Disclaimer: I own nothing, just writing for fun.
A grunt escaped Arthur’s lips as the churning wave swept over him; his exhausted body still crouched weakly on the ground. The swiftness of this stream was terrifying, as though The Hall held this particular memory in high regard and was anxious to let the imprint be known. Arthur closed his eyes, screwing up all his remaining strength, sensing that this memory would be the most difficult of all.
The whirling slowed, and Arthur’s ears were met with a quiet symphony of sounds. The chirping of crickets, the rustling of a soft breeze through leaves, the gentle hooting of an owl. He opened his eyes warily to find a vivid scene before him. It was night, though the world was lit by the haunting glow of a full moon. Shadows stretched eerily across an unkempt yard, a once grand, but obviously forgotten house visible in the distance.
I know this place, Arthur thought, his stomach filling with dread. This was where the final confrontation took place, The Great Battle where Voldemort fell, and the war was finally won. His heart sank even further when he realized it was that very same night, before the Order swept the scene, battling Death Eaters and desperately searching for Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
The end of it all had come so quickly. The three of them had been missing for weeks when suddenly the Order had received a call for help, followed by an abrupt victory. Their success had almost seemed cheap. Everyone knew the real battle had occurred before the Order had even arrived, and yet there was no one to tell the tale. The three heroes, their saviors, were found asleep, their story untold. Until now, Arthur thought as three figures appeared in the darkness before him...
Harry, Ron, and Hermione crept through the trees, their wands held high, their faces alert. They slunk wordlessly toward the abandoned house, a deep frown spreading over Harry’s face as he moved, clearly weary at the thought of entering such a place. He turned towards Ron and Hermione, nodding once before moving towards the door. As if on cue they pulled out a silvery cloak, wrapping it around themselves and disappearing instantly into the shadows.
Harry moved inside, the old floorboards creaking loudly under his feet. He crept stealthily through the aging halls, the dust from years of neglect deafening his footfalls as he moved further into the mansion. He passed room after room, obviously looking for something, or someone. At last, in an old drawing room, he found his mark. In the center of the room, a bright, toxic blue light was glowing radiantly, surrounding a thin floating wand. Harry paused and looked around him, examining the room closely. After a few moments, he finally stepped forward, reaching out his hand and grasping the wand firmly in his hand. There was a loud crack in the doorway, a tall figure obscured in the shadows. Harry looked almost nonplussed, as though he’d been expecting the arrival of some unknown visitor.
“Transitus statum!” a voice like a hiss echoed from the doorway. Harry momentarily flinched, as if surprised, before regaining his original composure. Out of the darkness stepped Lord Voldemort, his long black robes sweeping ominously behind him.
“Well Harry, so nice to see you again. And in my father’s house, no less,” Voldemort said with a mirthless grin. “And I see you’ve found my treasure! It really was quite generous of Mr. Ollivander to, shall we say, donate it to my cause.” With a firm swipe of his hand, the wand Harry had plucked from the blue light was thrown aside, landing far across the room, the blue light returning. “Now Harry, let’s not draw this out. Be a good lad and just die quickly, though if you insist on dueling, I’d be more than happy to oblige.”
“Let’s just get on with it,” Harry said suddenly, slashing his wand through the air and hurtling a non-verbal spell at Voldemort. Whatever spell he’d cast was tossed aside with a hollow laugh, Voldemort retaliating instantly, a jet of yellow light issuing from his wand. Harry narrowly avoided it, sending out a Stunning Spell in response. The stunner never hit its mark, but the Cruciatus Curse hit Harry dead on.
He crumpled instantly, his face screwed up in pain as he fought to keep from screaming. Then, almost as fast as it began, the spell was inexplicably lifted, Voldemort turning about angrily, his gaze falling on the corner into which he’d cast Ravenclaw’s wand. A loud snap split the silence. Two figures fell to the ground, the cloak they’d been wearing frayed beyond repair, revealing pained and bloodied faces, the protections on the wand clearly emitting some damage upon being destroyed.
Voldemort raged, swishing his wand at Ron and Hermione, sending them crashing into a nearby wall where they remained frozen, their eyes fixated on the scene unfolding before them. “Very clever, Harry,” Voldemort hissed as Harry staggered to his feet, his wand shaking in his hand. “Your plan succeeded, but at what cost? Now your friends can watch you die. It will be the last thing they see before I send them to join you!”
Harry launched forward, a blind fury pulsing from his body at this veiled threat. He held his own, casting spell after spell and blocking many more, but it was evident he was no match for Lord Voldemort. He finally fell to his knees, his body wracked in torturous pain, screams bellowing from his mouth. Voldemort’s wrath was unrelenting, his face growing more maniacal with every passing second as he deepened the power behind the curse. On the wall, tears spilled from Ron and Hermione’s eyes, helpless to do anything but watch as Harry was tortured to death.
Suddenly a strange, crimson light began to pour off of Harry, seeping from his very skin. The light grew and spread, whirling violently through the air. Voldemort started, taken aback by this new intrusion. The red bonds swirled closer, wrapping menacingly around his body. Voldemort released his hold on Harry, but the streams kept coming, coiling like a snake around the Dark Lord’s tall skeletal form.
He fired spell after spell, cursing loudly and staggering back, but nothing could stop the streams. Voldemort did not know the power of love. He could not understand the strength of the imprint Lily had left behind. He couldn’t fathom the love Harry felt for those he’d lost; how the caring he felt for those he was leaving behind could change the love from his very soul into something alive and tangible.
Voldemort yelled, his cries drowning in swirling red. The scarlet mass churned tighter and tighter until he could no longer be seen, his cries weakening until there was only a rush of sound from the sweeping streams of love. Finally, with a deafening crack, the streams vanished. Hermione and Ron fell to the ground, released from their bonds.
Voldemort was dead.
“Harry!” Hermione sobbed, dashing across the room and plunging to her knees at Harry’s side.
“You’ll be alright, mate; we’ll get you out of here,” Ron said in a hurried tone, carefully pulling Harry from the ground.
“It’s all my fault. I should have known he’d come himself when you breeched the shield!” Hermione scolded herself, wrapping Harry’s arm around her neck for support.
“I’m alright,” Harry grunted his face very pale, “What was that red light?”
Neither Ron nor Hermione responded for a moment. “Whatever it was, it worked, Harry,” Ron said in a quiet voice, pulling Harry down the hall. “He’s dead. I don’t know how, but he’s gone, this time for good.”
“All the more reason we should hurry,” Hermione added in a rushed tone. “The Death Eaters will have felt it when he passed, they’ll be here any moment. If only he hadn’t cast an Apparation Ward when he arrived!” she finished angrily, opening the door and shuffling through rapidly.
She made a feeble attempt at Apparating once they’d stepped outside, but it was immediately clear the ward was covering the entire property. Minutes later, they were halfway across the yard when a dozen black cloaked figures appeared out of the darkness, running with unadulterated rage towards their master’s killers. Ron and Hermione acted quickly, firing defensive spells and pulling Harry towards a small cottage at the edge of the property. Barricading themselves inside, Harry weakly raised his arm and fired off his Patronus, while Ron and Hermione cast protective spells over the tiny house.
Within moments they were blasted back, the Death Eaters taking aim at the rickety old cottage, intent on bringing it down. Ron covered Hermione’s head with his arms as a mass of rubble fell from the ceiling, the old beams shattering under the hail of spells. They were too grossly outnumbered and injured to fight. Their only hope was that the Order would arrive quickly.
“Stupid brats! COME OUT!” a voice rang through the walls, followed by murmured assents and a continuing stream of spells.
Harry crouched into a corner as more debris feel from the rooms above, Ron and Hermione pressed closely against a wall nearby. A Stunning Spell broke through their defenses, shattering a high window to pieces and littering the ground with jagged shards of glass. Hermione leapt forward instantly, repairing the window and mending her protective spells.
“I have an idea,” another voice said menacingly from outside as Hermione set to work mending the broken holes in the wall. “Liquifluctus!” the man said, receiving mirthful laughs from his compatriots as the spell took affect.
A thin mist began floating through the cracks in the walls, settling slowly downward through the air. It reached Hermione first, her body crumpling instantly as it touched her skin.
“NO!” Ron shouted, sliding forward and pulling Hermione into his arms. Harry crawled painfully to their side, shaking his head in disbelief. Hermione’s eyes opened briefly, tears pooling thickly around her lashes as she gazed at Ron and Harry. The house began to shake again, rubble falling dangerously all around them.
“I’m sorry,” Hermione whispered, as though she’d failed them, her face breaking in sorrow as her eyes drifted shut, her body moving no more. Ron bellowed in despair, clutching Hermione to his chest while Harry, a few tears falling down his cheeks, ran his hand over Hermione’s thick, frizzy hair. Above their heads, the mist was slowly descending, drifting closer and closer. Harry aimed his wand, uselessly trying to blast it away. Finally he met Ron’s eyes, their blue color flooded over with unshed tears as he rocked Hermione gently in his arms.
“Thank you, Harry,” Ron said, his voice cracking. “For everything.”
“I should be thanking you,” Harry responded, placing his other hand on Ron’s shoulder.
They looked at each other for a moment, like two brothers at the end of a long journey, saying goodbye for the last time. In moments the mist reached Ron’s head, sending him to the ground instantly, Hermione still held tightly in his embrace. A defeated roar escaped Harry’s mouth as he clutched his friends weakly, the fog sinking steadily lower to bring him along. Closing his eyes, the mist enveloped him, sending him to the ground beside Ron and Hermione. Three friends, together until the very end.
The swirling mass retracted, pulling itself away from Arthur Weasley with a powerful rush of energy. Arthur lay on the ground, curled up into himself and weeping openly. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had fought with more love than he could have dreamed, literally bringing the Dark Lord down with the strength of their devotion. And now they relived this night over and over, perpetually lost in the nightmare of torture, pain, and loss. They each fell into their dreams thinking they’d lost the others, each blaming themselves in turn.
Arthur took a deep, shuddering breath. He was more determined now that ever before, seeing the hell they were experiencing every moment. He had to find a memory to save them. A powerful memory, good enough to counteract all the pain and evil he’d just seen. He would find the memory, no matter the cost.
One Last Golden Day by Gryffinpuff
Chapter Notes: There is a character death in this scene, though one that you will likely enjoy. And if you are prone to crying easily, well, you might want to have a kleenex handy.