Harry gripped his wand tightly, pointing it at Voldemort. Inwardly, he cursed. Standoff! The two wizards held still, eyeing the other carefully.
Voldemort spoke. “You never answered my question.”
Harry narrowed his brow. “What?”
“I asked you before why do you bother. But we were interrupted; I missed your response.”
“Why do you care to know?”
“I am fascinated by believers in hopeless cases.”
“Oh.” Harry said, then fell silent.
“I take it you’re not going to answer?” Voldemort said after a moment.
“No.”
“How sad,” Voldemort said as he launched his attack.
0o0o0o0o0o
Ron dragged Neville to the sidelines of the battle. “What are you doing here?” he asked, eyes wide. Neville shook off Ron’s grip, slightly resentful.
“I want to help,” he repeated. He avoided Ron’s disbelieving stare. Then, in his own defense, he added, “Why is that so hard to believe? I was in Gryffindor wasn’t I?”
Ron gave a shaky laugh. “Right. It’s just-” Ron searched for the words. “You’re not part of the Order, you’ve never helped before, in fact I haven’t seen you… well, since graduation.”
Neville shrugged. “I’ve helped some, just discreetly.” He cast his eye around the scene, taking in the bodies, the fire, and the dueling forces. “But I figured I needed to take a more open approach now.”
Ron half laughed again. More questions raced through his mind, but decided to ask later. “Alright then. Come on.”
“Right,” Neville said, and together the men jumped back in the fray.
0o0o0o0o0o
Hermione dodged a curse and rolled behind a tree. Leaves and dirt clung to her hair and robes. Hermione took a minute to calm her breathing. She and Pansy were separate from the battle, Hermione having followed Pansy into the woods. Hermione could hear her laughing, half-snorting in maddened delight. It was rather unattractive, in Hermione’s opinion.
“You aren’t getting tired, are you Mudblood?” she taunted, waiting for Hermione to come in to view. “I thought you were the perfect little witch, so clever and brave.But you were wrong. You’re just an over-ambitious little Mudblood girl, playing in a game way over your head.”
Hermione clenched the wand tighter, nails digging in her palm. She focused on Pansy’s footsteps, judging the woman’s movement. When Hermione thought her close enough, she jumped out.
“Avis ravens!”
A flock of ravens appeared, swooping down on Pansy. Screaming in rage, she swatted at the birds as they pecked at her robes and skin, leaving red marks. Hermione couldn’t help but pause to smirk (a habit learned from her husband) as Pansy lost her head over a few birds. After a moment, though, Pansy started to set the ravens on fire, prompting Hermione to action.
“Stupefy!”
But Pansy was quick. Dodging the stunner, she threw a purple flame at Hermione. Scenes of the Department of Mysteries flashed through her mind- Neville, Harry and herself fighting Death Eaters…a baby’s head on a man’s body…Dolohov, unable to speak yet still dangerous…
“Protego!”
The purple light shot back at Pansy but missed. The curse hit a tree, catching a branch on fire. Pansy turned and ran toward the burning tree, perhaps thinking of using the fire somehow against Hermione. Hermione followed, aiming a stunning spell at her back.
“Stupefy!” The spell missed by inches, but Pansy, attempting to duck the spell while still running, tripped and landed face down. Hermione was standing directly over her by the time Pansy turned over. Pansy lifted her wand, but Hermione was quicker.
“Conjunctivitis!”
Pansy let out fresh screams as angry boils popped up around her eyes and on her eyelids, effectively blinding her. The boils swelled, oozing blood and pus. Pansy tossed and writhed in the dirt, in too much pain to think clearly. But Hermione wasn’t finished.
“Densaugeo!”
Now, in addition to sores around her eyes, Pansy’s front teeth began to grow to grotesque sizes. Pansy felt her mouth and wailed, though her teeth muffled the sound. Hermione found this spell particularly appropriate, as Hermione, in fourth year, had been hit with the same spell, much to Pansy’s enjoyment.
“Now who’s in over her head?” she said to herself, satisfied. Hermione raised her wand to perform another curse.
“Finite Incantatem,” said a voice quietly behind Hermione. Instantly, the boils subsided and her teeth shrank to normal. Hermione spun around to see Pansy’s savior and gasped.
0o0o0o0o0o
Harry winced as he was thrown back into a thorn patch. Ignoring the sharp pricks, he pulled himself out in time to be hit by another spell. This time he was stuck immobile, not able to twitch an eyelash. As Voldemort came in for the kill, though, Harry threw off the spell and rolled into the brambles again. But instead of climbing out, Harry dug deeper into the close-knit vines. Now Voldemort couldn’t see Harry well enough to curse him. Voldemort laughed softly.
“You can’t hide forever, Potter,” the Dark Lord said, walking closer. “But I must say, that was impressive. Not many wizards can mentally throw off a full body-bind. But you were taught by the best. Or second best, I should say. Even that fool, Dumbledore, can no longer match me in Legilimency and studies of the mind.”
Voldemort was now very close, too close for Harry to feel safe among the thorns. After a beat of silence, he leapt out.
Voldemort was ready. Instantly, the two came to blows. No sooner did one fire a spell than the other had deflected it and sent another curse back. The enemies traveled farther into the dense woods- no sound of the battle could be heard over the shouting and firing of spells. Sometimes a particularly combustible spell would light on shrubbery, causing fires to erupt.
Harry was tired, sore, bleeding, and out of breath. Voldemort was fairly little better; his white skin was marked with dirt and blood. A chunk had been taken out of his ear, making his appearance even more gruesome.
But the fateful moment had to come. Oddly enough, it wasn’t even a spell that triggered it. Harry was walking backwards as Voldemort pursued him. Unable to see where he was going, Harry tripped on a raised root. Voldemort, seizing his chance, cried:
“Accio Wand!”
Harry’s wand flew out of his hand; Voldemort caught it. Then he laid his own wand at Harry’s chest.
“It appears I have finally won,” Voldemort said, taking a final chance to gloat.
“Not quite,” Harry snapped, taking in gasps of air. Voldemort’s face contorted in a way implying amusement.
“Excuse me?” he said, “I really don’t think you can get yourself out of this one. In fact, I believe your lucky star just died.”
“I’m not saying I’m going to escape,” Harry said in a calmer tone.
“Then what are you saying?” Voldemort asked with mock politeness.
“I’m saying neither of us can win.”
This stopped Voldemort. Harry took his silence to expound on his theory.
“That night you came to Godric’s Hollow, you performed a Killing Curse. And when a Killing Curse is cast, someone has to die. But because of the prophecy, it couldn’t be me. And because of all the Dark magics you had worked on yourself, it couldn’t be you. So what happened? The spell took some of both of us.”
“What?” Voldemort said in a death whisper.
“The spell marked me, with this,” Harry said, indicating his scar. “And it reduced you into a spirit- a phantom.”
“That doesn’t explain why I can’t kill you now,” Voldemort hissed, pressing his wand closer.
“Sure it does,” Harry said. “How many times have you said it yourself? We are linked- both Half-bloods, Parselmouths, determined leaders, no respect for rules- you placed a lot of you in me when I was a baby, and in return, I gave you part of my life. We share a life force. If you kill me… we both die.”
0o0o0o0o0o
Neville wiped sweat of his face with a quick swipe of his sleeve. Bellatrix Lestrange lay in a heap before him. Kicking her onto her back, Neville stared into her wide, glassy eyes. Her features, once so mysterious and seductive, now looked aged, dirty, and worn. Her black hair was stringy and streaked with gray; Bella’s hollow cheeks and cracked, colorless lips gave the impression of starvation. And her eyes. Dark gray and cunning in life, their cloudy stare saw nothing in death. Neville bent down for closer examination of his victim.
The face that had once tormented his dreams had nothing on him now.
A cry for help interrupted Neville’s dark reverie. Looking up, he saw Ginny Weasley struggling with Walden Macnair. Macnair was considerably bigger and stronger than Ginny, and seemed to be using brute strength against her. Ginny, however, was resourceful. Making use of her smaller size and stature (and age), Ginny nimbly ducked and weaved around him. Her strategy couldn’t last forever though, and Macnair was slowly gaining the upper hand.
Neville answered her plea as Ginny let out another scream for help. He tried to fire a curse as he ran, but unfortunately, his aim had not improved much since the days of D.A. Pushing himself harder, Neville sped across the open field, past others fighting and dying.
Sadly, Neville was no less a klutz, for all his good intentions. The clear field on which the Order and the Death Eaters clashed was actually the top of a foothill. On one side, the hill sloped gently down, eventually merging with the highway and city. The other side gave away sharply, down into the forest valley. Several sub-battles had traveled into those thick woods, including Voldemort and Harry’s fight.
Neville was running dangerously close to the edge dropping into the forest. As he ran faster, his steps became more and more reckless. Finally, Neville took a wrong step and tumbled, head first, down the slope.
0o0o0o0o0o
Hermione stared at the tall, thin man. She was shocked. Behind her, Pansy’s screams had reduced to moans. In a moment, she would be on the attack. But Hermione ignored her. All her focus was on the man who had helped Pansy.
“Professor Dumbledore?” Hermione said finally.
Dumbledore nodded and stepped past her, toward Pansy. “You should not abuse your power over one weaker than yourself,” he said quietly. While Hermione watched, slightly shame-faced, Dumbledore conjured chains and bound Pansy. Then he made a beckoning motion. Hermione was confused, until another man Hermione hadn’t noticed before, an auror, stepped by her. He must have come with Dumbledore, Hermione realized.
The two conversed for a moment. Then the auror nodded, grabbed Pansy and disapparated, presumably to a prison. Only after this transaction did Dumbledore turn back to Hermione.
“I brought the aurors to assist in capturing the Death Eaters,” he said. “We should take as many alive as possible- justice will be better served that way.” Hermione nodded.
“I’m sorry, Professor,” she said humbly, feeling properly chastened. Dumbledore smiled kindly.
“Do not apologize. Worse atrocities have happened in the heat of battle. That is the nature of war. And, Hermione,” Dumbledore added, his smile widening, “Please, call me Albus. You aren’t a student anymore.”
Hermione blushed slightly, but nodded. “Yes, sir- oh-”
Dumbledore chuckled. “That’s better, at least. Come. Let’s help the others.”
0o0o0o0o0o
Neville landed with an “oof!” into a bush, inches from a thick tree trunk. Neville gave brief thanks that his head had landed in the soft(ish) grass and not halfway through a tree. He looked back up the steep hill and inwardly groaned. It was a long was back.
But just standing up proved the harder task at hand. The braches clung to his clothes, dragging him back down. After one particularly spectacular failure to escape, Neville remained still to gather his wits. It was then that he heard the voices. By turning carefully and peering through the leaves, Neville saw a startling scene. He gasped.
Harry was flat on his back, a wand pointed at his chest. The man standing over Harry had his back to Neville, but Neville knew him anyway. You-Know-Who. And now their voices floated over to Neville.
“You’re bluffing,” You-Know-Who was saying. “If that was true, you wouldn’t fight me. Your pathetic ‘friends’ wouldn’t allow it.”
“Who says they know?” Harry said calmly.
You-Know-Who glared at him a moment. “You’re bluffing,” he repeated. “You’re just trying to buy time. It won’t work.”
“Fine then,” Harry snapped. “If I’m lying, kill me then.”
Neville made a convulsive movement, half planning to run in and stop him. But You-Know-Who didn’t move. In the silence, Neville tried to form a plan, a way to get help, to save Harry- but he drew a blank. And in his heart, Neville knew this was how it was supposed to be. This was between Harry and the Dark Lord only. Outside forces could have no influence here.
Harry grew impatient. “Kill me!” he shouted again. Voldemort still made no move.
“KILL ME!!”
But Voldemort was weighing his chances. It seemed Harry’s words had more effect on him than Harry had planned. Harry sighed, exasperated.
“Just-” Harry suddenly hooked his foot around Voldemort’s ankle, and in one deft move, flipped Voldemort on his back. At the same time he snatched a wand from Voldemort’s hand. “-kill me.”
Voldemort stared at the wand, now pointed at his own chest. He moved his gaze into Harry’s eyes and saw the final truth of Harry’s words. He began to laugh quietly- a bitter, mad, chilling sound.
“You won’t do it,” he said coolly. “You fear Death as much as I do.”
“What makes you say that,” Harry asked in a low voice.
“Death is defeat, Potter. It’s losing. And I know you hate to lose. But Death is leaving everything behind everything you know…everything you love. It’s letting go and falling into that last, unknown void.”
Harry stared at him for a long moment. “But you know what I love more than I fear Death?” he said finally.
“What’s that,” Voldemort said through clenched teeth.
“Playing the martyr.” Harry whispered, raising his wand. “Avada Kedavra!”
“NO!!” Voldemort yelled, bringing his wand up to protect himself. But the green light sped through the wand, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Harry heard Death swoop in on his powerful wings, accompanied by his green aura. And as Death took Tom Marvolo Riddle to receive eternal justice by whatever judge there may be, Harry dropped to his knees, suddenly very weak.
A/N:: Well, here it is. Finally! I’m sorry a million times over this took so long. To all my reviewers, I love ya’ll, you guys are the best. There is one more chapter and an epilogue, both will be out within a week of this being posted. Promise. Actually, this story has been ready since June 15, (last Wednesday). But it’s been rejected twice over the most nit-picking things, and I’m still having trouble staying logged in. So it’s just now finally being posted.Sigh. Anyways, thanks for R&R!