Content Harry Potter Miscellaneous
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Author Notes:

Do I really need to say character death, horrible images, and general mayhem? It's the Final Battle, after all. I also disclaim Voldie's speech to Harry, which is mostly from Deathly Hallows, though I've tweaked it to make it line up better with DV.

"So." Remus stroked his hand across the four furry forms which had planted themselves between him and Danger, finishing with a little tug on Wolf's unruly black ruff. "I understand we have a plan?"

"Sort of, kind of, more or less." Sirius shrugged. "A little more less than more."

"It's clearer now that you're here," said Aletha, bumping her shoulder into Sirius's affectionately. "But the basic structure remains the same. Voldemort wants to kill Harry—all right, we'll let him do that. Or rather, we'll let him think he's done that. And then we make him think that everything's going to start working backwards."

"The deeper magic, from before the dawn of time." Danger nodded, looking around the clearing in the Forbidden Forest which the Pack and Pride had claimed for their own (Neville and Luna had tacitly worked together to delay their own, Ron, and Ginny's arrival at the spot, to allow the Pack a bit of time for their full reunion). "Though in this case, mainly smoke and mirrors."

"Yes, well, what about the case where it wasn't?" Sirius poked Danger on the knee, provoking a soft growl and a smack on the arm in return. "Mr. Padfoot cannot help but notice that Mr. Moony is surprisingly lively for a dead man."

"Because Mr. Moony never truly was. Dead, that is." Remus let his hand rest on Fox's furred back. "Though it's worth noting that Voldemort must suspect the existence of the Horcrux Vivens bond, because if his plan had worked, I would be." He turned his hand over to twine his fingers with Danger's. "We both would be."

"But it didn't work." Aletha rubbed her left elbow, her eyes abstracted. "Because Corona fought back against the Imperius. Because she weakened the poison, and stopped herself from striking for Danger's heart."

"And that bought us just enough time." Danger reached around to scratch the corner of Neenie's furred jaw, then caressed the base of Pearl's soft ears. "Time for me to make sure you wouldn't be killed trying to help me, and time for Harry to go to the Founders and bargain for my healing."

"Because as long as one of you is alive, your souls are both anchored in the world, so neither of you can fully die." Sirius shook his head in wonder. "What happened in between?"

"A surprisingly prosaic stay at the Founders' Hogwarts." Remus chuckled once. "As prosaic as that ever is. But it's where we ended up, and where we've been eavesdropping on you. Shamelessly, I might add, except that you probably already know that."

"You two. Shameless." Aletha pursed her lips, considering. "Yes, those concepts do seem to fit together nicely."

Danger stuck out her tongue at her friend. "You should talk. Doing experimental Healer work on my poor husband while he couldn't say yes or no for himself!"

"A procedure we'd already discussed in a theoretical sense, and for which she did have the approval of my legal next of kin." Remus tapped a chiding finger on top of Danger's head, and pulled it out of the way as she snapped her teeth at it. "Looking for trouble tonight, aren't you?"

"She won't need to go looking for it pretty soon." Sirius turned his head, listening. "It'll come and find us. Which means we ought to be getting into position." He got up and helped Danger to do the same, then scooped her into a tight hug, lifting her off her feet and making her squeak. "Don't you ever scare me like that again," he told her before he put her down and turned to Remus. "You neither. Got that?"

"I'm hoping I never have to." Remus embraced his friend in turn. "You'd have done the same," he murmured close to Sirius's ear. "You know you would."

"That's beside the point."

"No, that is the point."

"Is not."

"Is so."

"Is not."

"Is not."

"Is s—wait a minute!"

Remus only snickered and turned to accept hugs from the once-more-human cubs, since Danger and Aletha had withdrawn a few steps to talk together. Meghan took her turn first, holding onto him as tightly as her slender arms could manage. "Thank you for not being dead," she whispered to him. "So, so much."

"You're welcome, love. And thank you for the same." Remus kissed his goddaughter's forehead, directly over the scowl lines, then turned to Hermione. "Tonight you're Lucy, but next summer you might just be Susan again," he said quietly as he held her close, and felt the little quiver and leap of her muscles when his meaning struck home. "But keep that to yourself for now."

"I will." Hermione leaned against his shoulder. "What was the price?" she asked, her own voice low and worried. "You and Danger have to have paid something, for that and for being alive. Nothing ever comes free."

"We made our choices, Kitten, like you made yours." Remus traced his fingers through soft brown waves of hair. "You're right that gain always comes with loss, but in this case it's nothing we can't live without. A natural consequence, really." He looked down into the hazel eyes now flecked with gray, and smiled as his mind presented him with image after image of these same eyes upturned to his throughout the years, filled sometimes with joy and sometimes with sorrow but always, always with love. "It's nothing to be afraid of," he said firmly. "Trust me."

"I do." Hermione leaned up to kiss his cheek. "I always have." She giggled a little. "Moo-nee nice," she said in a little-girl treble, and Remus laughed and returned the kiss before releasing his daughter to turn to the first of his sons.

"Scared, Greeneyes?" he asked.

"Some. Not too much." Harry's eyes seemed to hold an inner light, as though he were still Wolf, peering towards some dim and distant fire. "If it works the way we want it to, we can't possibly lose. And if it doesn't, at least this time I'll be doing my own fighting…"

The fey look died away from his face, leaving behind the earnest teenager Remus knew so well, struggling to find words to explain a life-scarring experience. "I hated it," he said after a few moments of silence. "Watching that. Watching you. It was—no." He shook his head hard, the motion continuing down through his shoulders and arms. "That's not how it's supposed to be. I'm grown-up now. I'm the warrior. I should be able to stop that sort of thing, not just sit and let it happen!"

"It's a father's job to protect his children." Remus rumpled Harry's hair as he had earlier done to Wolf's ruff. "However grown-up or warlike they may be."

"Except for tonight. Tonight, it's my turn to protect you. To protect everybody." A brief smile sprang to Harry's lips. "And there's nothing you can do about it, because Trelawney's prophecy and Danger both said so."

"Far be it from me to stand in the way of fate, or of my lady." Remus gave Harry a brief, tight hug, smiling to himself at the answering pressure of his cub's strong arms. "Though I do think that if Voldemort had any sense, he'd be running away from you as fast as he knows how to run."

"If he had any sense, we wouldn't all be in this bloody mess in the first place." Harry disengaged from the hug and bowed his head formally, and Remus laid his fingers lightly on the back of Harry's neck, letting the touch convey pride, hope, love, none of which could be adequately expressed in words. After one more shared smile, alpha to alpha, Harry loped away across the clearing, to the spot where most of the rest of the Pride had congregated to begin their preparations.

Most, but not all…

"What gave me away?" asked a voice from the edge of the clearing, where a tall, slim silhouette could just be discerned against the tree-shaded evening. "When did you know?"

"Almost as soon as I scented you." Remus tapped a finger to the side of his nose. "That werewolf-scent potion you helped Letha develop is good, but it was starting to wear off. But I would have discounted that if it hadn't been for the other part of it."

"Other part of what?" Fox shifted his position enough to give Remus a look at his features, closed down into the mask which meant deep distress he thought it either wrong or dangerous to show. "Where did I go wrong?"

"You didn't. Or rather, the reaction you had was probably unavoidable, and I doubt anyone else would have elicited it, or caught it if they had." Remus seated himself on a fallen log, keeping his eyes on Fox. "I've had quite a while to learn how to sort through human emotional scents, and the difference here may be subtle, but once you've learned it, it's hard to mistake. Even in his own home, without my wand, and with my other magic contained, the real Lucius Malfoy would have been at least a little afraid of me. But you." He smiled. "You were afraid for me."

"I wasn't wrong." Fox leaned forward now, eyes narrowed, teeth exposed. "Dammit, Moony, he killed you! And I had to stand there and watch, and feel—"

"I know." Remus was up and across the clearing in a smooth rush of motion, catching Fox as he started to crumple. "I'm so sorry for that." His arms closed around Fox, who stiffened for an instant, then made a breathy little sound which could have been either a sob or a laugh and wrapped his own arms around Remus, shaking in every limb.

"That's my boy," Remus murmured as a curtain of fire shielded them from the rest of the occupants of the clearing. "That's my Fox. I've got you. It's over now." As he had two nights before, he tapped his fingers against Fox's arm, thumb, ring, middle, the unspoken code for I love you which the Pack had used from their earliest days. "And after tonight, it will all be over."

"But will it?" Fox's voice trembled, until he drew a deep breath or two and pulled away from the embrace, sitting down on the Forest floor, Remus following his lead. "Is it ever going to be over, really and truly over? I'm ruined for any kind of normal life now. I can barely even speak to people I've known for years without wanting to run away and hide. How long is the Pride going to put up with dead weight like me? With someone who can't contribute anything, who can barely get his arse out of bed in the morning, never mind getting out of the house?"

Remus had to mask a smile at the decided Hmph in the back of his mind. "Is it always necessary to get out of the house to contribute?" he asked. "And no, I don't mean that it's all right for you to do nothing because you happen to have inherited a pile of gold," he added quickly, feeling Danger's answering chuckle at the baffled look on Fox's face. Clearly one of his self-deprecating arguments had been countered before it could be put into words. "But tell me this. Out of the four of us, the Pack-parents, who tends to stay home the most?"

"Danger." The answer was immediate. "She likes it in the Den. It's her place, her center. Where she wants to belong. Where she does belong."

"And would you say that Danger is dead weight on the Pack, that she doesn't contribute anything?" This time Remus didn't bother to hide the smile at Fox's exaggerated expression of horror and frantic head-shaking, complete with warding motions of his hands. "Of course not. She works harder on any given day than those of us with so-called 'real jobs'. And she has control over almost every aspect of her life, over what she does and when, over who she sees and talks with."

"That sounds wonderful." Fox looked down at his hands, as though he were seeing them in a new light. "It seems so strange, though. I've always loved it when people were looking at me, so long as I knew what I was doing. I wanted to impress everyone, to be the best and have everybody know it. And now…now all I want is quiet. Quiet, and home, and people I love who love me back. I don't care if anybody other than the Pack and Pride ever says my name again for as long as I live." His eyes gleamed. "Well, maybe when we have kids, Luna and I. I'll want to hear how they're upholding the fine Marauder tradition of driving all their teachers up the wall."

"Remind me to send in my resignation the year your first-born arrives." Remus got to his feet and held down a hand for Fox. "Come on, let's get into costume. The sooner we start this show, the sooner it's over with, and then we can get on with those quiet lives." He chuckled. "You might want to see about borrowing Fang to patrol the grounds at the Manor Den for the first few months, to keep the reporters away."

"Fang? You're kidding, right?" Fox snorted. "The worst he'd do would be lick them all to death! If we really want to discourage them, we'll get Lynx to bite off a couple of their kneecaps, or have Redwing and Starwing dive-bomb them…"

Above, the sky darkened further, moving swiftly towards true night.


An explosion struck at the walls of Hogwarts, sending the ancient stones toppling inwards. The Death Eaters grouped before it bellowed in victory and pushed forward, to the accompaniment of screams from the other side. Spells flew thick and fast, holding the invaders at the breach for the moment, but the nerve of the young witches and wizards in the front line was visibly wavering.

Bellatrix, hidden beneath her mask, laughed softly to herself and chose her target, a tall girl with brown hair who was holding a shield over herself and a group of others. One of their own turning on them would panic them faster than anything else could do.

Imperio, she thought with diamond clarity, and watched the young witch jerk slightly as the spell struck home. Say and do only things you ordinarily might, until I give the word, she instructed. Then turn and strike at… A moment of observation netted her a tall, dark-skinned boy a few places down, bolstering up one of the faltering flanks of the defensive position. Him. Stun him before he knows what is happening, let us take him prisoner, and drop your wand and give yourself up. You have no need to fight. We will spare your lives, even allow you to live comfortably, and all in exchange for this small service…

The girl's mind fluttered in panic beneath the stifling softness of the Imperius Curse, then quieted. Her left hand went to her right arm and came away with a small, circular object which gleamed green in the light of the glowing balls floating overhead. On the other side of the formation, the young wizard Bellatrix had noted stiffened in surprise or shock.

Her hand pressed to her robes, the girl stepped clear of her Shield Spell and faced Bellatrix fully, her brown eyes filled with defiance. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, her scornful words ringing clearly over the shouting of spells.

Bellatrix heard the sound of rushing wind begin behind her, and half-turned to stop whoever was casting the curse, but it was already too late.

A bolt of green light struck the young witch full in the chest, just below the bracelet of intertwined serpents she held against her heart.


"That's it, that's the signal!" Percy waved at his own group of defenders, pulling them back from the crumbling bit of wall they'd been holding in place with magic and luck. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

Together, the little group sprinted across the Hogwarts lawns, Percy shining a red light from his wand to show them the way without destroying their night vision, Fred and one of the DA skirmishers taking it in turns to hold a Shield Spell over the back of the group. Hostile spellfire glanced off it with sounds like water on hot metal, and once Percy felt the rush of a Killing Curse shoot by him, but they were almost at their destination now, Hagrid's Place loomed up before them—

"Ware high!" shrieked a feminine voice, and Percy snapped his wand into the air and flung a Shield Spell upwards just in time, as a series of spell-lights streaked downward from what he could now see was a small contingent of Death Eaters mounted on brooms. Quickly he swirled his wand around the little house at the edge of the Forest, putting up what protections he could as skirmishers and Red Shepherds fled past him into Hagrid's Place, but he was already exhausted from the fight at the boundaries and the spells wouldn't last.

Especially not against four—no, eight of them, he self-corrected with a sinking heart as the four Death Eaters now bringing their broomsticks in for a landing were augmented by four more from the group who'd been chasing them on foot. His people were all safely inside now, and most of them had surely passed through the trapdoor under the bed on their way to Sanctuary, but the Death Eaters would be sure to find that same doorway within a very few minutes.

And we may be able to block it off, but what magic can lay, magic can take away.

Ducking inside, Percy slammed the door against another Killing Curse and leaned against it, regaining his breath. As he'd expected, the interior was almost deserted already, only Fred and Crystal remaining there. It was her voice he'd heard, Percy realized, warning them of the flying menace above them.

Saving our lives, keeping us free, but for what? So that we can watch the Death Eaters break into Sanctuary, and rampage their way through everyone we've tried so hard to save?

Dully, he crossed towards his brother and his colleague, fishing up what few scraps of strength he had left to pay attention to their quiet, urgent conversation.

"I know there are built-in shields on here already," Crystal was insisting, glaring at Fred, her hands on her hips. "I remember you two arguing with Lee and Maya about what order to put the layers!"

"They're already inside those shields, though," Fred countered. "We might be able to push them out again, but—"

"But the shields weren't designed for defending this place." Percy shook his head, astounded by how hard the simple gesture was to make. "They face the other way. Controlling energy from the inside, not the outside. Designed as a safeguard, in case something went wrong in here, with—"

He broke off, seeing the same realization on Fred's and Crystal's faces as had just shot through his own mind.

As one, they looked up.

Five pyramids built from bricks of a reddish-brown substance sat in the rafters above them.

"Well, well." Crystal snickered. "When in doubt indeed."

"But we still have a problem." With difficulty, Percy drew his mind back to the issue at hand. "They'll expect us to have laid traps in here, so they'll be ready to nullify any spell we'd leave behind. Including one to set that off. And the same goes for something mechanical—they've already seen us using Muggle tools, and I know there are spells designed to destroy anything with moving parts…"

"So we use the one thing they can't control or destroy from a distance." Fred shrugged. "How many of them were there?"

"Eight, I think." Percy closed his eyes for an instant to remember. "Yes, eight of them."

"Perfect." Fred levitated the gigantic bed out of the way, revealing the trapdoor in the floor, left ajar by the last person through. "Ladies first."

"You've got that bloody well straight," said Crystal sharply, and Percy had to stifle a snort of laughter in his sleeve. "See you on the other side." Blowing a kiss to Fred and saluting Percy, she pulled the trapdoor open and dropped down lightly into the passage beneath, disappearing from view.

"What are you going to—" Percy began, then staggered back a step as a Disarmer and an Impediment Jinx struck him in quick succession. Fred caught Percy's wand neatly in his right hand, his eyes strangely alight.

"I'm sorry, Perce," he said, and tossed the wand into the passage under the trapdoor, following it with a Banishing Spell. "But it's probably better this way. Tell Mum I love her, would you?"

A quick swish and flick, and Percy felt himself lifted into the air and lowered neatly to the passage below. The Impediment Jinx began to wear off just as his feet touched the floor.

"Run," Fred told him quietly, and shut the trapdoor with a soft thud.

Wrenching himself free from the last vestiges of the Jinx, Percy fled down the passage towards Sanctuary, scooping up his wand on the fly and conjuring three stone walls behind him, lining the third with a resilient layer of waxed canvas. Crystal's blonde hair was a blur of yellow further down the passage, hazed not only by the infrequent lanterns which lit the way but by the wash of tears over his eyes.

"We're not going to lose Fred," her voice echoed inside Percy's mind. "We already have…"


The Death Eater in the lead of the attacking force yelled in triumph as the flimsy shields around the hut-like outbuilding failed, and charged forward, his three best fighters and the four from the broomstick battalion following him. Spells shot ahead of them, shattering the windows and ensuring no time-delayed magic or nasty toys like the ones the stupid children had been using from the towers remained functional inside the stone walls.

We'll teach them better manners, once we've got them properly brought to heel. The Death Eater licked his lips, thinking of all those naughty little ones who needed proper lessoning, proper discipline, to learn their places and be grateful for what scraps of power the true rulers of the world chose to throw them. And it starts here, now, tonight…

He burst in through the door, shining his wand's light around the rudely appointed room. It was empty, but that didn't concern him. The tiny place could hardly have held all the children he'd seen disappearing into it in any case, so there had to be some kind of exit.

And once we find it, we'll have them, and any of their lot who're hiding there with them…

A small noise behind him made him whirl. A red-haired boy, one of the pair who'd been shielding the runners from behind, stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes sparking with madness as he looked the Death Eaters over.

"Welcome to my parlor," he said, and fired a spell straight up into the rafters.

The Death Eater had just time to wonder what that might mean before five hundred pounds of Semtex made their own meaning completely, cataclysmically clear.


Lord Voldemort was just stepping across the crumbled wall onto Hogwarts's grounds when an instant's brilliant flare of fire turned night into day. Less than a second later, an earsplitting boom shook the night, striking the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters with all the physical force of a hard blow to the chest.

"That way!" shouted Bellatrix, tearing off her mask to let her face be seen. "Hurry!"

Yes, do hurry. Lord Voldemort watched his army go stampeding off into the darkness before he strolled away himself in a slightly different direction. Harry Potter's bookish sister, before he had caged her and the traitor Severus Snape to be destroyed by his dear Nagini, had given him a most valuable piece of information. Hurry to see whatever the children have set up for your entertainment, while I gain for myself the world's most powerful wand…

The white marble tomb of Albus Dumbledore was soon reached, and with a single spell the Dark Lord split its top wide open. The old man's body lay in repose on its cushioned bed, looking, in the starlight, surprisingly whole and alive.

But that is nonsense. No spell can awaken the dead. And neither can the dead claim possessions, which means…

Lord Voldemort leaned over and plucked the long, slim wooden rod from its place between Dumbledore's fingers, laying down the yew wand which had served him for so long beside the body of his former enemy.

Which means, by right of conquest, that the Elder Wand is mine. Just as Hogwarts will soon be mine, both by conquest and by birthright. A worthy castle in which a Dark Lord may dwell, and from which he may rule the wizarding world.

But first I must deal with Harry Potter.

He turned to gaze at the castle, its windows shuttered and dark. A frontal assault had carried them onto the grounds, but the walls at the boundaries of Hogwarts had been built as decoration and demarcation, not with any serious intention of defense. The castle walls were sturdier, and neither the students nor the teachers of Hogwarts were fools. They would fight, and fight fiercely, to keep his Death Eaters out of their hallowed halls, and with every spell thrown by either side, precious and irreplaceable magical blood would be spilled.

And yet, we still must find our way into that castle…

Or must we?

Lord Voldemort began to smile, and then to laugh, as the chance thought which had crossed his mind became clearer and clearer by the second.

Use Potter's heroism against him. His vaunted Gryffindor courage and chivalry. Promise him that if he only comes out of the castle to face me, his friends and family—those who remain of them—shall all be spared!

Still laughing, he strode away from Dumbledore's tomb, towards the source of the earlier explosion. And of course, I would not lie to my worthy adversary. His friends and family shall be spared. Spared the dragging dullness of the Muggle-loving life they have led to this point. Spared the terrible trouble of having to make their own decisions about such things as marriage and childbearing.

In the most extreme cases, spared even the pain of taking their next breath.


"And…he's doing it." Sirius forced himself to exhale, then inhale, clearing his lungs from the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, and looked up from the repeater-Map at the rest of the Pack and Pride, along with Severus Snape, looking decidedly uncomfortable in present company, though Sirius couldn't be sure how much of that was the make-up and costuming their plan called for. "He's taking the bait. Heading into the Forest." He looked over at Harry. "You ready for this, kid?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." Harry patted the inside pocket where the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone resided, then pulled on the Invisibility Cloak and vanished from sight. "I'll hit my mark," his voice said from the bit of air which still smelled like him. "Just make sure the rest of you do the same."

"Teach a jarvey to hunt gnomes, why don't you?" muttered Fox, flicking a bit of his regrown hair over his shoulder with an impatient gesture. Luna, beside him, laid a hand against his arm, and he drew a deep breath of his own, visibly calming. "All right. I'm all right. We'll need to circle around behind, once they pick a stopping place," he said to Snape. "How good are you at sneaking in the woods?"

"A few months ago, I followed what I thought might be the music of forest-elves outside Malfoy Manor, and saw something completely different." Snape smirked as Fox blinked in shock and Luna let out a soft "ah" of appreciation. "Yes, I rather suspected I had not been noticed on that occasion. You would hardly have been so bold with me later."

"Good enough to sneak up on them is good enough for me," said Danger with a nod. "And of course we have a bit of an advantage." She motioned to herself, Hermione, and Remus. "As for the rest of you…try not to trip over any ridiculously large logs, please?"

With subdued chuckles and blown kisses and scent-touches, the Pack and Pride scattered, Aletha offering Ron her arm to perch on as Redwing, then covering both of them with a Disillusionment before doing the same to the various animal forms before her. Padfoot the dog rubbed his length against her legs when she was done, then slipped into the night, following the scents of many anxious humans, along with one tainted with the bitter musk of snake.

Dark out here, he thought "loudly", pushing the thoughts outward as he might if he were wearing someone else's pendant chain to speak silently, or joined in a magical bond with them to accomplish something greater than they could do alone (which was, he had to admit, a pretty good description of their plan). Dark and scary. Anything could be living in this Forest. Anything could be waiting around the bend.

Anything could happen tonight.

Anything at all.


As the Death Eaters disposed themselves to rest around the periphery of the large clearing they had found within the Forest, Amycus Carrow kindling a large fire in its center, Lord Voldemort touched the tip of the Elder Wand to his throat, thrilling with the warm rush of power as the spell formed itself before he could make any conscious choice to desire it.

Anything could happen tonight. Including my final victory.

Envisioning his voice echoing out over the trees, through the grounds, into the rooms and corridors of the castle, he began to speak.

"Hear me, defenders of Hogwarts. You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained losses already, and if you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. My forces have already retreated. I give you one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."

The Death Eaters were sniggering among themselves. "Patch 'em up, save us the trouble," one voice rose above the others. "We need 'em alive for what we're going to do…"

Lord Voldemort gave the speaker a quelling glare, silencing him immediately, and continued. "I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you." The mental image of Potter's white, shocked face brought a certain thrill to the speaking of the next words. "You have permitted your friends and family to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences."

Bellatrix sighed once. "I almost hope he doesn't come," she murmured. "All that lovely killing…"

"This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter." Lord Voldemort smiled at his consort, and enjoyed her girlish squeal of glee. "I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me."

"Those that're still alive," muttered another Death Eater, waking further snickers among his comrades.

"One hour," Lord Voldemort finished, and removed the spell with a flick of his wand.

One hour. Perhaps less. And he will come. He will not be able to help it.

Anything can happen tonight.

I must simply make sure it happens in my favor.


Blaise sat in a corner of the Great Hall, looking at the stones of the wall without seeing them. One of them seemed, in some mysterious way, to have lodged itself inside his chest, which made even such a mundane act as breathing supremely painful. All around him, noise and activity reigned, but none of it touched him, which suited him perfectly. His mind was busy playing and replaying the impossibility he had seen. Over and over, Colleen stepped into the open, holding his gift against her breast, and spoke the three words which had cost her life to say.

It makes no sense. None. She would never—

Except that she did.

There is something I don't know.

The thoughts had recurred in exactly this form so many times that Blaise had lost track of them when Selena Moon emerged from the milling crowd, clearly headed in his direction. He nodded curtly to her as she seated herself beside him on the floor.

"We had a chance to examine Colleen," she said after a few seconds of silence. "Someone tried to put her under Imperius. Possibly they succeeded but they worded it wrong, or she might have fought them off for a moment. We can't tell."

The stone in Blaise's chest contracted, then slowly began to dissolve. "She chose," he said, in a voice which sounded startlingly normal. "She chose that way to be sure they could not truly succeed. That they could not use her against us." The image of Colleen holding his bracelet to her heart recurred once again, but now it made more sense than he could have wished. "Against me. One leader destroying another. It would have terrified our defenders, turned what was meant as a planned retreat into a panicked rout. And there would have been no one left to say the words." The stone finished its dissolution with a rush of chill through his limbs. "She died to save us all."

"That's what it looks like." Selena nodded. "I'm sorry, Blaise. If that means anything tonight."

"Not tonight, but someday it will." Blaise shut his eyes and leaned back against the wall. "As long as we win, of course…"


Harry stood at the edge of the clearing where the Death Eaters had set up camp, touching the inner pocket where he carried Wand and Stone, then the silky fabric of the Cloak. His pendants, hanging against his heart, his own wand up his sleeve, and the red-stoned dagger belted at his waist were all just where they should have been as well, and with less than ten minutes remaining of the hour Voldemort had given him, he had to believe his friends and family were in the places he needed them to be.

Right, then. Pressing his hand to his pendants one last time, for courage and luck, he took out the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone, then stepped out of the trees, shedding the Invisibility Cloak as he did so. Curtain up, and may we all break a leg.

Or perhaps our enemies' brains.


A shudder of movement at the edge of the clearing caught Lord Voldemort's eye. Shedding his Invisibility Cloak and dropping it to the ground in front of him, Harry Potter stood revealed, his face strangely calm in the firelight.

Green eyes met red for an instant, but nothing could be seen of the mind beyond them other than a brilliant flare of fire. Then Harry dropped to his knees, tossed two small items from his hand onto the Cloak, and flicked out the fingers of both hands towards the little collection. With a whoosh of flame, they were rendered dust-fine ashes before the Dark Lord had clearly made out their shapes, though one of them had been long and slender and the other small and rounded.

A wand, perhaps, and some sort of magical fuel? But why—

Shaking off such needless thoughts, Lord Voldemort rose, drawing the Elder Wand. "Harry Potter," he said quietly. "The Boy Who Lived."

With no more than a thought, he cast the Killing Curse towards the child who had been his enemy since before he had been born.

The green light struck Harry's robed chest, flaring again as it made contact, and a loud explosion sounded behind him. Without a change in his calm expression, The Boy Who Lived crumpled into the dirt, arms and legs limp and lifeless.

The Death Eaters sat motionless, their eyes flickering from their Master to his fallen enemy, as the tension in the broad clearing mounted. Lord Voldemort found he could not blame them. The feeling of anticlimax was distinct.

Something else should have happened here. He would not, could not, permit himself to look fearfully around, as some of the Death Eaters were doing even now, but the sensations which were prompting them were clear even to him. Something greater, something more, should have marked my defeat of the only enemy who could have defeated me, my dispatching him to the journey from which there is no returning—

From behind the Dark Lord came the hoot of an owl, long and low and mournful. An instant later, the bird itself swept through the clearing on silent wings, white as any ghost. Straight to the tree under which Harry lay it flew, and landed on a branch above his body, its cry like the sound of a sob, as though it grieved for his death.

Within the Death Eaters' ranks, the whispering began.

"Starwing…"

"Malfoy's owl…"

"It's her, the girl…"

"But she's dead!"

"So're they." One of the Death Eaters pointed, trembling. "So're they…"

Slowly, Lord Voldemort turned to look.

At the edge of the clearing stood two tall figures, bleached of all color and shining with an inner light, yet unmistakable in their lineaments. Lucius Malfoy was only now lowering his arm from where he had cast his owl-girl into the air, and Severus Snape still wore the bloodstained robes in which he had died.

"My lord," said Lucius, bowing slightly, as did Severus behind him. "Yours to command, as ever." He glanced past the Dark Lord to the place where Harry lay, Starwing perched above him like a guardian. "I would congratulate you upon your victory, but I fear you did not understand what Potter did just before you cast your curse. Shall I elucidate?"

As in a dream, Lord Voldemort felt himself slowly nod.

"Harry Potter, as Albus Dumbledore before him, sought out three semi-mythical items known to some as the Deathly Hallows. The Elder Wand, of which you already know, but with it the Resurrection Stone and the Cloak of Invisibility." Lucius laughed softly. "The legend would have us believe them gifts from Death itself, but whether or not that is true, there can be no doubt that their magic is powerful indeed. The wizard who masters them all is said to be the master of death."

"But Harry Potter did not have the Elder Wand." Lord Voldemort strove for some measure of control over a situation which was slipping away from him more quickly than he could regain it. "I have it myself. He cannot have mastered what I hold in my hand, what I have just used to kill him!"

"Do you truly think, my lord, that Albus Dumbledore would have been so careless as to allow you to gain control of the world's most powerful wand?" Severus spoke for the first time, his every word a symphony in sarcasm. "He had Ollivander make him up a replica, a fake, a year before his life was ever threatened. And then he left instructions for his faithful followers to conceal the true Elder Wand until such time as Harry Potter needed it, and have him buried with the copy." A smirk touched the pallid lips. "The Younger Wand, if you will."

"Very nice," said Lucius appreciatively, and Severus inclined his head in thanks. "But as I was saying, my lord, in the ancient lore, the master of all three Deathly Hallows is also the master of death itself. And Harry Potter has done more than master the Hallows." He began to walk forward towards the form of Lord Voldemort's enemy, Severus stepping back into the trees and fading like the ghost he surely was. "He has destroyed them. Unmade them, as he might some faulty piece of work." Reaching the spot where Harry had fallen, he stepped carefully clear of the body, moving to its right. "As for what means to death, both his death and others…" One slender hand gestured gracefully towards the trees.

Out of the darkness paced a majestic male lion, his footfalls silent on the leaf-littered Forest floor, his mane and body as glowing a silver as the man who had summoned him forth. On his back sat two ghostly female figures, robed and veiled so that no hint of their identity could be seen, the very image of the flag which flew over Hogwarts castle. Lucius bowed low before them, then stepped to the lion's side to offer his hand to the rider in the front.

Dismounting with his help, the slender woman lifted her veil away from her face to let it rest upon her shoulders, revealing the features of Remus Lupin's wife, Danger. She and Lucius held one another's eyes for a long moment before he bowed once more and stepped back, clearing her path to Harry Potter. She unwrapped her veil still further as she crossed to Harry's side, laying it across her arms like a shroud, then knelt beside him and lifted his lifeless form into her embrace, cradling him against her chest with her head bowed down in grief.

Lucius reached up to the lion's second rider now, helping her to dismount in her turn. Once her feet were on the Forest floor, she too removed her veil, disclosing the face of Hermione Granger-Lupin. Gathering the veil in her hands, she cast it over Lucius's head, hiding his face from view, then whisked it away once more in the style of a Muggle conjurer. The person thus revealed bore some resemblance to Lucius still, but a great deal more to the girl in front of him, with whom he joined hands, smiling, and stepped back.

The great lion, freed from his burdens, came solemnly forward, crossing behind the grieving mother and her son, until he stood across from the woman. Slowly, he lowered his head, his shining mane shifting not at all, and breathed upon the still, silent face.

For the length of one breath, nothing happened.

Then Harry Potter stirred, and opened his eyes, and smiled at the man who now knelt beside him. Reaching out a hand, he touched Remus Lupin on the cheek, and where his fingers touched, the ghostly silver faded away, replaced by the color of living flesh. Lupin returned the smile as the transformation spread swiftly across his entire body, then gestured to his wife, and Harry sat up and laid his hand on Danger's lips, her deathly pallor retreating from his touch until two unmistakably living people knelt beside him, their eyes alight with happiness.

Rising to his feet, Harry approached his twin siblings, who stood a few paces distant, hand-linked. His lips parted as though he were laughing as he offered them his own hands, and they accepted, the colors of life rushing back across the pair who had been dead as the three siblings spun in a circle like Muggle children, around and around and—

In a blur of speed, the twins sprang apart, leaving Harry facing Lord Voldemort, his wand magically in his hand and pointed towards the Dark Lord. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted, and a jet of red light tore the wand from Voldemort's hand.

Behind Harry, Remus Lupin conjured up a ball of golden flame and flung it to his right, streamers of fire following it as it flew. Aletha Black, with her husband Sirius beside her, bounded clear of the trees in time to catch the ball and throw it once again, this time to Neville Longbottom, who had emerged from the Forest at Voldemort's rear, little Meghan Black at his elbow. He held the flame for an instant in his hands, then passed it into the keeping of Luna Lovegood, who laughed once as she caught it and tossed it back to Remus, past the boy who had been masquerading as Lucius Malfoy.

Remus caught the ball and blew once on it, and the threads of fire which had followed it around the circle rose up, encasing Harry and the Dark Lord, at the circle's center, in a shield of shimmering fire. Harry whistled once, shrilly, and flung the two wands in his hand through the top of the shield an instant before it closed, to be caught by Ron Weasley, on the circle's other side. "This is our fight," he snapped out. "No one move—"

"Master!" shrieked Bellatrix, flinging herself forward and ripping her wand free of her pocket.

Neville turned to face her and flung out one hand in a throwing motion, clapping the other against his chest as a rich golden light ignited there.

Bellatrix had time for one choked scream before the wood of her wand, sprouting in her hand, closed over her face and body, wrapping her in the embrace of a twisted and dwarfed black walnut tree, its roots digging deep into the earth as leaves burst from its branches to shiver in the cool autumn air.

"Now," said Neville, dusting off his hands and exchanging satisfied smiles with Meghan. "No one else move."

"Showoff," muttered Harry, drawing snickers from his Pack and Pride. "As I was saying…" With his right hand, he drew a gleaming silver dagger, and displayed it to Lord Voldemort before throwing it into the ground between them to stick there upright, the red stone in its hilt gleaming in the light of the shielding fire around them. "I challenge you to a fair fight." His eyes flared with contempt. "For once in your stinking life. No fancy spells, no special wands, no weapons of any kind. Just you, and me, and whatever we've got of our own."

"You call this fair, Harry Potter?" Lord Voldemort was astounded that he could frame the words without snarling in rage at the way he had been fooled. "Using ambush tactics and trickery to force me onto your own chosen battlefield?"

"It's a better chance than you gave my parents." Harry's lip curled. "Any of them. You going to talk all night, or are we going to finish this?"

"Oh, we will finish this." Lord Voldemort reached deep into his core, seeking out the center of his magic. The boy might think he was crippled without his wand, but certain things were still possible, especially in the grip of rage such as now suffused his being. "We will finish this here and now."

And with your family and friends gathered around to watch you die, my triumph will be all the sweeter…


Harry circled to his left, mirroring Voldemort's movements, his eyes and ears and nose alert for the slightest hint that his enemy was prepared to attack. Facing the Killing Curse without flinching, even with his Slytherin jewel to render him intangible for the crucial second the deadly magic would otherwise have made contact, had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

Closely followed by lying completely still and breathing as slowly as I could manage while Fox and Snape and the rest did their little distraction dance. But it went just the way we wanted it to go. He's disarmed and off his balance, Bellatrix is out of the way, and the rest of the Death Eaters are so confused and petrified I don't think they'd move even if he ordered them to—

Voldemort's scent spiked, and Harry dropped to all fours, launching himself across the circle as Wolf. The bolt of white-hot magic cast from Voldemort's open hand passed harmlessly over his head, and his teeth slammed shut on that same hand, sinking deep into Voldemort's pasty flesh and drawing blood of a surprisingly deep red. The Dark Lord howled in pain, the sound modulating into a Parseltongue oath which would have had dire consequences for Harry's future with Ginny if it had struck home, and Wolf rolled clear of his prey and came up on the opposite side of the circle, panting open-mouthed.

Blah. Regaining his human form, Harry spat scarlet. Nasty stuff. Just as foul as he is. Across the circle, Letha cupped her hands and blew into them, and the tingling numbness in Harry's mouth eased. Poisonous too. No real surprise there. He used to drink snake venom, back before he was able to restore his body…

"First blood to me," he said, straightening. "Not in as good of shape as you thought you were, are you, my lord? Not as young as you used to be, not as strong, not as powerful. You can't cheat time forever. Sooner or later, it catches up with you."

"You know nothing, Harry Potter." Voldemort stared hard at his hand, and the bleeding cuts slowly scabbed over, giving it something of the same appearance his entire body had displayed in the form Harry had just been thinking about. "You have learned only the very beginnings of magic, the most basic and fundamental forms. I have delved deeper, striven harder, risked more than any wizard who has ever lived. And for that reason, I will never die."

"Talking about your Horcruxes?" Harry grinned at the look of shock suffusing Voldemort's face. "That's right, we know about them. Dumbledore found you out, and pinpointed enough of them for us that we could do the rest. We've been sweeping them up and taking them down for months." He shook his head, an unexpected twinge of pity for his enemy working through the rush of his battle fever. "How much soul have you got left by now? Is it enough to feel, to really feel anything? Or are hate and anger and bitterness the only things you have? Maybe if you tried, tried hard, for some remorse over everything you've done…"

"Why?" Voldemort lifted his chin, staring down where his nose wasn't at Harry. "Why should I want to feel such a pointless emotion? The past is the past, Harry Potter. Set in stone, cast in iron, unalterable by anything we may say or do. Remorse changes nothing."

"It changes you." Harry shrugged. "And if you managed it, you might be able to heal your soul a little ways. Enough to leave a ghost behind, if nothing else." A smile tugged at his lips. "Just like your famous ancestor. You could haunt the castle with him. Be the other resident ghost of Slytherin House." He frowned thoughtfully. "Would he call you 'Junior', maybe? Or is that too Muggle for you?"

"What right do you have to mock at Salazar Slytherin?" Voldemort flung another bolt of magic at Harry, who dodged aside. "You, who descend not from any line of the Founders but from Godric Gryffindor's Champion! A Muggleborn fool graced with more luck than skill, who had the effrontery to murder the greatest wizard who has ever lived!"

Throwing his hands wide, Harry summoned fire, casting a smaller circle around Voldemort within the greater shield the Pack and Pride were maintaining. "You so sure I'm not Gryffindor's Heir?" he asked, staring Voldemort down through the shielding wall of flame. "I'm pretty good at this for someone who wasn't born to it. But hey, whatever floats your broom." He lowered his hands, letting the fire die down, and extracted his pendants from his robes, snapping off the blood-bond locket he and Moony had made a bit over two years before. "I'll even help you out."

With a flick of his thumb, he flipped the locket into the air. Moony pointed a finger at it, and it flared up once and vanished. "There." Harry dusted off his own hands, hearing Ginny snicker behind him. "By your lights, that's the only link I've got to Gryffindor's blood. Up in smoke, just like the Deathly Hallows. And you know what? You might be right about that, or you might be wrong. And I don't care." He spread his hands wide. "Sure, it's fun to toss around fireballs, but that's the least of what I'd give up to make sure you're stopped. That you never get the chance to hurt anyone I love, ever again."

An unexpected snicker broke from him at the dumbfounded expression on Voldemort's face. "Not that you look much like you could, at the moment. Standing there staring at me with your mouth hanging open like that. Are you sure you didn't get the instructions for those Horcruxes wrong, and split your mind into pieces instead of your soul? Or maybe it's just old age creeping up on you. You're nearly seventy, you know. Seventy versus seventeen, and fighting with our bare hands." He turned his back deliberately on Voldemort, facing Ginny, who stood on the other side of the shield with Fox and Luna. "Not very fair to him, is it?" he asked her. "But then, he's never been interested in fair before."

"Nor is he now," Ginny murmured, and Harry nodded in understanding, mentally renewing a magical command he'd given before the fight started, then counting backwards in his head. In five, four, three, two—

His dagger shot through his midsection, tracing a chilly path where its intangible metal brushed his flesh, and buried itself hilt-deep in the fiery magical shield before him.

"What a surprise." Harry tugged his dagger free and turned to face Voldemort once again. "You're still trying to cheat, even now."

"I never agreed that this duel was to be weaponless." Voldemort braced his hands on his thighs, breathing deeply. "You stated it for yourself, but never asked for my consent. So now…" He held out his right hand, and a swirl of darkness above it formed itself into a matte black shortsword, its blade seeming to drink the light around it. "Let us finish this, Harry Potter. Once and for all."

Filio leonis, Harry thought clearly, and turned his wrist to accommodate the greater weight of Godric Gryffindor's sword of goblin-wrought silver as it materialized in place of his dagger. "Yes," he said, bringing his weapon up to guard position, as Moony had drilled into him time and time again. "Let's."

Blade rang on blade as Voldemort opened the attack. Harry blocked and danced aside, letting the sword become an extension of his arm, keeping his eyes focused solely on his opponent's weapon and body, waiting, watching, searching. Voldemort's blood was up now, his hunger for the kill matched only by his fury at being tricked again and again by an adversary he clearly considered unworthy. The combination was dangerous, but more so for the person feeling it than for his opponent, Harry knew.

All I need is one clear shot. He parried two wild swings and thrust forward, forcing Voldemort back a step. Just one—just one—

Voldemort brought his sword down in a great sweep aimed at Harry's side. Harry spun out of the way, and used his momentum to slice his own blade through the fine black robes into Voldemort's left shoulder.

The scent of blood washed over him once again, and Harry had to fight not to shout with exaltation.

"What is this?" Voldemort lowered his sword, suspicion in his eyes. "You think—" Dabbling his fingers into his own blood, he raised them to his slit-like nostrils and sniffed. "Venom," he said with certainty. "Basilisk venom." Under his breath, he began to laugh. "You think you can kill me with basilisk venom, Harry Potter? I feed on the venom of serpents. The very king of serpents from whom you took this venom was hatched to serve my ancestor, and later awakened from his long sleep to serve me! Do you truly think the venom of the basilisk will harm me? Me, the Heir of Salazar Slytherin?"

"No." Harry grounded his blade. "Though I should point out, strictly speaking, Slytherin's basilisk's the queen of serpents, not the king. But that's not important right now." He smiled. "Look at your hand again, my lord. Look at your blood."

Eyeing Harry suspiciously, Voldemort did so. Then his eyes widened in shock. The black sword fell from his hand, dissolving back into darkness as it dropped.

The smears of blood on the parchment-pale fingertips had shrunk and solidified into shards of fine black ash.

"Funny thing about being blood-son to a werewolf, and having a wolf Animagus form." Harry leaned on the hilt of Gryffindor's sword as Voldemort ripped open the torn shoulder of his robes, revealing long streaks of blackness running down his arm and chest. "If you bite someone while you're transformed, you can infect them with lycanthropy. Lucius Malfoy could have told you that." He smiled. "But then, he's dead." Lifting the sword and twisting his wrist again, he sheathed his dagger at his side. "Just like you will be, in a couple more seconds here."

"No," Voldemort breathed as his arm fell away from his body, smashing to pieces as it struck the ground. "No!"

Turning towards the dumbfounded Death Eaters, he made a twisting gesture with his still-untouched right hand, then pulled viciously. Harry felt a wrenching surge of magic, and the Death Eaters collapsed as one, some of them shrieking and clawing at their faces, others clutching their throats, still others reaching beseechingly towards their Master.

"This is not over, Potter!" Voldemort shouted, the line of black ash sweeping down through his body and upward towards his head with equal speed. "You have not yet—"

His throat, then his face, were overtaken by the change, and the body of the Dark Lord Voldemort crumbled where he stood, his fine robes falling softly atop the ashen pile.

"He's right," said Letha quietly, as Moony snapped his fingers to dismiss the fiery shield. "This isn't over. It can't be. There's too much magic here still. Something's not right…"

"We missed one." Hermione pressed a hand to her chest, trying to slow her breathing. "I don't know how, or what, but we must have missed a Horcrux. He's not dead. And now he's not tied down to a body, so he could be anywhere—"

"To the castle!"

The voice was distant, yet perfectly audible, filling the clearing with its impossibly familiar tones. "He will follow where you lead," the speaker went on. "He is bound to you, and either you or he must fall tonight. Hurry, to the castle, and call on all the help you can muster along the way!"

Without wasting another moment, Harry turned and bolted towards Hogwarts, hearing Pack and Pride fall into place beside and behind him. He would have made better time as Wolf, he knew, but not everyone's forms were equally well-suited for running, and he had no desire to let anyone be picked off now.

We stand or we fall together. And I don't intend to fall.

We're going to win this war tonight.

No matter what it takes.

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Author Notes:

Whew. Let me get my breath back here. Writing scenes of high emotion is somewhat akin to swimming long distances underwater…

There. So the blood of wolves has indeed changed the game, and the queens have ridden the lion. (Prophecy in Chapter 28 if you're wondering.) And a whole lot of things which have been hinted at throughout the story have finally come to fruition. So many references I can't even count them all myself…can you?

Apologies for the extra week's wait on this chapter. Life got somewhat difficult on me, what with work and dogs and the house and some emotional swings. I hope it was worth it for you!

Coming very soon (since I am a week behind my self-imposed schedule): Chapter 64, "If You Ever Loved Us", in which Harry summons help, as he's already been instructed to do. Who instructed him? What kind of help is he calling on? And what form will the true Final Battle take? Stay tuned to find out! And if you want more information sooner, try my Facebook page (facebook.com/annebwalsh.page) or my blog, Anne's Randomness, housed on my website, annebwalsh.com!

In closing, let me reiterate something I have already said, though perhaps not just in this way. I am writing this story to please myself, as a fun release from a reality which I find often frustrating and occasionally infuriating. As a result, I may occasionally bend the laws of chance in ways they do not ordinarily go, such as allowing a number of my main characters to live instead of die. If you don't like this particular treatment of the subject matter, that is your privilege. I don't tell other people what to think, and if I am going to disagree with their opinions, I try to do so politely, without calling names or casting aspersions. It would be a great pleasure to me if you, O readers, would grant me that same favor. Thank you.