Resonance

Chapter 5 - Meeting Destiny

Harry gasped again and, shaking badly, worked his way hand over hand to the end of his bed. On rubbery legs, he made the door to the dormitory and negotiated the stairs, still holding his wand. It occurred to him, as he reached the bottom, that far more students were in the common room than he would have expected. They all turned to him in concern.

"Harry?" Hermione and Ron said together. They and Ginny came over to him quickly. "Are you all right? Should we get Madame Pomfrey?"

Harry shook his head mechanically. "Get your wands out. McGonagall is gone, isn't she? And Dumbledore?"

"Yes," Randel, the Seventh Year prefect confirmed.

"No surprise," Harry muttered. "Get everyone together. The D.A. that is." He tried to still the shaking of his wand hand with no luck.

"Harry, what is going on?" Hermione demanded. The other students were moving to obey. Some leapt out the portrait hole without waiting for Harry's response.

"Voldemort is downstairs."

"Shit!" Someone exclaimed as everyone gasped.

"Harry, you were dreaming," Hermione insisted.

"If I am, then too bad--call it a drill. But I think he is standing in the frigging entrance hall." Harry stalked past her without really looking at her and pushed open the Fat Lady. He couldn't remember being this frightened. Even in the graveyard, he had only to worry about himself. Every last thing was on the line now--the entire wizarding world.

Putting one foot before the other, Harry let his legs carry him to the staircases. Students ran forward from the group as they went, bringing others back with them. At the first floor, Harry stopped.

"Should someone scout ahead?" Dean asked.

"No," Harry replied, imagining that someone getting picked off. He looked around him. "You, you, and you," he indicated the First and Second Years. "Stay to the back. Way to the back." At their disappointed and angry faces, he said, "Act as spotters then, if you have to help, but stay the hell back."

Harry started off again abruptly. Halfway down the corridor to the grand staircase, Ron organized himself and the other core members in front of Harry. "You aren't leading the way, mate," Ron explained.

They stepped quietly, the shuffle of their robes the only sound until Ron breathed, "Great Merlin," when they made it to the top of the grand staircase which led down to the entrance hall. All of the students raised their wands, some shaking more than others. Harry stepped forward enough to see down into the ground floor. A ring of hooded Death Eaters surrounded a tall central figure. Voldemort stood with his hooded head turned up to them, red eyes glowing even in the bright light from the open doors to the outside.

With faint whispers, Ron and the others packed themselves in tightly. Neville and Ginny changed positions. The students formed a ring around Harry and the leaders took a step down the staircase, almost in unison.

Harry, wand held at his side, followed them mechanically, his eyes locked on Voldemort's. Hermione whispered something and Neville responded. Harry glanced down at their shoulders before him. They had packed in sideways, back to front, wands held out before them. They didn't appear to be shaking anymore. Harry swallowed hard at the surge of emotion he felt at his friends doing this for him, stepping into a battle against the most evil wizards and witches alive.

Harry looked up again, bolstering himself with a determination to not let them down. He blinked and hesitated on the next riser when he saw Voldemort take a step backward. The ring around Harry paused with him. Heart racing, Harry remembered the battle at the Ministry. He narrowed his eyes at Voldemort's red ones and relived that ache of wanting to see Sirius again. This time it was unmistakable. Voldemort turned with a shift of his shoulders.

The fact that you can feel pain like this, is your greatest strength, Dumbledore's voice came back to him along with the angry pain of that conversation. The students paused around Harry since he had stopped advancing. Harry thought of the picture of his parents in the album Hagrid had given him. He thought of the ache of friendship he had for Hagrid. Voldemort twisted away, breaking his own ranks. Confused, the Death Eaters started firing spells at them.

Hermione and Neville put up a joined block, protecting nearly all of them. Ron and Ginny and the others incanted spells back at the ring of hooded figures. Harry gripped and began lifting his wand. Snake-like, Voldemort turned and stepped forward again, freezing Harry in place. Ignoring the shouted spells and the cries of pain, Harry thought of his parents. He brought the dark ache of loneliness up from the depths where he kept it secured and, with damp eyes, felt it all. He dwelled especially on the memory of his mother's protection of him when this very wizard had come for him the first time.

Voldemort ducked his head to break eye contact. Harry, suddenly released, glanced around him. A few of the students had fallen; one used the handrail to stand up again, wand still spelling. The circle of Death Eaters was breaking down with a few of them lying prone now. Look at me, damn you, Harry snarled in his mind at the dark, central figure.

Movement across the hall caught Harry's attention. He looked over and saw Snape, wand at ready, stepping stealthily up the stairwell that led to the Ravenclaw dungeon, alarmed eyes evaluating the situation. Harry wavered in that instant, worried what side he was really on. Paranoia flared in Harry's mind that maybe Snape had set this all up somehow, that he had tricked everyone. His old hatred of him flared.

Voldemort spun back, drawing Harry's eyes without volition. He struck through Harry's mind, riding on that hatred and distrust. Harry stepped back, almost falling. "No," Harry murmured. His scar felt like a laser burning all the way through his skull. He couldn't move, simply hung suspended on Voldemort's will. So easy, he heard mockingly in his mind. Tendrils snaked around Harry's hatred, feeding on it.

Harry tried to close his eyes, but they snapped open again. He heard Hermione call his name in concern. He didn't have much room to think in his own mind; memories of Snape's cruel treatment seemed to be tangling up his own force of will. Voldemort took a confident step forward raising his wand at Harry. With a whimper of utter reluctance, Harry remembered. He remembered that night in the abandoned manor house--the first and only time in his life he had woken up in someone's arms.

Voldemort's entire body jerked at that and Harry could suddenly breathe. He remembered the ache at hearing Snape's concerned voice. That terrible moment when his teacher blew across the tea to cool it for him. Voldemort's wand slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor. Harry barely heard it over the shouting. He raised his wand then. The emotion in him had reached some kind of breaking point. He imagined himself a shaken butterbeer bottle. He wondered fleetingly if he could hate Voldemort enough to kill him. Forbidden Curses required force of will. Belletrix had told him that, and he expected she would know. But he couldn't risk any hate--Voldemort would have him then for certain. The evil being before him was straightening himself, raising his bare, white, boney hand.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry shouted, with no hate, just an overwhelming, aching desire to free himself and everyone else.

The green flare was bright, even competing with the sunlight. Voldemort flickered with it, writhing as he fell. Roaring silence descended as everyone froze like a Muggle snapshot. Rolling chaos followed. The Death Eaters broke in every direction. Dean dashed from beside Harry and followed three of them down the stairs to the left. Other students followed him. Some followers ran for the main doors and some for the Great Hall. With whoops like war cries, students piled after them.

Hysterical screaming drew Harry's attention back to the center of the floor. Belletrix Lestrange, her mask pulled off, shook Voldemort's still form and shouted, "Master! Master!" With a snarl she lifted her wand and fired at Harry. Neville, the only remaining student in front of him, spelled a block. The force of the blasting curse threw him back into Harry, and they fell together up the steps. Screaming like a banshee, Belletrix fired again. This time, another figure had jumped in and two blocks went up.

Neville staggered to his feet and screamed a binding curse at her, which she shook off easily. Harry tried to stand up and help, only to find a hand on him, keeping him down.

"Stay down, Mr. Potter," Snape said.

Belletrix threw another blasting curse, easily blocked this time. She seemed too despairing to think more strategically. With a sob, she ran for the nearest door to the Great Hall. Neville leapt down the stairs after her.

Snape looked around them for any other danger before turning back to Harry, who found something in his gaze he'd never seen before, a respectful amazement. Snape offered him a hand up. "All right, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, sir."

Snape shook his head, apparently in disbelief. After a glance over Harry, he stepped down to the floor, where he placed double bindings on the fallen Death Eaters On unsteady legs, Harry followed him down. Voldemort lay apart from the others, half on his side, his hood obscuring his face. Harry stepped over to the fallen wizard and considered pushing him over onto his back to see his face. The thought of touching him made Harry queasy, so he leaned down instead to look inside his hood. Voldemort's eyes were slitted open, the glow gone from them. His lipless mouth hung open and slack. Harry straightened and considered that the boney form under the robe didn't look like much, really.

Shouts came from outside, followed by the sizzle of spells. Professor Snape rushed to the open doorway, his wand drawn. He lowered it to his side as he looked out. Professor McGonagall stepped up into view and into the hall. She stopped dead at the top and stared wide-eyed at Harry and the scene. Harry blinked at her, silhouetted in the bright sunlight and green lawn behind her. Part of him calculated what this must look like, him standing, wand at his side, over Voldemort's dead body. Most of him was too numb to care.

Dumbledore followed. Out of breath, he said to Snape, "Thank goodness, Severus," as he touched Snape on the arm in relief. "You were correct it was-" Dumbledore dropped his arm and gaped in surprise. "Harry!" he breathed in shock.

Harry couldn't remember surprising the old wizard quite that way before. He supposed that was some kind of compliment. "It's over," Harry tried to say, although it came out raspy and quiet.

Dumbledore stepped up to him. He had no compunction about pushing Voldemort over to look at him. Harry took an unconscious half step back as the limp form flopped over. "My dear boy. When I realized how badly we had been tricked . . ." He took a deep breath and looked Harry over. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Harry quipped, recovering himself.

Clattering footsteps sounded on the stairs from the dungeon. Dean Thomas, leaning heavily on the wall, his shoes transfigured to ice boots, blood running from a long streak on his scalp, said, "That bastard dead?"

"Yes," Harry replied.

"Thank Merlin," he breathed and collapsed onto the floor.

Harry moved toward him but was restrained by Dumbledore. "You relax, Harry. You have done your part for now." He stepped across to the teachers, standing in the doorway to the Great Hall. "Minerva, get the hearths in here put on the Floo Network so we can get the injured to hospital faster."

McGonagall moved to comply. Snape said, "There are other D.E. about."

"The Ministry is right behind us. In fact, here they are now." Dumbledore gestured at the door as Tonks and four other Aurors rushed into the hall along with other Ministry wizards. Tonks hesitated as she took in the scene and came over to Harry. The other Aurors spread out to sweep the castle at Dumbledore's request.

"Did you do this?" Tonks asked Harry.

Harry hesitated; her tone made it sound as though he could be in trouble for it. "Yes."

Tonks hugged him hard. "Harry," she murmured. "Will you marry me?"

"What?" Harry blurted, stunned.

She pushed him to arms length. "I don't think I could love anyone more than I do you right now. You are amazing, Harry." Harry, still alarmed, didn't manage a reply. "I'm only joking," she said and hit him lightly on the arm with her fist. As she stepped past him to help in the Great Hall, she said quietly, "Unless you change your mind."

Harry turned to Dumbledore for help with that one and found only an amused smile. Expressions of surprise from the top of the grand staircase made Harry realize that many, many students had gathered there. "No closer," Dumbledore said to them, holding up his hand. Harry wondered if he'd cast a spell as well to block the staircase.

"Harry did that?" one small voice asked. "Yeah," another replied in an awed tone. Murmuring followed. "Way to go, Harry!" the first shouted. Harry gave them all a small smile. As good as he felt, he also felt completely unseated.

McGonagall stepped over. "The Minister is on his way," she said with a touch of distaste.

"Try to prepare yourself, Harry," Dumbledore said. "There will be many questions."

"I'm ready, sir," Harry said, even though he didn't believe he was. He had a feeling his dislike of Fudge could carry him though.

When Fudge and his entourage, including Percy, blustered into the entrance hall, the teachers moved closer to Harry as though to form ranks.

"Well, I wouldn't have believed it without seeing it. Thank Merlin we have a body this time," Fudge breathed as he crouched beside Voldemort's dead figure. "Potter, I'm told we have you to thank for this."

"Yes, sir," Harry acknowledged quietly.

Brusquely, Fudge stood up. "Well, we'll have to have the full story." He put his hands on his hips and looked Harry over appraisingly, in a way Harry didn't like. With effort, Harry held his expression level until the man turned to Dumbledore.

"Perhaps the lounge off the Great Hall," Dumbledore said graciously. He raised his arm to urge the Minister along.

In the Great Hall injured students and bound Death Eaters were waiting to be transported out. Dean lay on the Gryffindor table, still bleeding. Harry veered over to him. It looked like Dean had been wiping the blood from his eyes repeatedly, as his face was darkened with red of various shades. His eyes were intense. "Ice transfiguration worked like a charm," he said, as though discussing a Quidditch maneuver. "Sir," he said as Dumbledore came up beside Harry.

"Not as bad as he looks," Professor Grubbly-Plank said as she walked up to them. "Too much adrenaline to feel anything anyway," she said darkly before turning to help another student into the Floo.

Harry looked around the Hall frantically and then at Dumbledore. "How many . . uh, hurt . . . dead?" he asked.

McGonagall, close behind him, said, "There are two dead Death Eaters and twelve injured students. We didn't lose any students, and don't expect to." Dumbledore put his hand upon Harry's head and stroked his hair once.

"I didn't kill him," Dean interrupted, trying valiantly to sit up. "He killed himself when we cornered him. Nott, that is."

Fudge stepped over. "Reems, White, take statements here and at Mungo's while we interview Mr. Potter and the staff," he said to two of his people. "Wilson, with me," he said to Percy.

Harry had to cover his mouth to keep from cracking up. All of his emotions were stark and sudden. He hoped that wore off soon.

"So, were any of your teachers present?" Fudge asked when the door to the lounge closed.

Dumbledore lit the lamps and invited everyone to sit. "Only Professor Snape was present, I believe, during the battle. He was the only one present when we arrived, in any event."

Harry sat down on the couch across from Percy. The Minister chose to stand. "Tell us what happened, Potter," Fudge said in a tone as though they were old school chums.

"From what point?"

"From wherever seems relevant, Harry," Dumbledore said gently.

Harry looked around the room. McGonagall stood beside the couch to the right. Dumbledore took the seat beside him. Snape hung in the corner where Krum had stood brooding the last time Harry had been in this room. Percy sat with his quill poised over a long, long blank parchment. Fudge still looked Harry over as though considering his value.

Harry sighed. "I went up for a nap after breakfast-"

"A nap?" Percy asked in disbelief.

"I haven't been sleeping well the last two weeks," Harry said defensively. "I went up for a nap, as I was saying. I woke up all of a sudden thinking Voldemort was standing by my bed. Which he wasn't," Harry pointed out at Percy's blanched expression. "But my scar started burning and I had a vision of Voldemort waiting in the entrance hall for me." Harry stopped to rub his neck. "I went down to the common room, where a lot of students were hanging out." Harry trailed off as he paused to reconsider that.

"What?" Fudge said, impatient apparently with Harry's pace.

"I was just thinking now that they weren't all Gryffindors, which is odd." He shook his head. He had a clear memory of Cho sitting in the best chair by the fire, looking up at him in concern. "I told Ron and Hermione to get the D.A. together."

"Ah, yes," Fudge said grimly. "Dumbledore's Army as I recall."

"Defense Association," Harry corrected him with a sharp look. Fudge was really grating on him, and the Minister's confusion at this revelation didn't endear him more. "We pulled the group together--"

"Wait, everyone just believed you?" Percy asked with derision.

"Not everyone. I said we'd call it a drill if I was wrong, so everyone went along. Only Hermione voiced any doubt." Harry paused to see whether Percy would say anything else. "Voldemort and some twenty odd D.E. were in the entrance hall, standing in a circle around Voldemort. Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Dean packed themselves tight together in front of me. Hermione and Neville arranged to concentrate on blocking. None of the D.E. moved as we started down the stairs. We had a huge advantage with the height and those two blocking everything coming up at us."

Harry stopped to try to figure out how to explain what he'd done. The teachers sat patiently while Fudge fidgeted. "What spell did you use to fell He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Fudge demanded with a huff.

"In the end, a Killing Curse," Harry said.

"He just stood there and let you do that?" Fudge asked in disbelief.

"He'd dropped his wand," Harry said levelly. "I had to get him to put his wand down--mine and his cancel out." The teachers around him sat in a kind of deeper stillness as Harry spoke. He tread back from that line of topic, thinking maybe it was too mired.

"And he dropped his wand because--?" Fudge prompted, waving his hand to pull Harry along.

"Because I'd attacked his mind," Harry supplied.

"Good grief, boy! What made you think that would work?" Fudge said.

"Someone told me once it was my only weapon." Beside him, Dumbledore shifted, pulling his robes straight. Harry went on, thinking only to get through this and get back to his bed. "I made him feel everything he was unable too. It was too much for him." And me as well, Harry thought with a spike of pain. He wanted to scream at Fudge that it wouldn't have come down to this if he hadn't been so slow. But that wasn't true, really. The prophecy didn't include Fudge.

Harry sat back, exhausted. Dumbledore pulled out his wand and a steaming teapot and cups appeared. He poured a cup for Harry and one for the Minister, in that order. "Severus, would you like tea?" the headmaster asked amiably.

Snape turned away from the mantelpiece and stepped over. He gave Harry a strange, intense look before he leaned over and accepted a cup.

Harry went on. "After Voldemort fell, Belletrix was the only one to stay put. She went crazy, started spelling me with blasting curses, but Neville and Professor Snape stepped in the way. The other students chased after the escaping D.E. so those two were the only ones left. After that, Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore came in the front door." Harry shrugged to indicate he was finished. He sipped his tea and waited, hoping there weren't any questions.

"Professor," Fudge cranked his head around to look at Snape. "Tell us what you saw."

Percy put down the cup he was about to pour tea into and returned to his transcription. Harry closed his eyes and listened as Snape described investigating an alarm spell that was triggered in the corridor near the delivery entrance to the kitchens. When he came back up to the entrance hall, it was clear from the noise that a fight was going on. "The students were on the grand staircase, as stated. Potter didn't have his wand out, that I could see; he just stared down at the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord kept stepping back, flinching back. He eventually backed into his own ranks and they began spelling the students in their confusion over what was happening."

Snape set his empty teacup down. "I doubt that was the plan. The Dark Lord intended to take out Potter himself." Harry opened his eyes at that and looked up at his teacher. In his tired state, this all could be a dream. Snape eyed him with that piercing look again.

His professor continued, "The battle of wills, if you'll allow, went back and forth until Mr. Potter got the upper hand and Voldemort dropped his wand. That was when Potter raised his wand for the first time and used a Killing Curse." As he finished, Snape stepped back away from the group and crossed his arms. Harry wondered what was up with him--he seemed unsettled in a different way than normal.

Fudge glanced over Percy's shoulder before clapping his hands together and rubbing them. "I guess that covers it for now. You will make yourself available, Mr. Potter, correct, if we have more questions?"

Harry nodded, hiding his relief with great effort.

Out in the Great Hall, only Ministry wizards mingled now. "Harry!" Mr. Weasley shouted and ran over to him. "My boy," he said when he reached him. He clasped Harry's arms fiercely. "So good to see you unharmed. Look at you, not a nick on you!"

Harry smiled at him and dropped his gaze. Dumbledore came beside and put a hand under his arm. "Harry, just one more thing I need from you and then you can rest. The press are outside. . . ."

Harry made a pained noise in the back of his throat. "I'd really rather not, sir."

"The rumors are flying fast and furious, Harry," Mr. Weasley pointed out helpfully. "Best nip them all now."

"Arthur is correct, Harry," Dumbledore said. "It will be short, I promise, and I'll be right beside you."

"Suddenly unwilling to bask in your fame, Potter?" Snape asked from behind them.

Harry shot him a look of disbelief. "What do you mean, 'suddenly unwilling?'"

"Come, Harry," Dumbledore said easily as he pulled Harry away. When they were halfway across the Hall, the old wizard leaned close. "No infighting in front of the Ministry, my boy."

"Tell that to Professor Snape," Harry said.

"Believe me, I will," Dumbledore said.

Mollified, Harry followed him out, thinking ahead to dealing with the likes of Rita Skeeter. Dumbledore led him past Voldemort's body, being guarded by two Aurors, to the front doors, which were now closed. Dumbledore opened one just wide enough and stepped out, pulling Harry behind him. The first thing Harry thought was, boy, the press moves fast. There were no fewer than thirty people standing at the base of the castle steps, from all different nationalities. They all jerked and jumped to their feet when he and the headmaster appeared.

Dumbledore immediately held up his hand, as they all had started talking at once. Silence fell. "One at a time, now," he said kindly. "And this is going to be short, as Harry is very tired."

"Were you injured?" a redheaded man in the front asked with a heavy brogue.

"No," Harry replied.

"Not at all? Not a scratch?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well, that is very different from dead," the man said, taking notes.

"Very different," Harry acknowledged amiably. If the questions continued like this, he could handle it.

A dark, Hungarian-sounding man in the back asked, "Vat spells did you use on zee Dark Lord?"

"An Avada Kedavra," Harry said. All of them wrote that down. A camera flashed.

"Haf you used it before?"

"No."

"Vat was it like, using such a curse on zee Dark Lord? Easy to come up vit so much hatred?"

Harry shook his head. "It wasn't hatred." All of them paused, quills poised, as he thought about his answer. "It was love of everything else." He took a deep breath, suddenly short on air. Dumbledore's hand touched his back fleetingly and he forced himself past it.

Rita Skeeter raised her hand and said, "Do you have a girlfriend?"

Harry lowered his brow at her. "Does anyone care about that?" he asked. Several heads nodded. "No," he said, annoyed.

"Not the pretty, although decidedly too clever for her own good, girl with the long curly--"

"No." Harry considered pointing out that she was with someone else, but decided that discretion really was the better part.

"Are you going to accept the Scots invitation to play Seeker?"

"What?" Harry blurted, certain he had misheard. "I hadn't heard that," he said, startled not just at that notion but at the other bizarre offers that were undoubtedly going to follow.

"One more question," Dumbledore said, putting an arm around Harry's shoulder. Cameras flashed. Harry really was tired, far more than physically.

"Your little club, the D.A.?" This was from Rita. "Were they helpful?"

"Very. They protected me, rounded up the D.E. when they ran away after Voldemort fell."

Dumbledore bowed to them. Some of them raised their hands. "I'll come back in a few minutes after I've seen Harry inside. The Minister will also undoubtedly answer a few questions."

Harry suddenly realized how important it was to be out here before Fudge. The entrance hall felt dark now in contrast to the sunny steps. Voldemort's body was gone. Tonks stepped over when she saw them come in.

"Bad news," she said. "We didn't get all the D.E." She sighed and pocketed her wand. "Seems Pettigrew was sent to Azkaban to release the D.E. we had. He succeeded but not in time for them to get here, or they decided not to come."

"That means Mr. Malfoy is loose too?" Harry asked, resisting looking behind him even here in the hall of the castle filled with Ministry wizards.

"Everyone we caught at the Ministry is loose now. It's a fair trade, really. We'll take it in an eyeblink, but it's unfortunate." She and Dumbledore shared a look that Harry was too tired to study closely.

"I'm going up to my dormitory," Harry said, as he stepped away from Dumbledore's supporting arm toward the stairs. He hesitated--he was out of potion. Maybe he didn't need it now. His tired brain couldn't decide. The top of the staircase was packed with wide-eyed students. Deciding he'd sleep no matter what, Harry went up. A path parted through the students as he approached. Hands reached out and brushed his robe as he passed.

"Good going, Harry." "Thank you, Harry," quiet voices said as he made his way through the crowd. He glanced around himself. He knew most of the faces there, if not the names, but a wide gulf had opened between them that staggered him in his current state. Smiling faintly to cover, he kept walking. Some followed one or two corridors, then decided to return to watch the Ministry at work.

"Harry!" Hermione rocketed out of her chair and hugged him as he stepped into the common room.

"What are you doing up here?" Harry asked.

"Avoiding Percy," Ron said. "That and Tonks walked us here from the Dispensary with a sharp comment about not seeing us in the way."

"He's your brother," Ginny pointed out.

"So why are you here as well?" Ron asked his sister.

"You didn't get hurt at all?" Harry asked them.

Ron held up a bandaged arm and then a bandaged ankle. "Treated and released," he said. "Hermione had tentacles for hair but that was easy to fix. Ginny, well, she can tell you if she wants. She'll kill me if I do."

Ginny had turned bright red and stared at the ceiling.

Harry swayed slightly. "My nap got interrupted," he said, then giggled. "I need to go back to sleep," he added in full seriousness.

"We'll wake you for the party," Ginny said.

At the base of the stairs, Harry turned. "What party?"

"There has to be one," she insisted.

"Sure," Harry murmured. "As long as it is at least three hours from now."