~~~ Ding Dong, Ding Dong



When the church bells ring, it is a sign that service has started in the abbey nestled in the Scottish Highlands. One solitary figure sits, listening and waiting at an abandoned dining table lost in the overgrowth of the forest.



The forest where the abbey lies is dark and dangerous, with more magical creatures roaming through its woods than the Amazon Jungle. Few wizards even dare test its limits. Only one cloaked figure does not rush out of the forest; he hesitates as the abbey gates come into view. He does not dare linger, for his judgment has come.



She refuses to hide the scar that lies from the tip of her nose to her right ear. She stares ahead and blinks slowly, lost in her separate reality, the motion of a feral cat hunting not even registering. She has but one focus: waiting for him.



She hears the wind rustle against his cloak; he has decided to join her.



They meet.



She sits calmly, emotionless, nothing but the monotone of her voice ringing in his ears to let him know that she is still alive. She has cried for too many and for too long. She has decided she won’t feel any longer.



She eyes him with apprehension, as he has ended the lives of so many. She taps her fingers on the table as if she is nervous, but she knows she needn’t worry. The Devil has no power here.



Still, she bites her lip.



His brain swirls in shades of grey; he does not care that he is losing. He has lost his pride, dignity, and stature. His arrogance, she notes, has not quite left him yet.



He leans backwards, the chair creaking as if a thousand troubles had found themselves being supported by the intricately designed back. She notes, again, that this is not just her imagination.



He eyes her with intense dislike, for it was her sudden appearance in the silly game where the silly pawn dared threaten the king that caused him to lose his following.



“You think of it as a game --”



She knows her enemy,



“You left Hogwarts in a thousand ashes --”



and she keeps her friends close,



“Did you not realize you would leave a trail for which I could follow?”



but she keeps her enemy closer.



“And now you expect me to show the mercy that only God can bestow.”



Her vision blurs, focusing on the memories his scent stirs. His robes carry the musty scent of battle and loss and it brings back too much for her to bear.



He laughed maniacally. More than half of his followers -- the Death Eaters -- were still alive, and the brigade that stormed into battle against the Dark Lord were mostly incapacitated, with the exception of Harry Potter and his fellow housemates. They had miraculously dodged killing curse after killing curse. She was in a ditch, somewhere over to the left of one particularly menacing Death Eater.



She was feigning death, her stillness almost unreal. She watched the cloaked man out of the corner of her eye. The long, silver-like blonde hair was tumbling down his back.



He responds.



“I daresay you cannot keep up with my attacks? Is this why you lead me here?”



She frowns and shakes her head. “You arrogant fool. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone, and Muggleborns and their families are being killed left and right. The last of them are hiding in the Abbey,” she gestures towards the tumbledown building, “and I know you came only for them. You killed Harry and continued this war, when it could have been over! There are so few pureblood families left in the world, and it is because you cannot contain your bloodlust!”



The glint in his eye does not waver.



“I may have lost a few foolish friends, but in a game such as this, the longer you are still alive matters most. You cannot simply look at the numbers on the board! You must look at the players. You expect a pawn to kill a king?”



“You sacrificed many, including ones you loved.”



“They helped me gain power, didn’t they?”



“You sacrificed that one red-headed girl on the battlefield. Siobhan Murphy, I believe her name was.”



His eyes lit and his teeth bared. “You killed her. You never got her to a Healer, you never saw that she would be cared for...” His voice never raised, but the fire that lit behind his eyes told her the passionate anger he felt.



“Neither did you.”



He glowers.



She responds. “How could we? You destroyed St Mungo’s on your campaign through London.” A hint of emotion rippled through her voice; whether it was sadness or disgust, he wasn’t sure.



“Her death was not my responsibility.”



Hermione and Lavender Brown stood back to back, one casting jinxes at an approaching Death Eater, and the other trying not to get hit. Dean Thomas had been hit with a Cruciatus Curse and he screamed until his voice was hoarse. Seamus was battling the woman who cast it.



“You can’t kill me!” shrieked the woman, who swung her hair triumphantly every time she waved her wand. “None of you can kill Bellatrix Lestrange!”



Neville rushed to Seamus’ aid. The three cried out with every wave of their wand as they turned in circles to avoid curses cast. Neville suddenly sent a particularly strong Reductor curse at Bellatrix, which split her wand in two. The killing curse she had been ready to send his way backfired. Bellatrix fell to the ground, instantly dead. Neville's eyes widened.



She scarcely hears him while lost in haunting memories, but her eyes snap to attention as Lucius raises his wand.



She responds calmly.



“This is a House of God.”



Lucius smirks. “And I, you foolish girl, am the Devil’s protégé.”



She scowls.



“The last of the Muggleborns are safe, and the Devil cannot harm them here. I became their protector when you killed the last connection I had to sanity. We have both lost in your conquest of power. You even killed someone you cared about in the process…” She stops for a brief pause, as if thinking. “How a person with so much sin in their heart can be capable of love is incomprehensible.” She locks gazes with him. “We both lost, Lucius. Let us end it here.”



Ginny and Luna tended to the injured, but in many cases, they couldn’t do anything. Most were dead or too far gone for their meager healing charms.



Ron stood next to Harry, determined to stay by his side to the very end. Harry was motionless as he stared across the battlefield at Voldemort, who returned the gesture, sneering. Both knew what was inevitable.



Without warning, Ron charged. From her position in the ditch, she couldn’t see Ron's final charge, but what she heard was enough. A battle cry, a manic laugh, a harsh glare of green light, and a scream followed by a small thud.



He leans closer and beckons. A smirk plays on his lips, but his eyes betray. The Devil always makes himself known, and he always runs. Fear shows in the inner most depths of his eyes. She stands strong, for she has one to guide her, to make her bold in the light of fire.



Curses raced towards whoever was in the line of fire. One, two, three jets of green light flew past Harry, and one, two, three of his friends fell dead. Harry then took his aim, and with a sudden swing he cast a jet of green light as another came from the opposing side --



Voldemort fell, and a smile flickered across Harry’s face before his body raced to its final rest.



Lucius stood with his wand still aimed at where Harry had been moments ago, a smirk spread across his face. With a flick of his wand, the casualties on his side, the remaining Death Eaters, and Voldemort’s carcass were gone.



“You forget. If a pawn crosses the chess board, it can become any piece it chooses.” Her voice trembles. “You may be the king, but you are also the last black piece left. I have crossed the board and become a queen…” She smiles. “Lucius, I gave you a chance to repent.”



“Avada --” he starts.



“--Kedavra,” she finishes.



His death sentence was issued long before he killed Harry Potter.



Cho Chang only carried through what no one else could not.



Ding Dong, Ding Dong