The Final Battle

Harry's Army

An area in the centre of the rubble had been cleared. Here, Voldemort stood surrounded by a few of his Death Eaters.

"So, you haven't found them yet?"

"The castle collapsed on top of them. They were buried alive. There is no way they could have survived. My lord, they must be dead."

"I will believe they are dead when the bodies of Potter and Dumbledore are brought before me. Keep digging. Find them."

"Are you looking for me, Voldemort?"

The Death Eaters spun around, wands pointed in the direction of the voice. Only Voldemort seemed unsurprised. He turned slowly.

"Ah. Harry Potter. You've just saved me a lot of time and effort."

Harry stood there, staring at Voldemort with the utmost hatred burning behind his eyes. He raised his wand, but before he was able to utter a curse two of the Death Eaters grabbed his arms from behind and dragged him to their master's feet.

"I knew someone would come, eventually. I had so hoped it would be you. My dear boy. You always were so hopelessly heroic. You really have made a habit of trying to save people."

With a wave of his arm, Hermione was brought out from behind a large boulder. She was badly injured. One of the Death Eaters had been kind enough to splint her broken arm.

"Harry..." she murmured weakly. "You idiot... you're more...important...than me."

"I'm not as important as you think, Hermione. If I die, there will be two more to take my place."

That was the cue. As Harry finished speaking, two figures appeared in the same place Harry had first appeared. The dark lord's eyes widened in horror as he recognized them.

They were both Harry. Both identical to the one still at his feet. Two pairs of green eyes stared out of two thin faces crowned with two mops of messy black hair.

"There are more of us to come, Voldemort." They said in perfect synchronization. "More than you can possibly imagine. An army of us. A never-ending swarm of Harry Potters."

True to their words, more Harrys were appearing out of nowhere. Each one of them armed. Each one of them furious. Those without wands held swords, clubs, anything the dungeon armories had held. As they appeared they chimed their voices in with the words the first two had started, but at different times. Soon only vague snatches of sentences could be heard above the nightmarish chorus.

"...More of us...there are more...can possibly imagine ...us to come...an army of us...more of us to come, Voldemort...more than you...an army of us...a never-ending swarm... an army... of Harry Potters..."

Finally, the first Harry rose from the dust and stared Voldemort straight in the eye.

"How can you possibly stand up to an army of Harry Potters? It may not be me. It may not be this particular Harry. Kill me if you feel have to. It will make little difference in the end. No matter what you do, one of us will defeat you. No matter what you do, Harry Potter will finally defeat you"

With that the battle started. The Death Eaters were scattered all around the ruins and were unable to come immediately to their master's aid, and so they were cut down one by one as they arrived. Jinxes and curses flew wild and strong and more and more Harrys were swarming up through the rubble. There was no stopping them. As soon as it had begun, the battle was over. Teams of Harrys were dispatched to round up the last of the Death Eaters.

Voldemort had been captured. The Harrys had taken no chances with him. A dozen hexes held his unconscious body in place, and near on twenty Harrys stood guard around him, waiting.

And as the remaining Death Eaters were placed under a holding spell, the Harrys began to change. Green eyes became blue, brown, grey and hazel. Black hair shortened and lengthened as it faded through shades of brown, red and blonde. The army of Harry Potters became an army of assorted young witches and wizards as the effects of the Polyjuice potion diminished.

Only one remained unchanged. He was the real Harry. The only Harry. He waited with Madame Pomfrey who was tending to Hermione.

"Is she going to be ok?"

"She will be fine. She's just unconscious at the moment. Just make sure someone is here when she wakes up. She may be a little confused."

Madame Pomfrey rose and went to another patient. They had been lucky enough to make it through without anymore deaths, but many had been seriously injured. Ron picked his way through the stones to where Hermione lay."

"Harry, he's awake. Dumbledore says you have to go. He said you would know why."

Harry nodded, and followed his friends gaze back down to Hermione.

"Madame Pomfrey said she's ok. Stay with her. When she wakes up, she is going to need someone here. It should be you."

Ron nodded his head slowly; never taking his eyes off Hermione. Harry could see the fear in his eyes turning to relief. He knelt by the side of the pale, sleeping girl and took her cold white hand in his.

"I won't leave her again. Ever." He whispered.