The War of Shades

Chapter 57 The Final Showdown

Voldemort ran out from the house, yelling at Neville, the only one immediately in sight, "You have lost me my servant, boy!"

Before Voldemort had even drawn his wand, Harry apparated in front of Neville and, with an easy smile, called out like he was meeting a neighbor, "Hello, Tom, long time, no see."

The rest, including Neville, immediately ducked behind the petrified dementors. Voldemort was visibly shaken at Harry's presence and calm manner.

"Potter! How is it we aren't seeing into each other's minds? The spell is not completed until one of us is dead."

Harry knew enough not to tell him the whole answer, so he pleasantly replied, "I decided to close my mind to you. But if it makes you feel better about the spell, I can still see into your mind. I knew you were asleep, I knew that you were worried, and I knew that you hadn't warned your pet that you could no longer see into my mind. AND I know that you are afraid."

Voldemort glared at him, peering intently, trying as hard as he could to use the legilemency he was so accustomed to relying on. Harry gave him the chance to try and smiled benignly. Harry could feel Voldemort's reaction as he tried to look into Harry's mind - it hurt like trying to look into a floodlight.

Realizing his efforts were futile, Voldemort said, "Potter, we've just fought - neither gained the upper hand - why did you come here? Did you think there was something to negotiate?"

"Hmm - a magical contract perhaps? My uncle used to laugh that contracts were made to be broken, and that they only last as long as both sides prefer what they are getting out of them to the alternative. I know you all too well, Tom; you are resourceful enough to find a way to break the charms of a magical contract and go back to your old ways. Besides, we haven't all that much time as separate beings. All too soon, what separation there is will collapse."

"Then why are you here - we're matched. Neither can kill the other, it seems."

"We fought to a draw before because we could each see each other's thoughts and act in anticipation. Now only I see into your mind, so I have the advantage." Harry paused to let the affect of that change in circumstances sink in. "But you needn't be so afraid - I'm not here to kill you: I'm here to help you."

"What do you mean by that, Potter?" hissed Voldemort, very obviously rattled.

"You've been sick for a long time, Tom. You have been filled with hatred ever since you discovered you were a wizard stuck in a muggle orphanage because your father rejected your mother for being a witch. I understand that: I hated the muggle home I was raised in, too. But now I don't. I understand that they fear magic. And I forgive and accept them for who they are. I was lucky enough to find friends and counselors that helped me see beyond the hate: for whatever reason you were not open to such help. Now I have come to heal you of your hatred."

"You still think there are such things as 'hatred' and 'love'? You fool! There is only self: when you have power, you take what you want, use whom you have a use for; when you don't have sufficient power, you protect yourself until you have the power to destroy those who would stop you. To think otherwise is vain. Go then with your sentimentality and leave me alone."

"You know I can't do that, Tom," said Harry quietly. "You have hurt people, and left to your ways, you will continue to. You will continue to try to find ways to kill me, and I don't approve. I do not desire to destroy you, but I will cure the sickness in your heart."

Voldemort screamed, "There's nothing wrong that killing you won't cure!"

Voldemort flicked his wand at Harry's feet and a chasm opened up, but before it had even begun to open, Harry had apparated behind him.

"Nice, one, Tom. Some of my friends used that today on your soldiers. But I knew what you were going to do. Relax and let me heal you."

Voldemort disapparated to a nearby rock and summoned stones on the other side of Harry, but Harry had already conjured a magical shield which deflected all the rocks over Harry to where Voldemort had gone. He in turn disapparated out of the way.

"This is futile, Tom. Relax and let me heal you."

Next, Harry was attacked with a rapid succession of deadly or disabling curses. Harry reflected those that could be back at Voldemort, and converted or disapparated effortlessly out of the way of the rest. As Voldemort scurried to avoid his own reflected curses and to locate Harry to send another curse at him, Harry laughed gently at the efforts. After a reflected cutting curse caught the edge of his leg, Voldemort paused, panting heavily.

"You're bleeding, Tom," observed Harry sympathetically. There wasn't a hint of taunt or sarcasm to the comment, nothing to say other than genuine concern. "Relax and let me heal you."

"Half-blood scum!"

Harry chuckled. "No more than you, but I'm stronger in that I don't consider it to be a matter to be ashamed of. Let me heal you of that as well."

Then Harry felt Voldemort searching for a weakness and thinking naturally of Harry's friends. It would be hard for Harry to protect them, even though he knew the attacks as soon as they were thought of.

"Get off the island!" Harry screamed to his friends.

Voldemort fired an explosive charm just offshore from where the others were, and the explosion sent an enormous wave toward them that would either dash them against the rocks or wash them out to sea. But they were quick and resourceful as well. Some of them used Wingardium Leviosa to lift parts of the wall of water so it passed above them, letting it crash on the far side. Others used Thermo to vaporize other parts into steam. Ted Nott ignored the wave and wound an arm around a petrified dementor's arm to avoid being washed away as he shouted "Petrificus Totalis" and aimed his wand at Voldemort.

Voldemort dodged the spell and advanced on Nott. They were too close to each other for Harry to block the spell when he aimed his wand and hissed "Avada Kedavra." However, Harry had sent a spell to animate a petrified dementor even before the killing curse had been pronounced and it stepped protectively in front of Nott, intercepting the curse just in time. The dementor began to shimmer and evaporate, releasing all of the souls it had ever extracted from their bodies. The souls were rather ghostlike, and yet they were more substantial as they were first released and began to fade as they went on to their proper existence. As each was released from the dementor, it got a joyous look of relief on its face and then rushed toward Voldemort, who showed his growing terror with each one, before each disappeared.

The wave conquered, the others each took cover behind a dementor, carefully keeping an eye on Voldemort as the souls rushed at him. As the destroyed dementor finally evaporated completely, Tonks snapped her fingers, and then pointed her wand toward Voldemort, shouting "Expecto Patronum."

Tonks's sheep charged at Voldemort, jumping at him. Within seconds the others had also cast their patronuses, which surrounded Voldemort, leaping and flapping at him, blocking his vision and his wand. As soon as he destroyed one with a spell it would be replaced. Harry approached and was allowed by the patronuses to get close enough to begin the healing process. As the green light began to fall on Voldemort, Harry could feel Voldemort seeking deep in the most convoluted recesses of his mind. Harry had never seen a need to explore this portion, but Voldemort had stored a thought magically sealed out of conscious ken which was designed to elicit fear and loathing in Harry, to raise his most visceral and instinctive feelings and resentments. It was stored so as to cause a reflexive response, like an instinct - an action bypassing conscious thought so Harry could not prepare for it.

Voldemort apparated to the low rise from which Harry had overseen the petrification of the dementors, and Harry followed, so that he was facing his friends as well, as he attempted to continue the healing. The patronuses, too, gave chase. Voldemort dropped to his knees and screamed, "Forgive me, Master Severus, I have failed you!"

Harry was momentarily stunned, frozen by the doubt in his mind that perhaps Snape was the true Dark Lord and Voldemort just his servant. Voldemort seized the opportunity - he wheeled around shouting "Avada Kedavra" and pointed his wand at Harry. The bright green spell shot from his wand and as it reached Harry, every one of the raiding party groaned and collapsed, many passing out. However, instead of striking Harry, the spell stopped and held.

At first the green light of the spell held stationary between Voldemort's wand and Harry's chest and then it climbed up both their bodies until it was a bright green rope connecting both by their foreheads, passing right through Harry's scar. As it rose it became filled with scintillations that had come out of both of them, and they both realized that this was the power they shared. The Avada Kedavra curse cast over sixteen years earlier was now going to complete itself. They must vie for control of the shared power. And so they both focused their minds on pulling it to them.

They strained and tugged with all their will and might, and at first nothing happened. Then the scintillations started to shift. They started to flow, very slowly at first, toward Voldemort. Harry pulled ever more desperately but they continued their inexorable flow to Voldemort. He felt himself being crushed down, even as he struggled with all the strength of his mind and spirit. Harry tried thinking of the people he loved, but it did not give him the extra strength he needed.

The morning twilight started to give Harry a view of the island, and he noticed all his friends still cowering behind the dementors, peeping out. He was sickened that they had not fled and he wanted to scream out to them to escape, but he could not. He started to look at them, but then he caught himself. He could not bear to look at them: he realized that they must be filled with terror and he was too weak to suppress legilemency. He couldn't bear to look.

"And so should they be," he heard Voldemort thinking with a chuckle. "Yes, Potter, your defense is broken. You are filled with fear now and I see your plan. Your friends should be filled with terror, for I will punish them most severely for their defiance of me. Those that can submit to my Imperius may be allowed to live, after suitable chastisement. I need new servants after all. The rest will be killed - after they have suffered suitably. How they must loathe you, Potter, for leading them to this horrible fate. It is, after all, what awaits all who defy me - your parents, the Prewetts, the Longbottoms, the Boneses, that goblin tribe, so many, many more who have received what is the true reward of those who refuse me. Let's take a look, shall we? You are facing them - read their fear!"

"No," Harry shouted in his mind, "I won't!"

But he could not resist. He was too weak from all that he had lost. Voldemort took control of his body and forced him to look at his friends and read their feelings. There Harry saw it - yes, there was terror, terror such as he had never seen, terror without bottom - but it was not at all the terror or hatred Harry expected, and there was something else.

When Harry realized the nature of their fears, he suddenly understood. Then Harry felt a hand supporting him, not by any one part of his body, not even his body so much as his soul. Harry heard a voice ringing through him.

"Come," the voice said. It was neither male nor female, neither old nor young. Harry couldn't even say that 'hearing' was the right word to describe how he received it.

"Who are you?"

"The word Counselor will do, or perhaps Guide."

"A guide? For whom?"

"For you," the voice answered mirthfully.

"Then from whom?" thought Harry.

"From all that is. Come."

"I'd really like to, but I'm rather busy here, fighting Voldemort."

"You cannot do it by yourself. Let me take your burden."

"But ... I 'm supposed to vanquish him."

The voice of the guide laughed gently. "Fret not, Harry, and be not vain. If it is to be, it will be through you, but you need help. Everyone does. Your friends have helped you this far. Now you need my help. At this moment, all things are possible. Accept that you need help. You have fallen into the trap that ensnares so many of those who come so far on the path of practicing love: you have learned to help others, but not to accept help. You have heard 'It is more blessed to give than to receive,' and it is so, and you have given of yourself magnificently. But it is also blessed to receive, when you have needs. It is prideful to deny you have needs and it deprives those others who would do so of the blessings of giving what they can. Martyrdom is only good when there is no other good choice. Let me relieve you of your burden."

Still Harry hesitated and the voice said, "Let go. It is time."

Harry began to relax and he felt the crushing burden of Voldemort bearing down on him lifted. It felt to Harry that the Guide had taken it from him as lightly and lovingly as a parent pulling back covers in a crib to lift a newborn infant. Harry allowed himself to be taken where the voice would have him go. He felt himself leaving his body behind; no, not quite leaving it - expanding beyond it. He expanded beyond the snake-headed man he had been struggling against; he expanded beyond his friends and the island where they all huddled together in terror: he expanded beyond the sea and the Earth. As he expanded, he encompassed them. He lost all bearing.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Nowhere really, or rather everywhere. To show you things, the things you should see."

Everything around Harry had become totally black as he had expanded and then as his eyes - or rather, he thought, it must be his mind - adjusted, he began to see a gauziness all around him and through him. It was very dim and insubstantial, but had a definite presence nonetheless. Then as he adjusted more, he began to see innumerable splendid, shining threads thinner than gossamer, more fine and profusely interconnected than the axons of brain cells. He knew, though he did not know how he knew, that this was something infinitely precious.

The voice explained, "Beings reach out to each other and connect with each other, some intensely with a few others, some to very many. On the spiritual plane, such connections are tangible. Beings' very reality and existence in the end depends on their connections with each other.'

"But, if these are the connections between beings, then at the ends, there must be ..." began Harry, as he followed one group of strands to their terminus, and found a tiny pinpoint of light. Then looking through it all, he began to see all the little dots of light throughout. They were rather like the stars he had seen as they landed on the island, but they were vastly, vastly more numerous and somehow he knew they were more substantial and far more precious.

"Souls?" he asked, to confirm his perception.

"Yes, souls - of all the beings, where the essence of creation runs stronger and brighter," said the voice. "Look over there."

Harry saw one such pinpoint of light which appeared to be connected to more than any others he had noticed. It was no brighter than any others, but it heartened Harry to see it so thoroughly connected to so many others. Then his attention was drawn to one particular thread running from it, a thread that was somehow more beautiful and precious than all the others. It led a terribly long distance to another pinpoint of light, no brighter or dimmer than any of the others, although it stood out prominently for being so distantly separated from the others. Harry perceived that it was receding at a tremendous pace and the thread was stretching behind it. It filled Harry with a profound sense of sadness.

"Who ...?"

"Tom Riddle."

"He only reaches out to one person?"

"No, Harry. He reaches out to no one. Only one person would reach out to him."

"Only one would ...? Then that one is ..." Harry was glancing back toward the very-interconnected point.

"Yes, Harry. That is you - you have reached out in care to everyone - friend and foe alike."

Harry looked back to Voldemort's pinpoint, barely flickering. "What will happen to him?"

"Even now, you care? But of course, I knew you did. If you die, he will lose any connection. He will simply cease. He will not go on, nor return to the Source. He will simply end."

Harry looked toward Tom Riddle's pinpoint and felt immeasurable pity. And before his eyes, the thread disconnected and the pinpoint winked out. Harry suddenly felt himself shrinking. He lost sight of the threads, and the pinpoints, and the gauziness; he shrank down and down until he found himself back in his own body, lying on the ridge of the island. The warm sunshine felt good; the jagged rocks he lay on hurt him, the moist drops falling on his face soothed him. It was good to feel.

Harry's head was turned to the side. He barely opened his eyes a slit. Every fiber of his body was aching and it hurt to move anything, even so much as his eyelids. Hermione was leaning over him, crying. He could hear others around crying as well. With effort, he forced his hand to move a bit. The edge of Hermione's robe was over his hand, so he caught the edge of it and gave a feeble tug. She started to look toward it and gasped.

"I'm thirsty," Harry feebly rasped. It hurt to even breathe enough to say this, or to move his tongue and lips to make the words.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed joyously and threw herself on him, kissing him all around his face. The others, too, started screaming and piling on to celebrate. Every muscle and joint in Harry's body felt like it would snap and be ground to powder, but Harry accepted it. He could take some pain for the people he loved.

Once the hubbub had calmed a bit, Harry was able to whisper, "Where is he?"

"Harry," answered Hermione, "after you collapsed, the spell kept going for what seemed the longest time. But all of a sudden, he just disappeared. Several of us ran up here. I started checking your pulse and your breath and I couldn't find anything."

"I checked where he had been," said Ron, "but all I could find in his robes was his wand, a few bones, a shriveled hand missing a finger, and some brown dust."

Harry rasped sadly, "I thought I could still heal him."

Ron laughed, and then said with both admiration and a little exasperation, "You know, Harry, it took Dumbledore until he was over 100 to get that crazy."

Harry forced a weak smile. "I must be in the NEWT class in insanity."

"Harry, can you get up?" asked Remus. "I can't believe you're comfortable lying on those rocks."

"Give me a hand, gently," said Harry, as Remus and Dean Thomas bent and took Harry's hands and slowly pulled him upward. Harry was unsteady on his feet and grasped Remus's robe to steady himself.

"You were thirsty?" asked Dawkins, holding a canteen he had brought with him, then raising it to Harry's lips for him when Harry nodded.

"How do you come by that, Dawkins?" asked Tonks.

"I was a Boy Scout - 'Be prepared.' My parents are muggles, and they only agreed to Hogwarts if I promised to stick with scouting during summers and holidays."

"Glad to hear it," said Harry, a bit clearer now. He stretched his body enough that he became able to reach up and grasp the canteen for himself, and continued to drink deeply.

"I'm sorry if anyone else needed some," said Harry, after he had finished it. "I was so thirsty." Then Harry looked around to his friends. "We have to get Lestrange back to the Ministry. Tonks, she's your kin: how about you and Remus taking her?"

"It was bad enough playing HIM last night," she replied, then added with a sigh, "but I owe you too much to say no."

Then Fred and George, who had been whispering and giggling in the back stepped forward, and George said, "We'll get her back to Hogwarts, Harry. From there the aurors can collect her by Floo."

"Why am I suspicious of offers from you two? You'll get her to Hogwarts?"

They nodded.

"In one piece?"

They nodded.

"You're not going to DO anything to her?"

"Harry, if you can't trust us who can you trust?" said Fred. Harry felt good to laugh along with the others at that.

"Anyway, Harry," said George, "What's it to you, really? How many times would you have been willing to kill her? Ron said you were none too gentle with her yesterday."

"That was to serve a purpose. Now she's helpless, so we have a responsibility."

"Ron's right, you are crazy," said George, "but I like the ways you're crazy."

Harry accepted this with another pained smile. "Maybe the Ministry will decide to just keep her as she is - that's out of my hands - but we've won, and we should at least act with some dignity about it. Ach, what am I thinking, talking to you two about dignity?"

They grinned, then said together, with hands over their hearts, "That hurts, Harry Potter - no one's more dignified than we."

"Well, if the twins are going to take her, then you're off the hook, Tonks. But I think when you get back, you and Dawkins ought to take care of her. For a couple of aurors, she should be quite a prize to bring back. For now you can wrap up Riddle's remains - the hand should be offered to Pettigrew's mother, that's all that will be left for a burial. The other bones should be taken to the cemetery in Little Hangleton and buried in the grave marked Thomas Riddle. I'll take the wand and discuss what to do with it with Dumbledore."

Then Harry handed the canteen to Luna Lovegood. "Can you fill this with sea water, Luna?"

"Sure, Harry," she said.

When Luna brought the sea water, Harry told Neville to lay the basilisk wand on the ground. Then everyone closed their eyes, while Luna poured salty water over the wand. The wand turned into a rooster, while the basilisk popped free. The rooster immediately began crowing at the dawn sun, killing the basilisk. Hermione conjured a protective cover around the basilisk so it could be studied later. Hannah Abbott offered to carry the rooster back to Hogwarts.

"Well, then," said Harry, checking his watch, "Darn, it's frozen." Then he looked at the height of the sun. "I think you'll all have just about enough time to make it back to Hogwarts before the Final Feast, given that Fred and George won't be able to travel so fast with their passenger suspended. Neville and I have an errand to run, so we might be a bit late, even though we can travel as fast as my broom will go. I'll keep in touch with Remus by mirror. It'd be nice if we can all arrive together, but if not, you can report in ahead of me."

"Harry, what kind of errand do we have to run?" asked Neville.

Harry smiled. "I'd rather not say. Just trust me - you won't regret it."

"I do trust you, Harry, but can we use the Floo network this time. I'd even take being apparated."

"Sorry, Neville, I need the time to think about what's happened here this morning. Besides, I'm feeling a bit shaky, so I don't want to try apparating so far with a person. Can you bear with me for a few more hours of flight time?"

Neville sighed. "If you say so, Coach."

"Harry, are you up to flying? You're still not moving so well," asked Hermione.

"I can handle a broom, and I'm healing, so I think I should be as good as new by the time I see you all again."

Remus then asked, "Before you go, Harry, are you going to tell us what was going on that whole time when the green light was holding between you two?"

Harry creakily put a hand on Lupin's shoulder and looked him gently in the eye. "I'm not ready at the moment. It was ... I just need to think it through. Just let me say this for now: for whatever guilt you may have felt over the 'phony curse' deception everyone kept up all year, for the lies that were told, and for setting up a situation as dangerous as this past day has been, to the extent you think you need it for anything, all is forgiven. That goes for all of you. Be at peace."