wand standing out like a weapon of mass destruction in his clammy hand, gripped between oddly long fingers. Harry gulped deeply as Voldemort walked broodingly over, chuckling under his breath. He was glad Ron and Hermione had not noticed but the gladness was stripped away momentarily.

    "Harry Potter!" called Voldemort in an odd we-are-best-friends voice. Ron and Hermione's heads whipped violently to the direction of the sound. They were rooted to the ground and Harry felt Hermione's fingernails puncture his cloak. He turned to look at their faces, and, as he had expected, they were livid with terror.

    "GO!" Harry ordered to them, trying to pry Hermione's hand off. "RUN!" He wished he hadn't said that as they scurried off, straight towards Dumbledore who had managed to chase away several more Death Eaters. Hermione pointed a finger at Harry. He watched, panicking, as Dumbledore broke into a run.

    "Pathetic," said Voldemort softly as he trapped Dumbledore in vines as if he were just a fly. Voldemort's skin glowed smoky-quartz black, aiding the sun's lack of presence in ridding the area of light. It seemed to suck the light out of anything, including the enchanted, burning candles atop the stands. Voldemort's attention turned to Harry again. What small courage he had entered the situation with seemed to grow little by little and he decided to stand up, straight-backed and proud, the way his father died.

    "Valiant attempts, you make, Harry. This time I made sure you couldn't escape. I tried and failed this summer with mind games. You lasted through it all and I'm quite impressed. All it took was a little playing with your heart, some trickery on the eyes and it all worked as I expected. I was hoping, however, for Michelle to do her job as I demanded and change Dumbledore's mind about removing the mark of ancients."

    Michelle... Potter?

    "You look surprised, boy!" Voldemort was now climbing the stands.

    "She's my sister, why would she do that?" said Harry trembling. Voldemort's mad laugh filled the air.

    "She's no sister of yours. 'Michelle' is Thantanos Brev's own sister. I'm quite proud of that story, her being an Auror, running frightened from me. Touching, isn't it? What little of your blood I stole during the summer was enough to provide one of my faithfuls with enough of the mark to extend her magic ability greatly. The memory charms, so powerful, worked excellently on Dumbledore!"

    "What about my parents? Huh? How were their spirits tricked?" Harry felt his teeth grinding almost painfully. He was currently glad there was no pain from his scar just yet.

    "Easy. Spirits are just spirits. Foresight works wonders on the ethereal." Harry now ignored the screams from below. A fresh river of hatred filled his veins. Voldemort need not turn around to see Hagrid running towards them, fists clenched, teeth bared, as he, too became wrapped in vines.

    The truth then hit Harry like Hagrid's fist to a Death Eater's face. His sister was a lie. Harry had been so happy, so calm and so open to the girl he swore was part of his family but it was just a joke. How could he believe such an outlandish story? Don't stand for the ridicule, Harry thought to himself. Instinctively, Harry closed his eyes and clasped his hands, as if the mark of ancients was still in him. He prayed for a small burst of glitter, some ray of hope.

    "Parcere meus vita, parcere meus anima," he began to chant. Voldemort's laughing caused a small tingle in his scar but it did not hamper his words.

    "Why do you bother?"

    "Accio potentia caeles intus veneficus adfirmo!"

    "It's not going to work, Harry."

    "Adiumentum meus via!"

    "Removed, Harry! It's gone. My precious, at least you'll go out the way James would have liked."

    "YOU SHOUT UP ABOUT MY PARENTS!" Harry roared. The anger that filled him grew with each passing moment, much like the blue haze from Clades Ultimus. "Parcere meus vita, parcere meus anima." He again ignored the louder laughing erupting from the insane wizard in front of him.

    "Stop now," said Voldemort calmly, "and I'll spare the lives of the ones cheering for you." Harry's scar broke into a piercing pain on the likes of fingernails hard digging into it. He winced, eyes pressing hard, not letting it bother him. "Elicio bestia balrog," said Voldemort coolly.

    Harry's eyes glanced open to see a huge creature, towering over the very castle of Hogwarts. It was a larger version of the balrog that came out of the mirror, big, red and covered with fire. The horns on its head were thicker than Harry's entire body. They curled around from the center of the back of its head to the front, making eye brows as it ended just over the eyes which were pure black. The skin was mostly fire and any black skin that showed was nor charred nor burning and it did not look like it was in pain in this condition. It roared once, causing the very ground to rumble.

    This, Harry guessed, was a fully grown balrog. It advanced threateningly on Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall. Harry's immediate reaction was to run... run away and help but Voldemort was a more immediate danger.

    "Addere ultimus clades ad parcere nullus altera!" Harry shouted and opened his eyes. A low rumble cracked the air and Harry's skin glowed perfect white, lighting up the night sky like the sun. It lasted a short second and faded so quickly Harry knew it would not help him if he needed it. The mark of ancients was gone. Voldemort's mad laughter echoed painfully in his ears and he pushed Harry off the top of the stands.

    His back cracked hard against the ground, his hands outstretched in a feeble attempt to break the fall. Surely, several bones had broken. Voldemort jumped, landing light as air, next to him.

    "What... do you want... with me..." asked Harry.

    His body felt brittle all over. There were cuts on his hands so large that if they weren't tended to, he would surely bleed to death. Deafening, terrible, bloody screams echoed in the air from where Dumbledore and the others were standing. He dare not think of how their end was.

    For a fleeting moment, Thantanos and Michelle, if that were their real names, were standing where he was just a moment ago. Michelle's lip curled into what was an unmistakable "I'm sorry," and her faced was shaped into such a sincere way that Harry could not help but think she truly was. It didn't matter. What Voldemort had her and Thantanos do was already finished. Harry would have to enjoy his last moments, if that were at all possible...

    "What are you staring at?" asked Voldemort. He turned his head in the direction Harry was looking. Michelle and Thantanos were gone. "Crucio," said Voldemort softly and coldly. If the pains weren't bad enough, the new pain was worse. Harry immediately recalled the time he had used the mark to cast the Cruciatus Curse on Thantanos. One long, inhuman, earsplitting and bloody scream was all it took to put him out of consciousness. Harry let out similar screams, only louder. The pain was comparable to having the weight of the balrog standing on him, digging its humongous claws deep inside his forehead and then ripping it in two. To add insult to injury, his scar exploded in agony. Blood slowly leaked out from it, soaking his hands.

    "I want you dead, Harry Potter," said Voldemort nonchalantly to Harry, still holding him in the curse as he knelt down, "because I want what you had and I don't want you getting it back. Dead or alive, I could get it but you have been quite the tricky one to kill. By removing it from yourself you've only limited my power. You'll still die." He raised his wand. Harry rolled on the floor, recoiling and trying to regain his senses from the most powerful and painful feeling he had ever come across. Blood continued to leak out from his scar as it continued to hurt.

    "That happy scar you bear," said Voldemort, holding Harry still and parting his bangs and to reveal it, "is a reminder of my foolishness... nothing more." Voldemort let go and Harry stopped rolling and lay flat-backed on the ground, staring upwards at the face that haunted his dreams for four years and the face that caused him, for fourteen years, to relive the horror of his parents' death. Despite the terrible pain in the scar, Harry could not move. With one snap of Voldemort's fingers, Harry could tell they were in the forest, the black, far more treacherous forest he and Ron flew over on the Dragonback.

    "No one will find your body," said Voldemort. "No one will find your dead and decaying body. You're dead, Harry." Harry felt his stomach lurch and grumble. He wanted to stand up and fight but his limbs were too weak.

    He lay paralyzed, pinned to the ground, unable to stare at anything but the sky. What happened tortured his mind. His friends were dead, his parents' memory was scalded and the worst feeling of all, perhaps, was the trickery on his heart of the one he thought he could love like a sister. He wished dreams would remove him from the trap, a sharp sting in his scar. Harry couldn't help but think there was more to her and Thantanos.

    "Avada Kedavra!" shouted Voldemort, wand pointed at Harry. Harry would never find out. The green light hit its mark.