Content Harry Potter Miscellaneous
  • Previous
  • Next

Author Notes:

Bring lots of tissues, and be prepared for anything. That is all.

Harry's head pounded in time with his flying feet, wild fury and cold determination battling for dominance. He knew, distantly, that these emotions belonged to Voldemort, not to him, that he should be feeling exaltation at the success of the plan the Pack and Pride had carried out, even with its last-minute check.

But the blood-bond between me and Moony is gone, which opens me back up to Voldemort. And with Voldemort's body being gone now too, he's only got one place to vent his emotions, and that's me. Shoving aside a disturbing notion about why this might be so, he fought for control, for focus. I need some way to lock him out of my head. Keep him away from my thoughts, so he can't tell what we're going to do next—

"Blue jewels!" he called out, angling his head first one way, then the other, to let his voice stream back to the V-like wings of Marauders and Warriors who ran with him through the Forbidden Forest on this night of All Hallows' Eve. "Blue jewels! Anybody who's got one left, use it now! Tie us in together, lock everything else out!"

From the people keeping pace behind and beside him, azure light erupted, first on his right, then on his left, then on his right again. With every burst of sapphire, Harry's headache receded, the mad tangle of emotions sliding away, until he could feel Wolf shake out his ears in relief at getting the inside of his head to himself again.

Thanks, he said silently through the link now established among Pack and Pride.

You're welcome, came Letha's calm answer, overlapping Danger's cheerful Not at all and Hermione's chiding Well, what else would I use it for?

Despite everything, Harry found a laugh on his lips, as the comforting, familiar senses of his family's and friends' magic rose to meet his own. Silently, he tossed the disturbing notion which had occurred to him earlier towards Wolf, who caught it in his jaws and trotted off to his den with it, to guard it and keep it from being seen. If it was true, he'd face what it meant when the time came to do so, but until that time came—

No point in getting everybody all worked up for nothing.

Especially when we've still got a war to finish.

And for that, like the man said, we're going to need some help.

Okay, red jewels next, he said through the link, feeling everyone's minds turn towards their pendants once again. I think most of us should have one of those left—

We all should have one, Neville interjected. Unless somebody used theirs up and didn't say anything to me. The flash of orange-spice magic he sent could have meant nobody but Ron, who responded with a wordless suggestion about what Neville might do to himself after the fighting was over, sending the female half of the Pride into giggles.

Gentlemen, that'll do, said Letha coolly. What about them, Harry? Second them to you?

Yes. Harry reached out an insubstantial hand, and felt against its fingers the smooth facets of tiny gemstones, as his parents, siblings, and friends passed along to him the storehouses of magic those jewels represented. When Meghan had mentally dropped into his palm the eleventh such blood-red gem, Harry added his own to make twelve, then closed his magical fingers around them.

The Gryffindor gift is fire. Fire makes light. And I'm going to need as much light as I can get.

It's the only way to see things properly through a veil.

Whoever you are, wherever you are, if you can hear me now, he called silently, willing the jewels into life. If your symbol's on our pendants, if you helped to shape our lives, come and help us in our fight, please, if you ever loved us!

Against his chest, then against Ginny's and Moony's on either side of him, then against Ron's and Danger's on their other sides, and spreading outwards through the Pack and Pride, soft red glows began to shine, growing brighter and fiercer with every second, until the Forest was illuminated for several paces around the twelve who ran, revealing the trees past which their pace was carrying them. For the second time that night, Harry felt the thrill of mystery lift the hairs down his arms and along the back of his neck.

Anything could happen tonight.

And even when I'm the one who caused the anything, it's still just the least bit terrifying!

Movement at the edge of their lighted area caught his eye. Beside him, Moony's breath caught in his throat, as though he couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry, an impression borne out by the rush of emotions through the mental link.

Harry couldn't blame his Pack-father for the reaction. The man and woman now keeping pace with them, rendered in washed-out color not unlike the revenants the Pride had seen in Luna's memory-recreation, had faces which each bore a distinct resemblance to Moony's, faces Harry had seen until this moment only in photographs, some Muggle, others magical.

I called them. They came. Pressing his hand against his pendants, Harry let his triumphant grin break forth. And they're only the first—there will be more…


"Remus." Katherine Lupin reached out a hand towards her son, then drew it back, smiling. "We're so proud of what you've done with your life. So glad to see you happy." She turned her smile on Danger. "I wish we could have met in the flesh. I know what it's like to be dropped so suddenly into the magical world. But you've done a magnificent job, both with all of them and with him, specifically." She winked in Remus's direction. "Go on as you have been and you'll be fine, even with the changes ahead."

"Thank you," Danger answered, startled when the words she'd formed in her mind emerged as clear as if she'd spoken them aloud, though all her breath was going towards maintaining the pace Harry had set towards Hogwarts. Katherine smiled and gestured for Danger to go on, and with a little laugh, Danger did so. "Remus always said we would have loved each other. I didn't doubt him, but it's good to have it confirmed."

"Son. Remus." John Lupin, at his wife's shoulder, shifted uneasily. "I should have told you. You deserved to know. But the time was never right…"

"I understand, Dad." Remus reached down without looking to take Danger's hand as they ran. "What happened, happened, and there's no point holding grudges now." He smiled, lifting their clasped hands a little higher in time with their strides. "Not when the path I walked brought us here. Together."

"Thank you." John bowed his head briefly, then looked up and smiled as a woman materialized at the edge of the lit area on the other side. Her features were beautiful, almost statuesque, and Remus heard Aletha's muffled gasp more with his mind than his ears.

"Oh, love." Teresa Freeman pressed her hands together, as though only thus could she stop herself from reaching for her daughter. "You're so strong, you've done so much—your work, your family, your power—I couldn't be more proud, and I'm only sorry it took you so long to realize who you were, but I never knew myself—"

"Mother, please." Aletha's breathy laugh was more than halfway to tears. "No apologies tonight. I am who I am because of you, and I wouldn't change it for the world."

Blinking away tears, Teresa blew a kiss, and moved aside to make room for a slender wizard in neatly tailored robes, who smirked at Sirius almost before his face had finished forming. "Rebellion's contagious, big brother," said Regulus Black. "It's at least halfway your fault I ended up like I did, and you know what? I don't regret a bit of it." A flicker of sadness passed across his face. "Well, except not getting to know my son. Watch out for him, would you? And Suzanna?"

"Have been, will be," promised Sirius. "Though Kreacher's doing a pretty bang-up job of it on his own."

"Stroke of genius, that, by the by. Well done you." Regulus snickered. "Let him know I loved what he did to the Death Eaters who tried breaking in at their place?"

Sirius tossed his brother a salute, which Regulus returned before dropping back to keep pace with Teresa.

It's exactly what Harry called for, Danger murmured privately to Remus. Everyone who ever loved us— She broke off with a little gasp of her own, as two more figures in Muggle clothing shimmered into existence beside her.

"And don't we count?" David Granger asked, chuckling through his words. "Or didn't you think we'd come?"

"To see you stand up and go on, despite everything, my Danger." Rose Granger pressed a hand against her heart, her eyes gleaming bright as she smiled at her older daughter. "To see you fight so hard, not just for your own sister, but for a little boy you barely even knew when you began. And then to see you still be able to trust your dreams and take that leap of faith. Into love, into marriage, into magic, and everything it meant for you. I can't explain how much pride and joy you've brought to both of us."

"And as for you, little Miss Oh-my-knee." David drifted back until he was parallel with Hermione, who was gazing at her birth parents with awestruck eyes. "We've missed being there for your growing up, Neenie-queen, but more than anything we wanted to see you happy. I think you have been."

"I have been. And…" Hermione glanced to one side at Ron, whose long, loping strides matched her own shorter, quicker ones with ease. "I will be."

"Yes, you will be." Rose nodded with certainty as David returned to her side. "We know."


Did you know this was going to happen? Ginny asked Harry in the silence of their two minds, the background humming with the aftershock of her amazement. When you called for help, did you know what kind you were going to get?

I suspected. Harry slipped a brief feeling of laughter into the link. Fox may not have been telling the truth about what it did when I destroyed the Deathly Hallows, but it has to have had some effect—and speaking of Fox, he added as the next apparition materialized beside the Warrior he'd named. Look who's here.

"So much more," murmured Narcissa Black, her hair streaming behind her as she kept pace effortlessly with her son. "So much more than I ever had hoped or dreamed that you would be."

"I never could have hoped or dreamed it either. Not without you." Fox lifted his shoulders a little. "I'm sorry I didn't keep the name you gave me."

"You kept more important things than that." Narcissa shook her head, smiling. "Your integrity. Your life. Your love and happiness and freedom. And the new blood you've taken, to wake an old and honorable line to new life. Even our home will be yours again." Her eyes turned momentarily wistful. "Think of me sometimes, while you live there in joy."

"Every day." Fox held out his right hand, and Narcissa closed her insubstantial fingers around it, as though they swore a Vow to one another. "We all will."

"Thank you, my love." Narcissa slid back, reaching out into the darkness beyond the warm red light, and led forward another witch, at the sight of whom Luna breathed a word in Parseltongue.

"Really, now." Anita Lovegood planted her hands on her hips, but she was smiling. "Is that any way to talk to your mother?"

"She did say 'Mummy'," said Fox, squeezing his lady's hand. "Would you have wanted her to say 'Daddy'?"

"I think she wanted me to speak English." Luna made a face at her husband, then turned her eyes back to her mother. "I've missed you," she said simply. "But thank you for my life. And for this." She traced a finger along the scar on her forearm. "It's helped us all a great deal over the years."

"I've loved watching you grow into it, and learn to master it, instead of it mastering you." Anita blew a kiss to her daughter. "Tell your father to stop being foolish. I love him, and that means I want him to be happy. You understand."

"Yes, I do." Luna giggled. "I'll remember."


It's amazing, Meghan whispered privately to Neville as they ran. Everyone is so much like themselves!

"Should we be like someone else?" asked Andromeda Tonks, her shape unfurling out of the sparkling air beside them. "Death is only a doorway. It changes where you are, not who." She sighed. "Not that I wouldn't have loved a chance to stay in this world a while longer, and meet my grandchildren in person. But if there's anyone I can trust to do the spoiling for me, Molly Weasley would be the one." She looked down at Meghan, her lips curving up. "And you, young lady, are going to make a tremendous Healer. Powers or no powers."

Meghan sucked in her breath, feeling Neville's hand tighten on hers. "You think so?"

"No." Andromeda laughed. "I know so."

I told you, Neville murmured as Pack and Pride burst out of the trees, the lawns of Hogwarts opening all around them. Didn't I tell you?

It's a good thing I like you so much, Meghan grumbled, but did not let go of Neville's hand.

The flutter of robes made everyone look up. At the topmost edge of the region illuminated by the jewels flew Cedric Diggory, waving down at them. "You're getting close now!" he called. "Tell Roger and Selena thanks for me!"

"We will!" Hermione called back.

To their left, a hugely tall patch of light solidified into the form of a gigantic man with a full and bushy beard, pumping his fist in the air. "Yeh're goin' ter win, Harry!" he bellowed as that young man passed him. "I know it! I can feel it! Yeh're goin' ter win!"

"Thanks, Hagrid!" Harry shouted back. "Sorry about your house!"

"What'd I tell yeh 'bout keepin' those twin brothers o' yers under control, eh?" Hagrid mock-growled at Ginny, who only laughed as she sped by, waving. "S'pose that's my job now…"

Neville's grip tightened again, and Meghan turned to see where he was looking. Keeping stride with them now was Frank Longbottom, nodding in approval. "Do us proud, Neville," he said, moving one pace forward to make room for pretty, dark-haired Penelope Clearwater and a little girl in Muggle clothing who was holding her hand. "Always remember to follow through, but don't kick your enemies when they're down." He frowned a little. "Though if I remember right, your mother considers 'down' a more flexible concept than I do…"

Meghan nearly strangled on her laughter. Neville didn't bother with concealment.

"Is that where the other Annette will go to school, when she gets old enough?" the little girl was asking Penelope in tones of astonishment. "It's ginormous!"

Because death is only a doorway. Meghan knew her eyes were welling up, and didn't care. She could have run from the Forest to Hogwarts in her sleep. A few little tears weren't going to get in her way. And that means the person I want most to see should be just like himself too…


"Do me a favor, ickle Ronniekins," said a voice in Ron's ear, which unfolded with startling swiftness into George, his freckled features burning cold on the autumn evening air. "Tell Percy to get his head on straight. I want him to be happy." He grinned. "And somebody else, too. I can't exactly fault his taste."

"Tell him yourself," retorted Ron, nodding towards Hogwarts. "He's in there."

"You know, I just might." George peered ahead through the darkness. "Have to wait for my backup to arrive, though."

"Backup?" Hermione asked. "Does that mean—" She broke off, glaring at Ron. You didn't tell me? she demanded privately.

When have I had time? Ron returned the same way. We've been a little busy trying to knock off the evil maniac and his gang of stupid minions. Besides. He glanced over his shoulder at the crater marking the spot where Hagrid's Place had stood. If that's what I think it is, he went out the way he'd have wanted to.

"Freddie got big boom," said George in a childish sing-song, sparking snickers up and down the Pack and Pride. "Big boom! Beat my record, too," he added, reverting to his usual voice. "Well. Mine and Crystal's. She got a bunch of them that night. Honestly, the way she's been going, I think she and Percy are better suited than she and I ever would have been."

"Don't you like violent women?" inquired Ginny sweetly.

"Violent's one thing. Crazy's entirely different."

"How ungallant of you, sir," said Amanda Smythe as she joined the growing crowd which surrounded Pack and Pride. "Considering the lady's madness, what there is of it, came about through love of you."

"Maybe I'll just shut up now." George mimed zipping his lips, drawing more laughter as Amanda smiled smugly at him.

Ron heard Hermione's happy exhalation at Meghan's squeal, and squeezed her fingers in understanding. Graham Pritchard had just stepped out of thin air beside her, and had his hand lifted as though to touch her face.

"It's going to be all right, Meghan," he said to her. "Truly, it is. Natalie's still not sure about that—can you tell her? Or maybe I can." He glanced at the castle as it drew ever nearer. "I'm not sure what the rules are about this sort of thing."

"We're breaking all of them tonight." Meghan's voice hitched slightly, but her sense within the jewel link resonated with joy. "Tell her what she needs to hear."

"I hope I can." Graham sighed once. "Will you help me?"

"All you have to do is say to her what you said to me, and mean it." Meghan smiled at him. "I think you can do that."

Slowly, Graham nodded, and fell back into his place in line.


Harry took the castle steps two at a time, hearing the living people behind him do the same, as their escorting army flowed about them to either side, following them through the doors. Beyond, in the entrance hall and the Great Hall past that, he could see a milling crowd of students and teachers, Order and DA, Ministry and Red Shepherds, some warm and solid, others pale and faint and cold. Colleen Lamb stood beside Blaise Zabini, her face twisted in frustration as she watched him fight his grief, and Fred Weasley's face lit up as he spotted his twin in Harry's train.

But somebody's about to show up who we'll all like a whole lot less…

"Everyone move back!" he shouted, projecting his voice as Letha and Padfoot had taught him, bringing the faces of living and dead alike around towards him. "Clear the middle! We need it!"

Robed figures scrambled aside, leaving a space into which Harry waved the Pack and Pride. "Moony, Danger," he said, indicating the other side of him from Ginny. "Padfoot and Letha, then Neenie and Ron. Neville, Pearl, Fox, Luna. There." He exhaled briefly as Luna took her place next to Ginny. All right, what next?

"Hands," whispered a voice in his ear, soft and feminine, a warm shield against the burning cold which was starting to wear away even the shielding power of the three blue pendant-gems that linked Pack and Pride together. "Take hands, and say the Oath."

"Thrice, to defy him," added the voice's masculine counterpart, with a brief chuckle. "Or rather drive him bloody mad."

Harry reached for Moony's hand, only to find it already closing around his. All around the circle, Marauders and Warriors joined hands, and Harry began the recitation, eleven other voices joining his in careful unison.

"My hand in yours,
"My wand with yours,
"My life for yours,
"Now and always."

"Look!" "Look at that!" "What is it?" "I don't know…" The whispers ran around the Great Hall, as a spot in the center of the Pack and Pride's circle began to shine with a dull and leaden glow.

You will in a minute. Harry tightened his grasp on Ginny and began the second repetition.

"My hand in yours,
"My wand with yours,
"My life for yours,
"Now and always."

"It's getting brighter!" "It looks like a person!" "Merlin's beard, is it—" "Do you think—"

"Once more, with feeling," whispered Harry's unseen prompter (female edition), and Harry smothered a totally inappropriate snigger before leading the third and final declaration.

"My hand in yours,
"My wand with yours,
"My life for yours,
"Now and always!"

"Don't panic," said the male voice, low and urgent, Moony frowning a little as though he could hear it too. "This is going to feel weird."

With no more warning than that, a bolt of lightning shot around the circle of Pack and Pride. Harry yelped as he felt his body collapse to the floor, leaving his 'walking' self standing where he had been, hand-linked with what he thought for a single nervewracking second were the ghosts of Ginny and Moony—

No, it's just their souls, not their ghosts. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the silver cords connecting his wife and Pack-father to their bodies, exactly similar to his own, and to the ones obtaining all the way around the circle. We're alive, we're just…temporarily disembodied.

All around him, he could hear people explaining that to one another, but he had no time to listen to them. The sullen glow in the center of the circle flared once, twice, three times, and exploded soundlessly into the form Harry'd been expecting.

Which is more than I can say for some people.

"How intriguing." The figure of Lord Voldemort, looking exactly as he had in the moments before the swordfight in the Forest, examined his faintly glowing body, then looked around the circle which hemmed him in, bound together by the same cords of light Harry remembered seeing every time the Pride performed some feat of magic which could only be accomplished together. "All my enemies, together in one place. Standing against me. But can you keep me here?"

"Yes," said the female voice, and Lily Potter stepped around the curve of the circle into Harry's view, Voldemort focusing on her with what Harry thought might be a tinge of fear in his red, slitted eyes. "They can. 'If twelve stand strong in the circle of light, the darkness cannot prevail'."

"Which means," James Potter put in, strolling around the circle's other side, "that as long as all of them are standing here, you can't win."

"But if one of them breaks their oaths, if they falter or somehow fail in their duty, then I am free to do as I will." Voldemort laughed once. "And I see now where my connection to earth remains! Do you see it, Harry Potter?"

Harry looked where Voldemort was indicating, and swallowed hard against a feeling of illness, Ginny's hand tightening around his in sympathy or fear. His earlier notion, disturbing as it was, had been correct.

The pale, pulsing green cord that was Voldemort's only connection to life emerged from the lightning-bolt scar in the center of his body's forehead where it lay beside his feet.

"So, Harry Potter, what will you do now?" Voldemort laughed again, long and low. "Take your own life, and hope that your own determination to leave this world will drag me with you before I can break through your shattered circle and claim a new body for my own? I promise you, I have the strongest of motivations for continuing to live. And as the cord which binds us is of my making, it must also be of my breaking. Trying to sever it will do you no good. So you must attempt to outlast me, to hold me here until I grow weary. But you have bodies, bodies which will suffer hunger and thirst and exhaustion. I have none. And you are many, prone to contention, where I am one, filled with the power that is rightfully mine."

"Power you stole from the people who trusted you," Harry shot back. "But I know what you'd say to that. No right, no wrong, just strong and weak. Except that everybody's weak sometimes, even you." He caught a glimpse among the army of revenants of a half-familiar mop of mouse-brown hair. "You needed Wormtail, once. Peter Pettigrew. He had to carry you around places, because you weren't strong enough to stand on your own two feet."

"He was not strong enough to resist me, so he served me instead," Voldemort countered. "That was as it should be."

"He wasn't strong enough then." Harry smiled, the crowd having parted for just long enough that he could identify the woman standing by Peter's side. She winked once at him before the other revenants closed their line of sight again. "But he found new strength, in a place you can't even begin to imagine."

"Yes. New strength." Voldemort began to prowl the inner limits of the circle, peering into each of the Marauders' or Warriors' faces as he passed them. "From where can any of you draw new strength now? And even if you do, how will it benefit you? You are trapped here in your circle, unable to leave it for so much as a second, for fear I will overwhelm you when you are no longer twelve." He shook his head, mock-sadly. "You poor, deluded fools. To try to use the magic of numbers, the power of patterns, against me."

"Careful who you're calling a fool," said Letha lightly. "You seem to be missing a very obvious point about those very same numbers and patterns. But then, he would," she added in Padfoot's direction, flicking the swiftest of glances towards James, who was rocking on the balls of his feet, a movement Harry had seen most recently from Tonks.

Tonks, and my dad—something to do with numbers, and patterns, and how we can get another person in this circle—

Harry's stomach tried to bound for joy and sink into his feet simultaneously as the answer came to him.

Because as soon as we get that other person in here, I have to get out of it.

All the way out. Forever.

Still, I said I'd do this, no matter what it took. I can't back away from that now.

"What's wrong?" Ginny whispered, her lips barely moving. "What is it?"

"It's…" Harry swallowed. "You know I love you, right?"

"Nothing good ever starts like that."

"You're right. It's not good." Harry glanced back at Voldemort, still stalking along the opposite side of the circle. "He's right, Gin. The only way to kill him is for me to die too. Don't worry about keeping him confined, I know how that's going to work," he added hastily as Ginny began to open her mouth. "But after that's happened, after we can keep holding him without me, I have to…" He gestured towards the ghostly dagger belted to his side, then to the cord which joined him with his body.

"You have to?" Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Pardon me, but I believe that's I have to. As in, me. Ginny Potter. Or didn't you just recently make a bargain where you agreed to put your fate in my hands?"

"Well, yes, but…" Harry frowned. "Ginny, what are you going to do?"

"Do you trust me?" countered Ginny.

"Of course I do, but—" Harry broke off as the other eyebrow joined its mate. "Yes, dear."

"You just get used to saying that, because I intend for you to be around a great many years to say it." Ginny pressed his hand tightly. "Trust me, Harry. Partners, remember?"

"Partners." Harry returned the pressure, and looked up in time to meet Voldemort's eyes blandly as the Dark Lord peered into his face. "Something for you?" he inquired.

"I could have made you great, Harry." Voldemort shook his head sadly. "As great as you were born to be. Your name would have been spoken, in whispers, forever. Of course, it could still happen, if you give up this pathetic charade and accept your true destiny. We will become one, you and I, and death will never touch us…"

"Not interested," said Harry flatly, allowing a trifle of Wolf's snarl to show in his eyes. "Go away."

"Such a shame." Voldemort turned his head to regard Ginny. "And you, lovely Ginevra? What will your life be, tied to a husband who would rather risk his life in the service of the foolish masses than bring himself safely home to you? His luck will not last forever, you know. Sooner or later, he will be killed." His thin lips curved. "Perhaps even tonight. But if you come to me—"

"You'll kill me, take over his body, and destroy everything I care about, piece by piece." Ginny's own lips curled back in a hiss. "Do I look stupid?"

Behind her, Fred opened his mouth, which George prudently clapped a hand over.

"Your sister is obstinate." Voldemort crossed the circle laterally to stare down Ron, eye to eye. "Perhaps you will see sense more easily. Do you think these others respect you? Give you the credit you deserve? Or do they regard you as their chosen fool, their bumbler, their backwards comic relief? Do you come first in their affections, or do you come a distant last?"

"Don't know." Ron shrugged once. "But I do know I'd a hell of a lot rather be last with them than first with you."

"And this is what you choose, to spend your life with?" Voldemort demanded of Hermione now, whirling to face her. "With your intelligence, your beauty, your determination and strength, you could have had your pick of wizards. You still could. Especially if you are also known to be the means by which the true power over the wizarding world was restored to his rightful place!"

"You murdered my parents." Hermione's every word was chipped from stone, and Voldemort took a step back in shock. "Twice. What makes you think I would lift a finger to see you saved from the hell where you belong?"

"Such a charming child you raised," Voldemort remarked to the Pack-parents, turning now to look at them, one by one. "Or should I say, such charming children. Such a pity they stand imprisoned in this circle, doomed to die of hunger or exhaustion, if their parents remain so obstinate as to stand against my inevitable victory."

"They'd be no less dead if you won," said Padfoot, his tone flat. "And there are worse things than death."

"You would know, Sirius Black." Voldemort leaned as close to Padfoot as the lines of power connecting the Pack and Pride would allow him to get. "Better than almost anyone else living, you would know what fates are worse than death. And should any other give way before you, that will be your fate again. Imprisoned, alone, forgotten, while the worst memories of your life haunt you endlessly, day after day, and all that remains of your precious Pack is a dry and dusty list of names, the names of those who are dead, while you are not…"

For a moment, Harry saw fear in his godfather's eyes. Then Letha's hand tightened around his, and Padfoot exhaled sharply. "I get it," he said, shaking his head as though he had just come out of the water in dog form. "Bribery didn't work, so now you're trying intimidation. If you can't lure us out of the circle, scare us out. Anything to win, right?"

Voldemort snarled wordlessly and turned to stare at Letha. She stared back, her face set in lines of contempt. "You've already done your worst to me," she said softly. "And still, I found my way home. As for them." She nodded towards Moony and Danger, who stood hand in hand, their eyes swirling with color. "Is it really worth your while to try? Your soul couldn't possibly fathom theirs, which means you have no chance to offer them what they want."

"She's right, you know," said Moony conversationally. "You couldn't."

"Nonsense." Voldemort took three strides to confront Moony directly. "Every man has his price. I have proved it over and over. Those I could not buy, I could break, and those I could not break, I could kill."

"And yet…" Moony kindled a tiny fireball in the air between them. "Here I stand. Unbought, unbroken, and surprisingly alive."

"Your tool was flawed," added Danger softly. "Corona fought the Imperius, and I lived. Your tools will always be flawed, my lord, for perfection can only be found in the lifeless. Life, by its nature, is messy, chaotic, imperfect." She smiled. "Rather like magic, and like children. Laughter and friendship and love. All the things, the million and one little things, which make it worth living, every day that is given to us." Her eyes turned momentarily sad. "I pity you, and everyone else who will never understand that simple truth."

Voldemort took a step back, staring at her in confusion, then whirled, his robes flying out, and stalked across the circle once more, headed for Neville.

"There's a name for things like you in my line of work," said Neville before Voldemort could open his mouth. "We call them parasites. And when we find them, we kill them."

"So?" Voldemort spread his arms wide, offering his chest as a target. "Come and kill me, then. The prophecy could, after all, have spoken of you just as easily as Harry."

"Only problem is, you picked Harry." Neville gestured the lightning bolt on his forehead with a finger. "Marked him, like the prophecy also says. The only marks you put on me don't show." His eyes hardened. "Doesn't mean they're not there, but it means it's up to Harry to take you down. But I took your consort, the one person left who had a hand in what happened to my parents. And I didn't kill her. I didn't even hurt her. She's alive inside that tree. She can see, and she can hear, but she can't move, she can't speak, and she can't do any magic. And she's going to stay just like that for as long as the tree is there." His grin flashed out, quick and feral. "Maybe you ought to be glad you picked the one of us you did."

For the first time in his life, Harry saw Lord Voldemort flinch.

"I was born in hiding because of you," said Meghan like a quiet growl of thunder before the Dark Lord could even turn to her. "I grew up having to keep secrets from my best friends. I had to run away from my home and never look back, and work and scheme so my family could be free. My whole life has been spent fighting you. Why do you think I'd help you now?"

"Perhaps for the sake of that same family, and those same friends?" Voldemort's voice had turned honey-sweet as he looked down at Meghan. "I will be free of this circle, pretty Meghan, and when I am, I will kill you all. Unless one of you surrenders to me willingly. Then I might be placed in a good enough humor to spare the rest."

"I don't believe you." Meghan crossed her arms. "You're lying."

"You have my word that your Pack and Pride will not be killed, or harmed in any way you can imagine," Voldemort assured her. "All that you must do is take that one, single, solitary step backwards. You will be rich beyond compare, the most famous of witches, and all before you are even seventeen…"

Meghan tapped her fingers against her left elbow. "But would I ever get to be seventeen?" she asked reasonably. "You said you wouldn't kill them. You never said you wouldn't kill me."

"Of course I would not kill you, foolish girl." Voldemort laughed, but the sound had a brittle edge. "What sort of reward would that be to the one who helped me so greatly?"

"The same kind you give everybody you don't like." Meghan glared. "And I know you, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Even your name is a lie. You couldn't tell the truth if your life depended on it." Unexpectedly, she giggled. "Which right now, it kind of does. Because I might, might, have taken that step back if I thought you were telling the truth." She cocked her head to one side. "But then again, I might not. You'll never know!"

Behind Voldemort's back, Padfoot mimed clapping a hand to his chest and panting for air. Moony just shook his head with a sigh.

"What about you, little cousin, as I understand you are to me now?" Voldemort asked Luna, crossing to her. "We who know the speech of the serpent should be friends and not enemies," he continued in Parseltongue, which Harry translated via jewel-link to the rest of the Pack and Pride. "Will you not join me and learn the greatness the blood of Slytherin craves by its very nature?"

"The greatness my blood craves is not the same as yours, my cousin," answered Luna in the same tongue. "For my blood calls out for great joy, rather than great power. The thrill and wonder of discoveries never seen before by human eyes, and the quiet moments of everyday life which hold the deepest and truest happiness. Rather than rule over others and impose my own standards of perfection upon them by force, I wish to live my own life as closely to those standards as I can, and teach them to others who are drawn to my life's results." She gestured to the circle which surrounded Voldemort. "I think they will all say the same, or some variation thereof."

"If you insist." Voldemort spoke once more in English, and turned his attention to the young man who stood beside Luna, feet planted, eyes front. "And so, I come at last to you. Draco Malfoy."

"Reynard Beauvoi." The young man so named flicked a whiplash glance of contempt over Voldemort with stone-gray eyes. "If you don't mind."

"Oh, but I do mind, Draco. I mind very much indeed, when a wizard such as yourself chooses to deny his father and refuse his name." Voldemort shook his head sadly. "You made, I must admit, a better Lucius than Lucius himself. Such subtlety, such panache. Such power." He prowled a step closer to Fox. "You felt the power, Draco, did you not? When you killed Rowle, when you crushed his throat between your fingers, you felt the glory and the thrill which comes when you make your first kill—oh, but I do apologize. Rowle was not your first. Your first was Lucius himself. And if I may judge by what Harry has told me, you struck him down with silver, and stayed to watch his body crumble away into ashes."

Fox was fighting to keep his breathing level now, and Voldemort moved a step closer still. "That hunger, once you feed it, can never be fully tamed, Draco," he breathed. "Who should know that better than I? You will kill again. It cannot be stopped. And who will it be, next time? Your lovely lady Luna? Your pretty twin Hermione? Your baby sister Meghan, or your dear brother Harry? One of your friends, your parents, perhaps even some innocent passer-by?"

"No." Fox turned his head to one side, panting. "You're lying. It's not like that."

"You will never know what will set it off." Voldemort stepped closer once again. "Not until you stand with blood on your hands and a body at your feet. And then…" He laughed under his breath. "Then they will turn on you like the wolves they are, and rend you limb from limb, or cast you into the prison of nightmares to rot. No one can save you then, Draco." Closer and still closer he leaned, until his chest was almost touching the line of magic which penned him in place. "And only I can save you now. But only if you choose to help me first."

"Help me." Fox repeated the words, dully, and shut his eyes. His head tipped back, his weight began to shift off one foot—

Help me, his voice whispered silently through the jewel-link, terrified, pleading, and with a rush the magic of Pack and Pride responded, a whirl of color humming through the lines, forcing Voldemort back with a shout.

"You lie." Fox's eyes shot open once more, his face as fiercely joyful as though he faced down death at this very moment. "I'm not like you. Killing and pain and power are all you want, all you've ever wanted. I killed to save myself, or to save the ones I love. And I already have what I want." Raising Luna's hand to his lips, he kissed it. "Or I will, once you're out of the way."

Behind him, Narcissa's eyes shone with pride.

"Very well." Voldemort placed himself in the exact center of the circle. "So, it is to be the waiting game. One lone spirit, who needs neither food nor drink nor rest, against twelve poor body-bound souls, and the dead who have come to see them die…"

A stir at the entrance of the Great Hall turned into a moment of shocked hubbub, then died down again just as quickly, as living and dead parted in astonished respect.

Pack, Pride, and Dark Lord turned together to see what new player had entered their game.

Between the rows of people walked Severus Snape, or rather the soul-shape of him. In his arms he carried a little girl of about a year, whose green eyes peeked shyly at all the strangers around her through her mane of warm red hair. Behind him walked a man of late middle age, his auburn beard and hair streaked here and there with white, whose burden was a child of similar age, blue eyes peering warily past a curling curtain of brown.

The hell? said at least three people in the jewel-link.

"Black to red and red to brown." Danger covered her mouth, but her eyes were dancing. Nicely done, Alex.

"Dumbledore," breathed Voldemort, staring at the auburn-haired man. "Even you…"

"Yes, Tom, even I." Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore came to a halt beside the circle of Pack and Pride, beaming genially at them. The little girl he carried hid her face against his shoulder. "This is hardly a moment I would choose to miss." For a moment, his eyes behind their half-moon spectacles held no trace of their usual twinkle. "Seeing you brought to bay at last, and soon to be destroyed, by means you understand not at all."

"Is this…" Danger motioned to the child in his arms. "Is she—"

"She is." Dumbledore turned his attention to Danger, his eyes warming once more. "But she is very young, and easily frightened. She must be assured of your protection, of your welcome. Of your love."

"I think we can do that." Remus reached out and laid his fingertips, very gently, on the child's shoulder, making her stiffen. "Hello," he murmured to her soothingly. "It's all so strange and new, isn't it? But you'll learn, and we'll help you. So someday you'll grow up big and strong and fierce. A Warrior." He gestured to Meghan and Fox, then to Harry and Hermione. "Just like your brothers and your sisters."

"We're here for you," crooned Danger, stroking her own fingertips down the little girl's back, until the tiny head turned and the blue eyes looked wonderingly at her. "And we always will be. We want you. We need you. And we love you." She laughed, though her eyes were strangely bright. "That's something we know very well how to do!"

The girl seemed to consider for a moment. Then, with a crow, she lunged out of Dumbledore's hold towards Remus. He caught her handily, laughing at her obvious delight in this fascinating new game, and tossed her once above his head before he kissed her cheek and passed her to Danger, who settled her onto a hip and stroked the brown curls so very like her own. "Hello, baby," she whispered. "I've been waiting for you."

At the level of the child's breastbone, a faint glow began to shine, tracing lines outward from the new arrival towards Danger and Remus.

That's it! Harry all but shouted through the link, and turned to face the little girl, waving to her when she looked his way. "Hi there," he said, smiling at her. "I'm your big brother Harry. We're going to have lots of fun when you get big enough, you know that? I'm going to teach you how to do tricks on a broomstick, and Neenie—she's the one over there, with hair kind of like your mum—she's going to teach you how to climb up shelves to get at where the good stuff's hidden, and Meghan, she's over there with all the braids, she's going to teach you how to cry on cue…"

"Oh, for heaven's sake." Danger groaned. "Can't you even let the child be born before you start corrupting her?"

"Why wait?" Fox chuckled. "Hey, baby. You can call me Fox. Maybe, if you're very good, I'll let you chew on my ears. But only until you have teeth, because that's a funny story to listen to when it's Padfoot getting nipped, but it wouldn't be funny if it was me."

"Speak for yourself, kid. I think it'd be hilarious." Padfoot waved at the little girl. "Hey, there, you. Took you long enough getting here. We're just going to have to spoil you extra rotten every time your mummy and daddy aren't around to make up for it."

"Don't listen to him," said Letha with a long-suffering sigh. "Or rather, go ahead and listen to him, since I know you will anyway. But listen to me too, and your born parents—that way you might get a trace of common sense to go along with all this madness…"

The little girl crowed once more, bouncing in Danger's hold, as she looked gleefully from one welcoming, joy-filled face to another. Tiny hands reached out, grasping at each Marauder and Warrior in turn, and the lines of light followed in their wake, stretching, brightening, broadening—

"No!" Voldemort sprang forward towards the child, but Harry and Hermione moved faster. With a snap of power, the line between them shot into red-hot life, and Voldemort shrieked and recoiled from it, as the new lines of power and love, anchored in the baby held between Danger and Remus, settled quietly into place.

"You asked how we could be so stupid as to use the magic of numbers against you." Harry drew his dagger from its sheath at his side. "I'll give you one right back. How were you so stupid as to forget what we are? We're a family. And families grow." He cast a quick glance back at Snape, who stood silently behind him and Ginny with the red-haired little girl in his arms, before he went on. "We used to be twelve. Now, we're thirteen. And that means…" Taking one step forward, he seized the bundle of magic lines anchored at his chest and slashed them through, dissipating them on contact. Only his bond to his body, and his bond to Voldemort, remained. "Twelve are still standing strong in that circle. You can't break it. And here I am." Going to one knee, he picked up the silver cord which tethered soul to body. "Ready to do what I have to, to make sure you never hurt anyone I love. Not ever again."

Not without me you don't, Ginny snapped, with an odd glow to her magic-feel. Harry frowned, trying to track it down—it felt very Gryffindor, somehow—but then set it aside as unimportant. What mattered now was beating Voldemort.

No matter what it costs.

"Come on, then," he said, holding up cord and knife. "Partners it is. Which one you want?"

"This." Ginny seized the cord, twisted it around her hands in a complicated, familiar pattern, and held it out to him. "I love you, Harry," she said quietly. "Strike true."

"I love you, Ginny." With one swift, drawing slice, Harry severed the piece of cord offered to him between his wife's upraised hands.

A cold chill struck through him, and as he looked down at himself, he saw all his color drain away. He got to his feet and walked forward towards Voldemort, the true silver of a spirit or a ghost surrounding him, and saw with satisfaction the fear he'd always known lived behind those slitted eyes.

"I don't know about you," he said, dropping the dagger at Voldemort's feet. "But I'm about ready to find out what's waiting in my next great adventure."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Snape lean forward and hand the little girl in his arms to Ginny. She cradled the child to her chest, whispering to her, watching Harry intently. All other motion seemed to have stopped.

From the doorway came the notes of a glorious, heart-filling song, and Fawkes the phoenix soared over the heads of the crowd, circling Harry and Voldemort three times, then offering his plumed tail. Harry caught it in his hand, and felt himself lifted off the ground, every eye in the Great Hall following him.

"I cannot die," breathed Voldemort, and dropped to his knees, scrabbling for Harry's dagger. "I cannot die!"

With a scream, he sliced the intangible blade through the cord which bound him to Harry.

The baby girl in Ginny's arms wailed in distress and reached out a hand.

Fawkes cried out, a single note of pure, indescribable triumph.

White light exploded in all directions from the center of the Pack and Pride's circle.

Harry Potter closed his eyes and let go, falling softly into the light.

  • Previous
  • Next

Author Notes:

There used to be a final section here, but I have removed it. It will go far better somewhere in the next chapter. And yes, that does mean you get one more horrible cliffhanger from me. For old times' sake, you understand.

Yes, there will be explanations next chapter. There will be many, many explanations next chapter. For those of you who can't wait, I will just ask one question: what is the hobby Harry and Ginny share, and in which they were first described as "partners"?

And yes, this is the end, officially, of the Second War Against Voldemort. The remaining six chapters of the main Dangerverse consist of post-war cleanup, story conclusions, and other enjoyable things. Including Chapter 70, the Epilogue, which opens on a certain person's one hundred twenty-third birthday…

But I have said too much already.

I hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Happy birthday Hermione, happy International Talk Like a Pirate Day (argh!), and happy third anniversary Surpassing Danger! I hope it's been worth the wait.

Next chapter is entitled "Cornerstone", in which we finally get a number of things about Heirs and suchlike cleared up, names for the little girls we met this chapter are decided upon, and all manner of other fun and enjoyable things happen. Thanks as always for reading, please don't forget to review, and I'll see you all next time!