Obliviate

Obliviate - Chapter Ten

Although he should have anticipated the throngs of journalists, photographers, and curious bystanders, Harry Potter was utterly unprepared for the swarms of ravenous reporters to come bearing down on him the moment he Apparated into the Three Broomsticks. Fortunately, Luna had adjusted her destination so they thankfully avoided another awkward situation in the coat room, yet they now found themselves on the main floor of the tavern. Seconds later-

"Mister Potter-"

"A moment of your time-"

"You ought to be outraged-"

Flash, flash, flash. The lights of the magical cameras surrounding them kept going off and even when he closed his eyes he still saw the neon colored afterimages floating around on the backs of his eyelids. Luna clung firmly onto his arm, serving as an anchor to his sanity - she hadn't let go of him since they'd first appeared at the bar. He spared a fleeting glance at her profile beside him and marveled at the way she could look so cool, so calm, so composed in the face of all the hysteria. However, she was, after all, a journalist herself, so he figured she was quite accustomed to dealing with the wild hordes that constituted the wizarding media.

People kept peppering him with questions, trying to elicit any sort of response, but he was beyond listening to them and trying to sort out their words to make sense of the noises. It was all just an annoying buzz in his ears and he groaned out loud, resolutely squeezing his eyes shut and reaching his hands up to massage his aching temples. Why did they have to be so aggressive? He decided that life could be much more pleasant if all of the journalists would just shut up and quietly lie down on the floor-

Suddenly there was a deafening thunderclap and Harry dropped to the ground, covering his head and he saw others around him do the same. An unsettling silence filled the void where there had been pandemonium only moments before and he slowly raised his head, surveying the damage.

However, there was no damage to be found - and Harry noticed with a certain amount of surprise that Luna was standing tall, her wand drawn and pointed up in the air. He realized then that her wand had been the source of the explosion.

Gradually the journalists lying scattered about on the floor of the Three Broomsticks made their way to their feet and there was noise again, steadily growing in volume; the tumult was beginning anew-

Luna jabbed her wand in the air and another explosion of sound ripped through the bar. Fewer people ducked down this time but the room was silent once more. She lowered her arm and helped to pull Harry to his feet. Luna struck a defiant pose, sending challenging stares around the room and making eye contact with as many people as she could. With an unwavering tone of authority, she announced to the bar, "No comment."

With the firm declaration of those two words, the assorted witches and wizards who had been so eager to interrogate Harry minutes ago now grudgingly allowed him to sweep past them and exit the bar.

A disgruntled looking Rita Skeeter called out, "You won't be able to get to the castle! It's sealed itself off from everyone!"

Harry didn't even bother to look over his shoulder at the disgusting reporter. He'd find a way in; he was sure of it.

Outside, the sun hovered indecisively above the horizon, reluctantly beginning to set, allowing the evening to steal the sky. There were other buildings lined up and down the road next to the Three Broomsticks and at the end, Harry could clearly make out the outline of Hogwarts in the distance. His breathing sped up at the sight of his old school, his old home for so many years - he had remembered it of course, had remembered the professors, the students, his adventures - but he had forgotten the sheer beauty of the castle. Even from far away in Hogsmeade, Harry stood rooted to the ground, captivated by the sun's rays washing over the elegant stone walls and spires. A shiver slid down his spine.

He was back.

"Harry?" Luna asked patiently, reaching for his arm. "Come on, we need to start walking."

"Right," he murmured, his eyes still transfixed upon the school.

They walked in an anxious silence, both concealing their fears and misgivings about their current adventure behind masks of determination. After some time, they finally reached the gates, however when Harry tried to open them, they would not budge. He impatiently rattled the steel bars and rashly decided to kick them, which he regretted an instant later as he angrily nursed his sore foot.

"Now what?" he growled, scowling at the closed gates. "We can't get in."

Luna studied the massive old gates and poked her wand at them inquisitively. An uncustomary frown came across her face. "I don't remember the last time these were locked."

"It has been quite a while, hasn't it?"

At the sound of the unexpected voice, they whirled around, wands out and ready-

"Professor McGonagall!" Harry cried out, immediately lowering his arm.

She shot both of them a thin-lipped smile and tilted her head ever so slightly. "Mister Potter."

"Oh, good evening, professor," said Luna, as if just noticing her for the first time.

"Likewise, Miss Lovegood." McGonagall arched an eyebrow. "Here to see Albus, are you?"

"Yes, please," answered Luna, nodding pleasantly. "It's really quite urgent."

The old witch regarded Harry with an odd expression on her face; for a heartbeat, he thought he saw a shimmer in her eyes, an unshed tear - in that moment it appeared as if her features softened ever so slightly, but he blinked and she was once again Minerva McGonagall, his former Transfigurations professor and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. She stepped forward with her wand drawn and touched the tip of it to the gate. There was a gust of wind and a loud click as the gates unlocked and swung open with a groan. Wearing a wry smile, she shrugged and said, "I suppose Albus didn't want to keep me out."

"What were you doing outside of the castle, professor?" Harry blurted out, snapping his mouth shut a second later as he realized how rude it must have sounded. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's quite all right, Harry," McGonagall responded as they began walking up to the school, Harry and Luna flanking her. "If you really must know, I was speaking to some of the journalists." She turned to face Luna and added, "Your father is rather polite. I'd never met him before."

The younger woman beamed at the praise. "Did he ask you any questions about Professor Dumbledore?"

McGonagall nodded pensively and opened her mouth, as if she was hesitating to say something. "Yes. In fact, the reason everyone is in Hogsmeade is because... well, I called them here."

"You did?" Harry gave her a quizzical stare. "Why?"

Another wan smile spread out across the professor's face. "I'm afraid that's something you'll have to take up with the headmaster. Ah, here we are."

They had reached a rarely used side entrance and with another flick of a wand from McGonagall, the trio were now safely inside the castle and on their way to see the headmaster. When they arrived at the stone gargoyle which guarded the spiral staircase to his office, McGonagall stopped and put a hand over Luna's shoulder.

"I think it would be best if Harry went up alone."

"No!" she protested. "He could get hurt again-"

"Hurt?" he asked cautiously, tensing up at the thought of physical pain.

McGonagall shook her head and held firmly onto Luna. "Harry won't get hurt. Dumbledore is in the spotlight - he can't and he won't risk hurting him now."

Having the two women talking about him as if wasn't even there was a bit unnerving for Harry. He raised his voice. "How could I get hurt? Why would Dumbledore want to hurt me?"

They both stopped and stared at him. McGonagall gave him a pitying look while Luna diverted her gaze to her feet and did not speak. An ugly silence fell over all three of them until at last McGonagall said disbelievingly, "You didn't tell him anything?"

"We didn't have the time," muttered Luna, still keeping her head down.

"Well," she began, shooting an anxious glance at Harry, "I dare say you'll find out soon enough. Go on up. He's waiting for you."

As if on cue, there was the sound of stone grinding upon stone and the gargoyle shifted into motion as the stairs began to rise up. He gulped and stood on the first step and waited as he was taken to the top.

What mysteries awaited him in the headmaster's office? What secrets would he unravel?

What would he learn about himself?

The stairs ground to a halt and he found himself looking up at an imposing wooden door. Unexpectedly it opened of its own accord, allowing him inside the office. He warily stepped in, peering about carefully at the portraits and the shelves lining the walls stacked with books. Fawkes was perched on his stand over on Dumbledore's desk, appearing very unconcerned with life and the shiny, whirling contraptions scattered about in their places.

"Hello, Harry," a tired voice called out. Dumbledore appeared suddenly out of a small door he'd never noticed before. The headmaster stood in front of him with his hands clasped together, wearing a grave

"Professor."

"We've been waiting a long time to see each other, haven't we?" the old man asked. Harry noticed that his normally cheery, lively demeanor was disturbingly absent and in its place was an overwhelming sense of fatigue and weariness. "Please," he said, conjuring an armchair with a wave of his wand. "Have a seat."

The hospitality he was receiving was confusing, to say the least. From what he had managed to piece together from the fragmented conversation between Luna and McGonagall moments before, Dumbledore was supposedly some sort of threat to him. So why didn't he feel... worried at all?

"I insist," he went on, gesturing to the vacant seat as he conjured one for himself and sat down.

Harry relented and seated himself.

"Professor," he began reluctantly, feeling a sense of discomfort beginning to wash over him as he looked into the headmaster's dull eyes. "Where have I been for the last two years? Why was I living as a Muggle, without any idea of who I really was?" Dumbledore's lip twitched as Harry continued, "And why... why are all of my friends dead?"

He wanted to feel angry at Dumbledore, he really did. In fact, while he had felt apprehensive on the way up to this office, he had also had every intention of chewing him out, giving the old man a piece of his mind, and if necessary, using physical force to get him to cooperate. But now, as he regarded the tired man sitting across from him, all the aggression and enmity in his system evaporated. There was something in the other man's countenance that was dead and gone - and how could you attack something that wasn't there?

"Harry," Dumbledore started, his words grave, "before I say anything else, I want you to know that what I did was for your protection-"

"Against what?" he cried, a halfhearted surge of frustration leaking out into his words, making his voice crack. "Protect me from what? From Voldemort? I killed him, didn't I?"

Dumbledore sighed and rested his chin in the palm of his hand, allowing a faint sigh to escape his lips. "Yes, you did kill him." Then before Harry could say anything else, he added, "I did it to protect you from yourself."

"From... myself?" he wondered out loud, feeling completely bewildered. What was he talking about? This wasn't making any sense. "What do you mean?"

"Care for a lemon drop, Harry?" the headmaster asked mildly. "This is going to take a while to explain."

Then, for the first time he could remember, Harry accepted the candy and sat back in his seat, ready to hear the story of his past.

* * *

It was an old, dilapidated, ordinary farmhouse. And it was where Lord Voldemort had fled to and made his base of operations. Granted, it was buried deep within the countryside, had Muggle-repelling charms surrounding it for miles, was Unplottable, and had just about every other form of magical protection on it known to the wizarding world, but they had found it. As Harry Potter regarded the battered house through his Omnioculars one more time, he couldn't help but think to himself, 'At least Voldemort could have gone down with a little bit more style.'

"Are you ready, mate?" came the inquiring, reassuring voice of Ron. His best friend gave him a rough pat on the pack and did his best to shoot him a goofy, carefree smile. "This is it. This is the end."

"We really ought to hurry," chimed in Hermione, a hint of worry written in her features. "I'm sure he knows we're already here. The protection spells-"

"Yes, Hermione, we know all about the protection spells by now," asserted Harry, not taking his eyes off the unimposing house in the distance. "But I'm ready for him. We all are." And he meant it.

Over the last year after Harry had decided not to return to Hogwarts, the three friends had scoured the corners of the world, seeking out the last of Voldemort's Horcruxes. Once they had finally managed to collect and destroy them all, their true hunt for the Dark Lord had commenced and, within days, it had led them to this place:

A rickety house in the middle of nowhere with no visible outward defenses. It felt too easy.

"How much longer are we going to wait, Harry?" asked Hermione urgently. Although they had endured unspeakable horrors on their quest to find the Horcruxes, she still tended to get nervous in situations when they weren't doing anything. "I've already figured out the spells on the doors, the windows, and the-"

"We're not going in through the doors or the windows," he said placidly, handing the Omnioculars to her. "Take a look. We're going in through the roof."

Sure enough, there was a gap in the shingles just large enough for any of them to fit through. Harry straightened his shoulders out and reached for his Firebolt. "Brooms out, let's go!"

Hermione groaned and Ron found the good humor to laugh at her. Moments later they were off under the cover of night, soaring over towards the house. Less than ten seconds later they had landed on the roof and with the aid of a few well-placed silencing charms, they stealthily dropped down into the second floor, all facing apart from each other, wands held at the ready.

But there were no Death Eaters lying in wait for them. There was no Lord Voldemort lurking the shadows of what looked to be a musty bedroom. In fact, there wasn't much of anything in the room with them except for a bed with a collapsed leg and some scattered bits of wood and roofing tile. Moonbeams meagerly poured in through what was left of the aged, blurry, glass windows and cast its pale light around, blanketing everything and everyone with its silver sheen.

Ron gave Harry a questioning look, knowing better than to speak out loud. Harry simply shrugged and silently motioned for the two to follow him. They moved in perfect coordination from room to room, searching for Voldemort but not finding anything - no hidden Death Eaters, no dark artifacts, not even anything as mundane as a spell book.

The sweep of the first and second floors produced nothing. There was an empty space in the kitchen where the stove should have been; there was no other furniture in any other room besides the bedroom and the living room, where there was a ragged, stained couch, and there was a thick layer of dust coating the walls and the floors as if nobody had lived in the house for many years.

However, as they were about to admit defeat and leave, Hermione tugged anxiously on Harry's sleeve and nodded her head over towards a closed door in a corner they had missed. Cautiously pushing it open, they discovered a set of stairs that descended down into a pitch black basement. Giving his companions each a momentary glance, Harry kept his jaw firmly set as he stepped carefully down into the darkness. Ron followed him and Hermione brought up the rear.

"Something's wet," remarked Ron in a whisper when they reached the bottom. "I can feel it seeping through my trainers-"

"W-what's that smell?" came Hermione's nervous voice.

"Lumos," called out Harry, extending his arm and fully seeing the basement for the first time.

Moist, uneven, earthen walls enclosed the single large room they were standing in. Overhead, rusty nails jutted haphazardly through rotting wooden floorboards. The air was stale and smelled of death. And there was an inch of dark maroon blood covering the floor.

"Oh my god," muttered Hermione, clasping a hand to her mouth and pointing over to a corner with her free hand. "Look."

Lying, heaped up in a graceless pile like so many cast aside toy dolls, were the limp bodies of a dozen people. Harry courageously walked up to them and saw that their faces and hands were worn and gaunt and pale as bleached bone. Their lifeless eyes stared off into nothingness, their mouths were frozen open in silent screams of pain-

They were the last Death Eaters.

Even after braving the long, arduous journey to get to where he was standing right now, Harry couldn't help himself. He took a weak step backwards, nearly slipping on the slick blood, and vomited. Hermione gave him a sympathetic look and retreated into Ron's outstretched, comforting arm.

After some time where nobody spoke and Harry had not yet stood back up, Ron cleared his throat. "There's... there's a thingie over there...." His voice trailed off as he strode over to an ordinary looking section of the wall and he pressed his hand to it in various places. Neither Harry nor Hermione said anything as he did this, they just watched, moving into position behind him. Suddenly he let out a triumphant "Aha!" and tapped his wand several times against the hardened soil. "Just like at the orphanage...."

The section of wall Ron had just magicked flickered and abruptly faded away, showing them a short corridor with a plain wooden door at the end. They all hesitated to go any farther as they noticed a pulsing light escaping around the cracks in the doorway. Gulping visibly, Harry stepped forward, only dimly aware that Ron and Hermione were loyally following behind him.

At last they reached the door, the light seeming to pulse more strongly as they drew nearer, and Harry pushed it open.

"Harry Potter," drawled Lord Voldemort, his gleaming eyes coming to rest upon the trio. "And I see you've brought your little friends... how endearing."

He regarded the Dark Lord, his jaw hanging open slightly but his wand still pointed firmly at him. Voldemort's features looked thin and haggard, as if he hadn't eaten in days, and his skin appeared more sallow than how he remembered it the last time they'd met. Harry noticed after a moment that his breathing sounded labored and he was clutching feebly at his chest as he sat on the bloody floor before them, his back propped up against the dirt wall. Hermione gasped as she came into sight of him and Ron smirked mirthlessly as he saw Voldemort in such a weakened state.

"You're done, Tom," stated Harry coldly.

"Yes..." hissed the dark wizard, closing his eyes. They still glowed red behind his eyelids. "Soon, but not yet. Perhaps... we can... strike a deal-" he coughed viciously and black blood splattered around his lips.

"I don't think you're in any position to be making bargains."

"Do you...." he began. He raised his arm and all three of them tensed up visibly and leveled their wands at him, but he merely pointed over to an unnoticed corner where another body rested; tousled red hair lie bunched up around a delicate face....

"You son of a-" Harry spat out, his arm shaking with rage. "I'll-"

"She's not... dead," breathed Voldemort with some difficulty. Then he added with a hint of malice behind his words, "Although she will be... if you continue... on like this."

The trio froze in place, not wanting to jeopardize Ginny's life.

"I-" Voldemort coughed yet again and more blood came from his mouth. His upper lip curled into a sneer. "I must confess... I never thought losing my Horcruxes... would leave me... like this."

"That's a crying shame, isn't it?" pointed out Ron.

"Six parts of your soul are gone," Hermione added. "It's a wonder you're still able to speak." She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. "You killed-"

"For a Mudblood you're remarkable quick," he commented, smirking at them all. Then, between ragged breaths, he said, "Suffice it to say... the corrupted souls of a few dozen... of my most faithful can... only carry one so far...."

"You're sick," she spat, looking at him disdainfully.

"Enough," interrupted Harry, raising a hand to silence his friends. "What must we do in order for you to spare her life?"

Voldemort's lips twisted into a grin. He let out a shoulder-wracking, wheezy sigh and dropped his hands to his sides, palms open in an expression of resignation. "I... I will spare her if... you let me go."

Harry's lip twitched involuntarily. Voldemort was making a plea for his own life? He had never expected their final encounter to be anything like this. In all of his dreams and nightmares, they had dueled on the grounds of Hogwarts, in Diagon Alley, in Hogsmeade, and it had always been an epic battle - Voldemort's dozens of dark followers against the valiant yet hopelessly outnumbered Order of the Phoenix. He had always felt like he ought to be a warrior.

Instead, he felt like he was about to cut life support for an unarmed old man lying on his deathbed in a retirement home. The gears began to spin in his head and his narrowed eyes darted back and forth between Ginny and Voldemort. What had been done to her...? She was lying there very still, but there was a slight tinge of pink to her cheeks and her chest was moving up and down. It almost looked like....

"Harry?" asked Hermione tentatively, not taking her eyes off of Voldemort. "What are we going to do?"

"I say we finish him off right here and right now," growled Ron, seething over the fact that Ginny had been kidnapped. "Just say the word and we'll do it. Right, Hermione?"

"Harry?" she repeated, an urgent tone in her voice.

His jaw was clenched and he glared at Voldemort. He took a brave step forward and said, "I'm afraid we can't let you go." Harry pointed his wand over at Ginny. "And I think you're bluffing... Rennervate!"

Just as he'd expected her to, her eyes fluttered open and she sat up, holding her head and grimacing. A victorious grin came across Harry's face as his eyes met with Ginny's for the first time in over a year. Even in her disheveled state, she returned the smile and he felt relief wash over him. She'd only been Stunned! It made perfect sense because Voldemort could barely even lift his own arms....

The Dark Lord was watching him silently, yet there was something in his crimson eyes that nagged at the back of his mind and made him uneasy.

"I... gave you two choices." Although he had spoken in a whisper, everyone had gone quiet so they could hear him. "And now you will die."

Then before he could react, Ron angrily pushed past Harry and shouted, "AVADA KEDAV-" but a sickly, pale arm wrenched his wand out of his hands and snapped it in its cold grip. He spun around, a look of horror on his face as he looked into the unseeing, milky whites of Lucius Malfoy's eyes. "What the-"

The Inferius closed another hand around his neck and slowly raised him up into the air until his feet were dangling. Hermione shouted, "Ron!" and shot off a fire spell at the animated corpse, but it went wide of its mark as her arm was pulled out of the way by another Inferius. She turned her head and a panicked look came across her face as she saw the rest of the former Death Eaters clumsily stalking toward them. "Harry! Get Voldemort!"

"Riddle!" bellowed Harry, storming off toward Voldemort, who was still leaning against the wall, not making any move to defend himself.

Somewhere behind him he heard Ginny scream.

'Ginny! She doesn't have a wand!' he thought. He hastily spun away from Voldemort, noticing a slight smirk come across the wizard's face as he did so. But he didn't have time to fight him, not now when he had to help his friends ward off the Inferi.

"Incendio!" he shouted. Golden flames blasted out from the end of his wand and ignited the robes of another Death Eater. Several of the Inferi halted in their footsteps, shying away from the heat and light. "Hold on, Ginny! I'm coming!"

As he made his way over to her, shooting off flames at the walking corpses, he saw Ron get viciously thrown to the ground. His head collided brutally with the cement floor and he laid there, unmoving.

"Ron!" Hermione's anguished cry sliced through the din in the tiny room. Harry's eyes widened when he saw that she was being held from behind by two Inferi who were pulling at her hair and her arms, preventing her from reaching Ron. "Harry! Help!"

His eyes flashed dangerously and he sent a jet of searing fire onto one of the Inferi holding Hermione. It let out an inhuman wail but it did not relent in its assault and it jerked her arm violently; Harry heard his best friend's cry of pain as her shoulder was dislocated. He raised his wand to fire again but he was distracted by a yell in the opposite direction. Ginny! Harry whirled around, blindly letting loose with two fireballs. They each found their mark, burning a wide hole into the chest of Bellatrix Lestrange, but the damage was already done - three other Death Eaters had fallen over Ginny and were mercilessly clawing at her arms and her face.

"Har-ry!" It was Hermione. There were bright splotches of blood on her face but she was still in the fight. Her left arm hung uselessly by her side but her wand arm was outstretched and her hand was wide open. "My wand!"

There was too much going on - Ginny was about to be bludgeoned to death, Ron was minutes away from dying if he wasn't already dead, Hermione was about to be dismembered and she needed her wand, and what was Voldemort doing? Along the edge of his vision he saw Voldemort with his eyes closed, mumbling something under his breath-

But there was no time to deal with him. There were more pressing matters at hand.

Summoning all of the concentration he had, Harry searched for Hermione's wand along the ground and found it in less than a second. He dove toward it and did a roll, plucking it up along the way and sending it in her direction as he got up. His heart leapt when she caught it and delivered a handful of blue flames to the face of the Death Eater holding onto her. The battle was not yet over.

Turning his attention back to Ginny, he sprinted back to where she was lying on the ground. She was still swatting and kicking at her assailants, but her return attacks were becoming slower and weaker as her endurance waned.

"Petrificus Totalus! Petrificus Totalus!" Two of the dead bodies stumbled and fell away from her, their limbs locked at their sides, and he could see her face again. It was bloodied and covered with dirt but there was a glimmer in her eyes, there was a liveliness to them - and in her every movement there was passion. Ginny Weasley did not want to die. Not yet. She let out a shout, a rallying battle cry, and with an explosion of adrenaline, she overpowered the third Inferius, wrestling it over onto its back until she was the one on top. Her clenched fist was raised into the air and then it came down with full force straight into the Death Eater's face. She did it again, and again, and again, until her knuckles were chewed and red and the body did not move anymore.

All of that happened in about six seconds.

Seeing that neither Hermione nor Ginny needed his assistance anymore, he looked for Ron. His stomach flipped when he saw his best mate - Ron's face had gone pale and he saw a nasty gash on the back of his head that was leaking blood. There was nothing he could do about it. Ron was going to die here if he couldn't end this fight soon.

"Harry, look out!"

He didn't have time to think about whether it was Hermione or Ginny shouting at him before an ice cold hand came barreling into his face. Harry stumbled backward, dizzied from the unexpected assault and raised his wand - but he lost his voice when he looked up.

There were dozens more of them, slowly ambling down the short corridor from the main part of the basement. Was it ever going to end?

Thinking had no place in a heated fight like this. Shoving his misgivings about the outcome of the battle to the back of his mind, he took a few daring steps forward, facing the advancing crowd of rotting flesh. He was about to attempt a spell that he'd seen Dumbledore use in his duel against Voldemort at the Ministry. If done correctly, a long, fiery rope would emerge from the tip of his wand and he could use it to force the Inferi out of the room. The only catch to the plan was that he'd never performed the spell or even correctly been taught how to use it. There were a great deal of things that could go horribly wrong if he cast it incorrectly, but he'd learned so much about offensive spells and hexes in the last year... it was worth a try....

He exhaled slowly. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Flagello Creare Incendiam!"

The instant after he shouted the spell, he knew he'd done it correctly because a long, snake-like chain burst out of his wand and crackled through the air. Harry brought his wand around in a tight arc and the whip swung to the right, catching the Inferi along their sides, hissing as it sizzled through rotting flesh and bone. The fiery rope allowed him to easily contain the mass of Death Eaters and push them out of the fight away from his friends. He grunted as he pulled the whip back and lashed out at the corralled Inferi, using the flames to slice through their bodies.

When all that was left was a quivering assortment of severed limbs, he turned around to survey the battle. After getting her wand back, Hermione had successfully managed to disable the last few Death Eaters around her and she was now tending to Ron, wearing a frightened expression on her face. Ginny had somehow found a wand from somewhere and she was leaning heavily against the wall, keeping it pointed directly at Voldemort, who hadn't moved at all during the entire fight.

Harry flicked his wand and the magical chain disappeared. He cast a few cursory glances around the room and after determining that there was nothing more to be done, he strode over to the Dark Lord.

"You've failed, Tom," he said simply, regarding the other man.

Voldemort spit blood at his feet and sneered up at him.

"Harry?" came the tiny voice of Hermione. His eyes darted over to her, where she knelt by Ron's prone form along the ground. She looked down and tenderly stroked his ashen cheek. "He's... he's not breathing..." Her voice began to tremble and her eyes glistened with tears. "And I can't find a pulse...."

"Ron?"

"Harry, I - I think he's-"

He forgot all about facing down Voldemort and hurried over to his best friend, kneeling down beside Hermione. His jaw fell open when he felt the coldness of Ron's skin. As he looked at his friend's lifeless face, he felt Hermione's shaky hand clutch his shoulder and he heard her quiet sobs. "Hermione, I-"

She looked up into his eyes. There was sadness, weariness, and resignation in her gaze - but above all else, there was fury. Her grip on his shoulder tightened and he suddenly realized that she was shaking not from sorrow but from rage. A solid weight pressed down relentlessly onto his chest. He knew what she was going to say next. Hermione's hazel eyes, normally bright with amusement and affection in the company of Harry and Ron, were now wintry and sullen.

"Harry," she said, her voice murderously quiet, "I want you to kill him."

He nodded soberly and stood up, purposefully advancing toward Voldemort once more. Without a single word, he took aim with his wand-

"Wait!" cried Ginny. She looked at Harry pleadingly. "Let me do it," she begged softly. "He was my brother, I deserve to be the one-"

"Ginny," he began, a stern tone underscoring his words, "I can't let you. The prophecy-"

"I don't care what the bloody prophecy says," she bit out, glaring at both him and Voldemort. "Look at him. He's weak. Anybody could kill him."

Harry glanced over at the dark wizard again and gasped when he saw that he was standing tall with his arms stretched behind him, his chest thrust out, and his chin pointed up. Voldemort licked his lips and an expression of ecstasy appeared on his wasted face. Then he grinned and he began to laugh - not sounding raspy or weak, but instead his voice was deep, healthy, and rich.

"Harry? G-Ginny?" Hermione had her wand pointed at Voldemort but her arm was shaking badly.

Voldemort looked at her and smirked. In a bored drawl he said, "Your boyfriend's soul was quite... refreshing."

"How dare you," she started in a harsh whisper, staring at him in horror. Her eyes hardened and she jabbed her wand at him and shouted, "Expell-"

In the blink of an eye, Voldemort summoned one of his Death Eater's wands to him and with a deft twist of his wrist, blasted Hermione clear across the room where she crashed into a wall and sank to the floor.

Harry immediately leapt into the fray, shooting his most powerful curses and hexes at Voldemort, with Ginny not too far behind him. The Dark Lord deflected all of the spells with ease, the smile on his face becoming wilder and more disturbing with each failed attempt to harm him.

"Dumbledore sent children to fight me!" he roared gleefully, moving around the room with a surprising amount of dexterity, sharply contrasting with the earlier weakness he had shown. "Crucio!"

The curse zipped by Harry and destroyed a section of the wall, creating a cloud of dirt and dust behind him. Voldemort cackled and tried the Cruciatus again.

"Crucio!"

Harry again managed to dodge it, but Ginny was not as fortunate and the curse struck her in the stomach, knocking her off her feet. Her tormented screams immediately filled the room and she helplessly thrashed around on the floor.

"You bastard-"

He wasn't able to finish the insult before he was thrown off balance by one of Voldemort's spells. The dark wizard regarded Harry with a look of satisfaction. "I'll deal with you in a moment."

Harry struggled to his feet, to search for his wand which had fallen out of his hands, but he was in too much pain and his body refused to obey his commands. He could only watch in frustration as Voldemort approached Ginny like the predator he was, watching in perverse fascination as she suffered under the effects of the Cruciatus.

"I can be merciful," he pronounced grandly, shooting a smug sidelong glance at Harry as he did so. "I am not entirely without compassion for others." The breath caught in Harry's throat and his mouth suddenly went dry as Voldemort carelessly pointed his stolen wand at Ginny, who was still squirming about. "I now release you from your tortured existence, young one. Avada Kedavra!"

Ginny instantly ceased moving and her body lie still, contorted into an abnormal position, looking like a marionette that had been distastefully cast aside after its strings had been severed.

She was dead.

"No!" he screamed, cursing himself for not being able to protect her. He let out a pained cry, full of grief and anger and hatred. Harry doubled his efforts to get up and slowly stood tall, glaring at Ginny's murderer. "You're dead, Tom."

A faint shadow of a smile crossed Voldemort's face and then it was gone. "Avada-

"Avada-"

Twin jets of sickly green light shot out and locked with each other in between the two dueling wizards. A great din rumbled throughout the room as waves of magical energy rolled forth from the connection of the curses.

"Did you forget, Harry?" shouted Voldemort over the noise. "Priori Incantatem! Our wands will not allow us to kill each other!" His eyes shimmered with malicious intent and he curled his lip, showing his teeth. "But this time, oh this time, young Harry, I will defeat you."

Through gritted teeth Harry yelled back at him, "I didn't forget, Tom."

Then, before the darkest wizard in the world could fathom that last statement, Harry pulled a dagger out of a sheath he kept around his ankle and threw it as hard as he could directly at the other man's chest. There was a rumbling thunderclap as the massive collection of energy dissipated into the air when the connection was broken and both men were blown away from the explosion.

Harry was on his feet in a heartbeat, his wand out, prepared for battle - but his opponent was still on his back. His dagger had found its mark and was buried deep in the dark wizard's chest; Voldemort's wand had slipped out of his hand and his eyes had lost their crimson glow. It was over.

Lord Voldemort was dead - felled not by magical means, but by a simple Muggle dagger. Harry would have laughed at the irony of the situation if there was anyone else around to laugh with.

Ginny was gone, murdered by Voldemort. Ron was dead as well, killed at the hands of Lucius Malfoy. And what of Hermione...?

He rushed over to her crumpled form on the floor. "Hermione?" he called out quietly, reaching for her, cradling her head in his hands. "Hermione, wake up, it's me."

His heart leapt with joy when her eyes fluttered and she stared up at the ceiling. A wearied smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "It's... you...." she mumbled.

"Yes! Yes, it's me!" Harry brushed away a stray tear trickling down his cheek. "Everything's going to be all right, Hermione! I promise, I swear to you..."

But something wasn't right. Her eyes were unfocused and there was an absent, dreamy quality to her voice.... Did he feel blood on his hands? Her blood? Harry thought furiously, running through options in his mind, ways he could save her.

"Ron," she went on, her words slurring themselves together, "I... I don't know if I ever told you... I love you."

He pulled his hand away and gazed at it, a sinking feeling landing in his chest. His fingers were tinged with Hermione's warm blood. Attempting healing magic was one thing, but trying to fix a head injury with his level of experience was likely to do more harm than good to her... and he couldn't Disapparate either, the Anti-Apparition protection around the farmhouse prevented that.

Barring a miracle, Harry was going to witness Hermione die.

The least he could do was make her feel comfortable in her last few minutes of life.

"Ron? Ron...?" she called out feebly. "Are... are you still there?"

Not knowing what else he could do, Harry replied, "Yes. Yes, I'm here, Hermione."

A beatific smile spread across her face and she closed her eyes, sighing contentedly. "Ron, I don't know... I don't know how much longer I'll be here...."

"It's okay," he answered in a whisper, allowing his tears to fall freely. "It doesn't matter. I'll just meet you... on the other side."

"Oh, Ron-"

"I...." He hesitated. Would it be right to continue on with the masquerade? Harry peered down at Hermione, looking so beautiful and so very pale, sitting precariously on the edge between life and death. He gulped and held onto her hand gently. "Hermione... I love you."

Her hand squeezed his tightly and then the pressure was abruptly released.

"Goodbye," he heard himself say, his voice hoarse.

Harry Potter had saved the world - but what kind of a world was left? Voldemort had taken everyone who'd ever meant something to him: his parents, Sirius, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione. Was there anything worth living for anymore?

An irrational anger flared up inside him. Why had he been chosen to be the one to triumph over Voldemort? It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. There were tens of thousands of wizards and millions of Muggles who would never be able to fully appreciate what he'd done here or what he'd sacrificed for them. There were millions of people who could go on living happy lives with their friends and family, never knowing, never caring about Lord Voldemort and his sadistic Death Eaters....

"To hell with it," he bitterly spat out, sinking down against the wall, not daring to look at any of the four freshly fallen corpses in the room with him. His voice began to tremble. "I don't care any... a-anymore...."

New tears began to trickle down his face and although he was clenching his teeth together, he could not keep his jaw from quivering. He pointed his wand shakily at his own wrist, allowing the wood tip to brush against his skin. In his head, he knew what he wanted to do - he knew that he wanted to escape and be rid of his problems. He wanted to be with his friends again... forever.

But the words wouldn't come out. His entire body was shaking and he kept thinking to himself, 'This is what I want, I need to do this for myself.'

He sniffed once and hastily brushed away the tears from his eyes. That wasn't right - he was brave... why was he crying? He'd faced down the darkest wizard in fifty years and defeated him mere moments ago, so why was he so afraid of what he wanted to do?

"Damn it, Harry," he snapped out loud. He shook his head in frustration and a grimace swept over his face. "Diffindo! DIFFINDO!"

Crisp, deep gashes appeared in his skin and before he could stop himself, he switched hands and repeated the spell on his other arm. Blood trickled freely from his wrists and he had difficulty maneuvering the wand with his weakened hands, but after fumbling around for a minute, he snapped his beloved wand in half and chucked the pieces into opposite corners of the room.

"There," he said to nobody. "Now there's... no temptation...."

Harry closed his eyes and waited for sweet oblivion to take him.

* * *

He was very, very lost, and he was trying to swim as well, but he was having difficulty keeping his head above the water. Breathing seemed to have become a foreign task to him - it almost felt like his body had forgotten how to - and a certain part of his brain wondered, 'Well, wouldn't it be easier to just stop trying altogether?'

No. That wasn't right at all. He had to keep trying, he had to breathe, he had to push on and swim far, far away because... well, because he had to.

From somewhere in the distance - or was it very close? He couldn't tell. There was noise - there was a song that sounded like it was emanating from all around him. Beautiful, haunting harmonies echoed throughout his head, buoying him above the surface, allowing air - sweet, fresh air to fill his lungs and give him that added push to make him move again.

He heard sweeping counterpoint harmonies and there was light.

Over to his side, a warm, comforting voice said, "He's alive."

* * *

The crackling fire was reflected in Dumbledore's spectacles, but not in his eyes. In a quiet voice he explained, "A few members of the Order and myself arrived just in time to save you, Harry. If we had been delayed by even a single minute...."

"So," began Harry, still struggling to come to terms with the fact that he'd attempted to kill himself. "What happened next?

The headmaster's eyes flicked over to Harry for the barest of seconds and a sad little smile appeared behind his beard. "I brought you here," he answered plainly. "I wouldn't have left you there, Harry."

"Yes, I know," he went on impatiently. "I meant-"

"And for two years," Dumbledore continued quietly, cutting him off. "I kept you at Hogwarts, under my watch." He paused, his expression pained. "I am not proud of what I have done."

Harry kept his lips pressed firmly together, not knowing what to say. At length, he finally asked, "How?"

"Harry," Dumbledore muttered, taking a deep breath and frowning slightly. "You... you're...."

Never before had Harry ever seen the great headmaster at a loss for words. "Sir?" he prompted gently.

Those intense, wizened eyes stared at him and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Harry," the headmaster said, his voice sounding strangely distant, "to me, you're the grandson I never had."

"I was a fool," Dumbledore bit out, shaking his head. "I wanted to protect you, shelter you. After all you'd been through... after all I'd put you through... I felt you deserved to be happy.

"I created a world for you, Harry. Right inside this very castle. It was a world where your friends Ron and Hermione-"

"And Ginny," he interrupted.

"Yes, and Ginny, too, were still alive." Dumbledore gazed at him over his golden frames. "For you, as long as you stayed in that world, you could always be happy. There was no Voldemort - there were no Death Eaters. There were your friends, and you."

"A fantasy world..." breathed Harry, trying to comprehend living in such a place.

"I kept watch over you every day," he resumed, folding his fingers together in his lap. "Until one day, you didn't smile as much... and it gradually got worse as the days passed. Finally, you confronted me."

"I confronted you?"

He leaned forward in his seat and said, "You remembered." Those two words shocked Harry into silence and Dumbledore smiled kindly. "So I erased your memory-" Harry's expression darkened "-and I sent you back. But it was not to be. You kept coming back to me, quicker each time, and you would always remember what had happened."

"Why couldn't you just let me go?" he questioned. Harry glanced at the older man, curious to know why he had done this to him.

"I didn't want you to try and hurt yourself again." The headmaster sighed and sagged down in his seat. "The last time you came to me, I tried to erase not just the memory of the deaths of your friends... but everything you'd ever known. Then, to ensure that you would not have another relapse, I sent you out into the Muggle world... far away from anything that I felt would help you to remember."

"Yet here I am," stated Harry resolutely, looking at Dumbledore gravely.

"Yes, here you are," mumbled the old wizard.

The two men stared at each other for a long moment. To anyone observing them, it would have appeared that they were sizing each other up, preparing for battle. But then Dumbledore held his hands out at his sides, palms up.

"I have wronged you, Harry," he said sincerely, regretfully, "and for that, I am sorry." The headmaster looked down at the floor. "If... if there is anything I can do...."

"No," he responded curtly as he stood up. "I'm leaving."

"Where will you go?" Dumbledore asked softly, not bothering to stand up.

"Where else?" Harry countered, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head. "I'm going home."

A/N 10/2/06:

The suicide attempt scene was the most difficult part of this entire chapter to write because, for me, it was very personal.

Obliviate is finished right now. I will be writing an epilogue to tie up loose ends and answer some questions that have gone unanswered so far. What did you think? What did you like? What didn't you like? Reviews are always appreciated!