Chapter 40: An Act of Mercy
The dawn had broken as Harry circled high above green forest and winding brooks that sparkled in the sun’s reflected rays. He was looking down at the same twisted roads and grouped homes that he’d seen on the map of Godric’s Hollow. It seemed that shapes and turns of the village had sprung to colour and life from the parchment he was holding firmly in his steady hand.
Shrouded beneath his Invisibility Cloak, he was atop Clarimonde, who was hidden by a Disillusionment Charm. He had been too nervous to Apparate directly to his parents’ home. He had wanted to know exactly where he was going, exactly what his surroundings would be. He wanted to see it all.
More than anything, he wanted the peace of being in the air. It wasn’t a broom, but flying on Clarimonde was just as freeing. He wanted to experience it “ perhaps for the calm, or perhaps out of the fear that it would be his last chance to feel it.
His eyes rested on his destination, and with a deep breath, he began his descent. Number Seven, Cathair Mhór Áit had not been visited since Harry was rescued from the ashes almost seventeen years previously, or so it seemed from its state of neglect. Harry’s courage faltered as he took in the sight of it, charred and crumbling; anyone would know something horrible had happened here. The garden was barren of life and the brick of the one-storied house was blackened, as though by fire and smoke. There was an atmosphere of terror, and of sadness. Harry could smell death in the air, despite the horrors having long since occurred. His stomach churned, not from sickness, but from anger.
Clarimonde made a soft, comforting sound as he dismounted her and looked around. He gave her a soothing hush and led her off to the back of the house, where he tied her up behind some trees where, if Voldemort showed up, she was more likely to remain hidden. He patted her neck and then, drawing his wand, looked tentatively at the back door to the house.
Number Seven.
His parents’ home. His own home.
He didn’t know whether he should go in or not. He didn’t know if that was even something he was ready for. Looking up at the sky, where dark clouds were gathering, he weighed his options. He had not come here to visit the past “ he could do that later, after. But, if something went wrong, if he didn’t succeed, he would never have another chance to see the place he lived the first year of his life.
That’s not how you need to be thinking, Harry, he told himself. Nodding firmly, he sat down, in the dry dirt, his back against the wall of the desolate house. He ran his hand along the front of his robe, across his chest where the parchment was folding inside his pocket. He twirled his wand in his hand, and darted his eyes constantly at his surroundings. He had nothing to do but whisper incantations under his breath, and so that’s what he did. It was like waiting to take an exam, only with less butterflies and more pure fear. Harry decided that when he came out of this, he really shouldn’t have to take his N.E.W.T’s. A small grin split onto his face as he thought of Hermione’s reaction to such a suggestion.
He remembered her words “ that his actions were insane. Honestly, sitting there, waiting to see if Voldemort would show up for a spontaneous duel to the death, he could see her point had been fair. He’d probably be going home in a few hours, feeling like a moron for sitting in the dirt of his parents’ back garden and waiting for a fate that never arrived.
He contemplated which would be worse: if the corrupted soul of Tom Riddle stayed away, torturing him longer, keeping their inevitable battle at bay. Or if he showed up, and instead of falling defeated at Harry’s wand, claimed victory over him. The more Harry considered his actions, and his plan, his secret tucked away inside his robes, he considered the prophecy. Harry had begun to fear that Dumbledore had not told him the whole truth about the meaning of the prophecy. That it was meant to be interpreted differently. That instead of Harry defeating Voldemort, Voldemort was mean to destroy him.
And that was when the wind whistled a haunting tune in his ear, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to raise. Harry shuddered and scanned the clearing that was the back garden.
“You’re foolish, boy,” the wind whispered.“But not stupid. You knew I would find you here.”
Harry stood up, tall and ready, his wand drawn.
“Are you really ready to face me, boy?”
“I don’t have time for games, Voldemort.”
There was a hiss, followed by the horribly familiar high-pitched, cold laughter, and the wind whipped around Harry’s body faster, his black hair flying about madly. He could hear nothing but the sound of his own heart pounding in his chest, and he gripped his wand. There was a swish of black cloak as Voldemort materialised before him, still laughing cruelly.
His eyes glinted with red insanity as he smiled leeringly at Harry, who looked upon him fiercely. This was the battle he had been preparing for his entire life, even before he knew who Voldemort was. Everything led up to this.
“So, today is the day you have chosen to finally accept your fate and let me kill you. How noble, Mr Potter.”
“I don’t have time for your arrogance, Lord.”
Harry did not want to hesitate, he did not want to indulge Lord Voldemort in witty banter, and be the subject of arrogant jeers and insults. He was not going to walk around in circles as the tension built, he was not going to play this on Voldemort’s terms. Without further deliberation, Harry threw his energy into his wand.
“Poenaferus.”
Unsurprising to Harry, Voldemort’s reaction was quick. But not quick enough. Having been caught unawares, he did not completely block the spell. He let out an angry shout of pain as he faltered slightly, his knee bent, as though bowing, while he gasped for breathe.
“There’ll be no need to bow to me, Tom,” Harry said, and Voldemort glared at him.
“Crucio “ ”
“Protego!”
Harry cast the Shield Charm knowing well it would not protect against the full blow of a Cruciatus Curse “ particularly one as powerful as Voldemort’s. Harry shuddered as a short but searing pain rippled through his body, but did not let it delay him in his next attack.
“Alsius Flamare!”
This time, Voldemort evaded the spell completely, whipping around with lightning speed and reappearing several feet away from path of the jet of blue light.
“You had a good start, Harry, my boy “ but you got lucky,” he sneered condescendingly. “Now, you will know what it is like to be at my mercy.”
“You don’t possess mercy,” Harry spat.
“Then perhaps you should be more concerned,” Voldemort said sinisterly. ““Crucio!”
“Chaos Protectum!”
Harry felt his energy drain significantly as he held his wand on the more powerful defensive spell, a black void of a wall between him and his nemesis. It swallowed the Cruciatus, and Harry gave a dark laugh.
“Is that the only spell you know, Tom?” Harry said, as he came around the other side of it and strode towards Voldemort.
“The most effective,” he replied. “I could resort to the Killing Curse, but I want to see you suffer, first. I want to see you writhing on the ground, screaming, crying and begging for me to end your worthless life.”
He was furious, and was making poor attempts to hide his frustration as he paced before Harry, like a predator having trouble catching his prey. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, he disappeared in another swirl of his black robes “ Harry didn’t have a chance before he heard the cry behind him.
“Crucio.”
It was a callous, arrogant snarl, and Harry was on the ground, bolts of pain shooting through every limb, ever part of his body. His eyes were shut, in some meager attempt to keep the pain out, but he could feel Voldemort looming over him, bearing down on him with his wand.
It stopped.
The pain ebbed away…
“That’s more like it,” Voldemort murmured. “Crucio!”
Harry attempted to roll over before the second curse hit him, but was not fast enough. The pain riveted through his body again, and he could hear himself screaming sickeningly. Voldemort tortured him longer than the previous spell, before finally relenting.
“And now, Harry, do you wish to beg for mercy? Do you wish to plead for your life?”
“You’re not going to let me live, so why should I give you the satisfaction?” Harry said through gritted teeth
“You make an excellent point,” Voldemort agreed softly. “Shall we just get on with it then?”
“I think so,” Harry said, kicking Voldemort’s legs from under him and crawling back to his own feet.
“You ignoble cheater,” Voldemort roared.
“That was for the Muggles,” Harry said with satisfaction. “And this is for Dumbledore “ Lacertergro.”
Harry let the incantation cross his lips as he brought his wand down, slicing the air like a blade, knowing as he cast the spell that he was successful. The spell caught Voldemort’s arm and ripped through his robes, his skin, and there was a burst of the vivid colour of blood as it spurted from his flesh, causing the dark wizard to snarl.
It was his wand hand.
“Accio!”
Voldemort grasped unsuccessfully as his yew wand slipped from his blood covered fingers and glided softly to Harry’s waiting hand. Harry felt a shiver as he realized the magnitude of what he held “
And then he broke it cleanly in half.
Something indescribable fluttered through him, and he looked back at Voldemort, who was staring in disbelief.
“Poenaferus.”
Voldemort cried out in pain at the short but fiercely painful effect of the spell, and Harry shortly followed it up with another weakening blow.
“Lacertergro!”
This time, the slash was down his pale grey neck and through his chest. Voldemort breathed harshly as his wounds bled uncontrollably.
Harry could feel the anger and fury coursing through his own blood. He could feel his heart beating with a sense of long awaited vindication, with the victory of the battle. The wizard who had caused him so much pain was lying helpless before him.
Vigil Tenebrae,” he muttered, holding his wand on the fallen wizard, circling him, watching him what he knew was a moment of darkness, blindness. “This is what you deserve. That nothing that surrounds you right now, while all your nightmares close in on you? That’s hell, and that’s where you belong, Voldemort.”
“You unworthy, dirty-blooded -”
“I have more magical blood than you,” Harry cut him off. “My mother was a witch “ Muggleborn or not. Your father was a Muggle. You have no right to punish anyone for their circumstances of birth. And you’re not going to ever again.”
“You have not beaten me “ ”
“I have your wand, which is broken and useless anyway, and you are at my mercy as we speak. You are bleeding, blinded and trapped in a state of your own fears.”
“If you’ve won, boy, then why are we still here, conversing about morals and blood purity?”
Harry blinked. This was it, Voldemort was at his mercy. All that was left to do was…
He took a deep breath, lifting his wand and releasing the waking blindness he held over Voldemort. He stood for a moment, boring into Voldemort’s red eyes with his own green ones.
“What are you waiting for, Harry?” he taunted.
Avada Kedavra, just say it.
The words did not seem to want to cross his lips. He looked at the evil being that lay before him, gasping for the smallest breath of air, bleeding profusely, seemingly unable to even move.
Voldemort was weak. Voldemort was human. Voldemort didn’t need anyone special to vanquish him. He didn’t even need to be killed “ he could be captured and forced to live a lifetime of misery for all he had done.
And Harry Potter wasn’t a murderer.
“I can’t kill you.”
Wrong, it was all wrong. He couldn’t kill. This wasn’t going to happen like this. He didn’t even know if saying the words would do a damned thing. Harry felt an overwhelming nausea engulf him as he realized his fears about the true meaning of the prophecy were right.
Harry lowered his wand slightly, faltering.
There was a blur. Voldemort’s hand waved, and Harry felt his wand slip from his hand. There was a mirthless laugh, and Harry fell formless to the dirt.
“How did you really think this would end?” Voldemort wheezed, having trouble even standing up.”
He’s weak…
… but he’s the one with the wand now.
And Voldemort would not hesitate to kill him.
“Any last words, Harry Potter?”
“I have a secret,” Harry said quietly, the darkness of his own failure closing in on him, but not yet in control.
Voldemort’s eyes narrowed, “What is this secret?”
…BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT…
Harry thought of the parchment in his pocket. On it, he had written to Katie. It was a goodbye letter. But that was not all. He had torn a page from his notebook, and charmed it. Every action, every spell, every word, every sound, it was all transcribed onto that single piece of parchment. Everything that happened from the time he left Grimmauld Place.And upon his death, Katie would know everything that happened between Harry and Voldemort. Everything that happened “ every spell, every word, every action, it had been recorded. Recorded where it would be read by those who were not there.
Harry looked at Voldemort, directly in the red of his eyes.
“If - when you kill me, everyone will know what took place here. They’ll know that you were taken down by a seventeen-year-old, that the only reason you were spared was because Harry Potter didn’t have it in him to kill.”
Harry took a deep, shuddering breath, and consoled himself with the hope that Katie would know that the man she loved was not a killer, even if he was not necessarily a hero either.
“They won’t be scared anymore. They’ll come after you, and they’ll destroy you. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it. The power I had wasn’t to kill you, after all. It was to let everyone else know that you are not invincible.”
Voldemort gave a soft, mirthless chilling laugh and twirled Harry’s wand in with his long fingers, which were covered in his own blood.
“Harry Potter, you are a fool, and I am not afraid of your baseless threats,” he murmured. “You should have known you could not beat me. Those who come after you will learn the same.”
Harry closed his eyes; he choked back tears at the thought of Ron and Hermione, and everything he had been through with them since he was eleven. He thought of those lost “ Dumbledore, Snape, Ginny, Mr Weasley, Sirius, his parents “ and wondered if he would be seeing them shortly. Finally, his thoughts grasping hold of Katie, her smile, the taste of her lips and the warmth of her embrace, he opened his eyes and looked directly at Voldemort, who was pointing Harry’s own wand at him.
AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER…
“You’re wrong.”
“Avada Kedavra.”
…FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES.
Back at Grimmauld Place, Katie was sobbing as Ron wrapped his arms tightly around her and Hermione held her hand. The Weasleys had risen and were grouped in the kitchen, white-faced and shaking.
“Tell us where he went,” Bill said exhaustedly for the hundredth time.
“No,” Ron said in a hollow voice, staring blankly ahead.
“You’ve let your best friend go to his death, what is wrong with the two of you?!”
“Bill, stop it,” Mrs Weasley said, her lip trembling.
“He’s been gone for three hours,” Hermione said weakly.
“He’s still alive,” Mrs Weasley said. “He’s still alive, I know he’s still alive.”
They all looked at her, and the quickly turning away, all trying to decide if they believed her, all wondering if she even believed it herself.
Hermione broke into choked sobs, and quickly tried to stifle them again. She was not going to cry. She had to stay strong. There was hope, still.
She looked at Ron, and their eyes met in a silent prayer.
Harry opened his eyes.
Everything was deadly silent.
The sky was no longer cloudy, but crystal clear.
He couldn’t feel anything. His body was numb.
And then, there was a soft nudge against his leg. He looked to see who was touching him, but saw nobody “
No. There was something there. There was a movement.
“Clarimonde…”
She was still Disillusioned. Harry sat up, confused, and his body was no longer numb. Instead, it ached.
He looked around and found that he was still in Godric’s Hollow. Still in the barren back garden of his parents’ home.
And Voldemort’s immobile corpse was on the ground only three feet from him.
Utterly bewildered, Harry jumped to his feet, ignoring the dizziness that overcame his body. He looked across the ground, stained red with blood. His eyes rested on the wand that had been snapped in two, and at his own wand lying next to Voldemort.
He was dead.
Harry needed to call the Order. Grabbing his wand, he didn’t need a happy thought to conjure the form that would take his message to Grimmauld Place.
“Expecto Patronum!”
The silver stag that was Harry’s protector flew quickly from the wand and was quickly out of sight. The only thing to worry about now was the fact that he’d never summoned the Order by Patronus before. He’d only heard about it in the meetings…
His worries were needless, though, because in a few minutes, Remus Lupin Apparated next to Harry, who was on the ground again, staring at Voldemort’s lifeless form.
“Harry “ what happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is he “ ”
“He’s dead. Yes.”
It did not take long for the celebrations to commence. Less than an hour after Harry had woken up and left Godric’s Hollow with Lupin, he saw fireworks in the skies. He realized that everyone must have heard that Voldemort was dead, and unlike Harry, did not have any questions. They did not care what had happened, or how it had happened.
However, as Harry was led to the demolished, but slowly recovering, castle of Hogwarts, everyone who met him did so with silence. He could not tell if it was anxious, fearful or reverent. He didn’t much care at that particular moment.
“I want to see Katie,” he said. “And Ron and Hermione. I need to see them.”
“We’re going to Dumbledore, first,” Remus said quietly.
“What?”
“His portrait. It’s been smiling at us mysteriously all morning.”
“You think his portrait was charmed to know something about this?”
“Yes.”
Harry’s mind whirled as he traveled across the warmly familiar grounds, along one of the many paths paved by centuries of students. They walked in through the Entrance Hall, now without doors, and Lupin led him to the Professor McGonagall’s office. Or, what had once been Dumbledore’s.
“Mr Potter! Oh, goodness, is it true?” Professor McGonagall only stopped short of tackling him as he came through the door. “What happened?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Lupin said quietly, and he turned to look at a portrait newly added to the wall.
“Hello, Remus,” Dumbledore said politely.
“Voldemort has been defeated, sir,” Lupin said quietly.
“I heard as much,” the painted professor said happily.
“We just don’t know what happened,” Harry blurted out.
Dumbledore smiled softly at Harry, and looked to Professor McGonagall.
“Can I speak with Harry alone for a few minutes?”
“Yes, of course,” she said, still flustered, and she ushered Lupin out of the office.
“Do you mind telling me what happened?” Dumbledore asked when they had left.
“Er, why do I think you already know, sir?”
Dumbledore chuckled.
“Because I do. And because I told you before that I could not tell you the truth, and you “ the courageous young lad that you are “ accepted that.”
“Well, can I know now, please?” Harry said with a tired sigh.
“Am I right in assuming that you did not hit Lord Voldemort with a Killing Curse, Harry?”
“Yeah. I had him… I had the chance, but I couldn’t do it.”
“You spared him.”
“Yeah.”
“And in doing so, you formed a blood debt.”
The words rang importantly in Harry’s mind, and while he still hadn’t a clue what it meant, Harry suddenly felt realisation dawn.
“You know about these debts, Harry,” Dumbledore continued. “They are very powerful, very deep magic. When you spared Voldemort’s life, he fell into your debt. In turn, as he tried to take your life “ which I shall assume he did, otherwise we would not be here discussing this “ you were spared and the magic took Voldemort’s body and soul instead.”
“And he used my wand,” Harry muttered quietly. “It was my wand that killed him.”
“Right you are. Just as it was intended by the prophecy, I believe.”
“I thought… I thought maybe you’d misinterpreted out of misplaced hope, or maybe you lied to me, so I didn’t know the truth…”
“What did you believe the truth to be?”
“When I realized “ or assumed “ that Voldemort wasn’t going to die at my hand, I thought the prophecy meant it to end the other way around. For me to die at the hand of Voldemort. And that the ‘power I had that the Dark Lord knows not’ was the journal parchment, that had written down all that had happened between us, and that would tell the world that he wasn’t truly invincible.
“And I shall forgive you for that, Harry.”
Harry swallowed hard. Everything began adding up.
“If you had told me what it was I had to do, it would have been wrong. The magic wouldn’t have worked, because I would have spared Voldemort’s life for the wrong reasons.”
“And so, you were left to go into battle without knowing. believed that when Voldemort killed you, it was still the end for him, because you had proven him weak. You were willing to sacrifice not only the glory of being the hero, but your own life. You showed love, mercy, and bravery, and Voldemort showed nothing but arrogance and hatred. That is why you are here and he is gone.”
Harry nodded, and didn’t form words because he couldn’t really figure out what was left to say. So he just kept nodding.
“Go back to your friends, Harry. Voldemort has been vanquished.”
Year Seven: Harry Potter & The Blood Debt by GringottsVault711
Chapter Notes: There will be a short epilogue following this chapter. So, yes, some loose ends will be tied. *hides*