The Order of the Phoenix moved in numbers that they hadn’t deployed since Voldemort invaded the Department of Mysteries.
No, they moved in even greater force than then. Albus Dumbledore himself led the group, with all of his most trusted and reliable followers at his back: Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Daedalus Diggle, Marlene McKinnon, Remus Lupin, even Severus Snape. While Snape’s use as a spy would be at its end after this, there would be no war if they lost Harry today… And by “losing” Harry, Dumbledore meant either seeing him fall to Voldemort, or allowing him to sink deeper into the Ministry’s grasp.
Malfoy Manor had wards that were supposed to be almost unassailable. With his skills, Dumbledore could get through them. It was merely a challenge.
Imagine his surprise when, as they arrived, Dumbledore discovered that the wards were already significantly weakened.
The arriving Order of the Phoenix members weren’t the only ones who had noticed this defensive chink. The expansive Malfoy Manor lawns, hemmed in by huge hedges, were crawling with Death Eaters. As the order burned through a section of hedge to enter (Alastor Moody taking point and spewing the necessary flames from his wand) they immediately came face to face with their enemies.
Dumbledore was wise enough to know that something was wrong here. A trap? Certainly, if they had Harry, that would act as sufficient bait, either to capture him or (in theory) to capture ministry officials… But Dumbledore doubted Scrimgeour had the courage to face Voldemort directly.
Only Dumbledore could do that. He was the only one who could save Britain. It had to be him, or else all was doomed.
Still, this… It didn’t feel like a trap. In the first place, Voldemort was too crafty to make one of his traps so obvious. He would have left the wards intact and made Dumbledore work to bring them down, so that Dumbledore wouldn’t catch a whiff of what he had prepared.
Order members and death eaters faced each other, neither of them moving right away. There were more dark wizards present, however the order always had an edge when it came to the quality of their magic and skill. Dumbledore believed they could break through.
“Avada Kedavra!” said a whiny voice.
Displaying incredible range, a perfectly cast killing curse hurtled at Dumbledore with unerring aim. Dumbledore had to enchant life into one of the many garden statues the Malfoy’s owned, causing a stone hippogriff to leap into the path of the curse. From the beak to the back of its neck, the statue’s head was blown into smithereens.
Voldemort himself walked out the front entrance of Malfoy Manor, giving Dumbledore a cold look with his pitiless eyes.
“I should have known your fingers would be deep in this, you foul old man!” Voldemort said. “You should have died a long time ago, Albus Dumbledore. Don’t fear. I’ll help you on your way!”
Like they had at the ministry a year ago, Dumbledore and Voldemort began to duel. Meanwhile, their followers scrambled to engage each other. Spells hurtled everywhere. Deep inside, Dumbledore academically noted that this was turning into the largest magical battle within Britain’s borders since the first wizarding war.
He didn’t have time to focus on all of the moving parts. Voldemort strided forward, unleashing his horrible dark magics, and Dumbledore jumped to engage him, employing all of his power and many years of experience.
“Your arrogance knows no bounds!” Voldemort hissed amidst the magical maelstrom. “Assaulting my very seat of power? Taking from me my dearest companion, leaving her body to rot… Your brashness will be your death, Dumbledore!”
Dumbledore didn’t respond to his taunts. Internally, Albus acknowledged that everything was wrong. Had Harry somehow escaped? Molly told him what to expect so clearly, with so much passion… How had the situation turned into something like this?
It was a miracle they hadn’t taken casualties yet. Dumbledore had done well, bringing his most trusted order members along. Kingsley and Alastor Moody had both seamlessly adopted military command roles. They were keeping the order members back, behind cover, a cautious approach that had prevented any casualties so far.
The thought never crossed his mind that they knew what they were walking into before they arrived, or that they were taking this approach in order to stretch the battle out, minimizing casualties until the cavalry arrived.
And the cavalry DID arrive.
“SPARE NO ONE IN BLACK!”
Dumbledore flinched as the voice of Scrimgeour himself thundered across the impromptu battlefield. Spinning, he saw the man standing roughly a hundred meters beyond the hedge, surrounded by a tide of red robes.
The entire auror department rushed forward, backing up the Order, absolutely crushing the death eaters who were present beneath a brutal tide.
Dumbledore actually thought that Scrimgeour had come to save Harry too, until he saw something that made him bristle.
Harry Potter was standing next to Rufus Scrimgeour.
Not only that, he was accompanied by women. Narcissa Malfoy was wrapped up in an overly large coat, ignoring the entire battle in order to look devotedly at the back of Harry’s head. On the other side of Harry, there stood Molly Weasley. She was looking at Harry in a similar way, biting her lip and looking excited about things to come.
Voldemort and Dumbledore both saw this in the midst of their duel, realizing at the same time that they had both had loyal servants poached away. But there was nothing they could do now. If they turned away from their duel, they would end up dead, slain by the spells of the other one. Their hands were tied by each other, neither one of them taking the risk that the other would agree to stop the duel. After all, even in a situation that had been orchestrated by a third party, Voldemort would gain an immense amount from Dumbledore’s death, and Dumbledore the same if he could kill his old errant student.
Harry watched this happen with a big and satisfied smile.
“Look at those monsters go,” Scrimgeour said, gazing at what looked like a firework on the ground, Voldemort and Dumbledore caught in a haze of bangs and flashing lights.
Don’t let anyone ever say they’re poor wizards,” Harry said. “Whatever faults their personalities might have.”
He took his wand out, beginning to stride forward.
Scrimgeour called out after him: “Make sure you don’t die! This is entirely too good of a day to be spoiled like that!”
“Don’t worry,” Harry told the minister. “I can handle myself quite well.”
Angelina, Tonks, and Neville all joined him, backing him up. He proved his words to Scrimgeour hadn’t just been boasting by immediately making a difference in the battle. Harry’s heavy spells made the most of his magical might, breaking the shields of two death eaters to land killing blows before detonating a fountain that four more dark wizards were using as cover, sending bits of stone hurtling into the air and scattering them to the mercy of other aurors’ spells.
Moody ended up close to Harry, the two of them doling out spells together.
“Right on time, lad!” Moody said. “Bust a few heads!”
“I think I already have,” Harry said, ducking sideways to put distance between himself and a misaimed killing curse.
“Then bust a few more!” Moody said. “Down to the last man!”
He was the happiest that Harry had ever seen him, clomping around on his peg leg and unloading salvos of curses even Harry didn’t recognize. Moody’s spell choices seemed more similar to the dark wizards they were fighting against than most of the Order members. He wasn’t picky about what tools he used to stop evil.
Everything was going perfectly until Neville cried out in pain.
A spell had gotten his hand, covering it in some kind of acid. The wound looked bad and the pain must have been worse. Immediately, Harry issued an order.
“Get him out of here!”
Angelina pulled Neville away while Harry and Tonks provided cover. The battle was turning everywhere except for Voldemort and Dumbledore’s duel, which was still in a complete stalemate. Some death eaters were trying to flee, while other ones were fighting harder than ever, throwing all that they had into taking one more auror or order member with them.
Harry saw the curse before Tonks did. He bellowed her name and snapped his wand to the side. The wordless spell was closer to accidental magic than a real spell. Tonks jerked, her body falling to the ground like a crash doll. The curse missed her, striking a hedge instead, which was promptly engulfed by foul smelling blue fire.
Although Tonks had been spared from that killer curse, the landing from Harry’s magic had given her a concussion. She was dazed, so Harry stepped forward to protect her.
That was when he saw who was attacking them.
The curse that hit Neville and the one that nearly killed Tonks both came from one wizard.
Severus Snape.
It took a moment of quick calculations for Harry to even figure out WHY Snape was attacking them. While an asshole, he was a pragmatic one. He worked for Dumbledore for years, even if he hedged his bets with both sides. Snape wasn’t stupid. Right now, one look around could tell him who was going to win the war. Even though Voldemort was still fighting, he would soon be overwhelmed when others joined the fight alongside Dumbledore. He should have been routing death eaters along with the other attackers.
But he didn’t have the luxury of making that choice. He was still under the effects of the oath that he swore over Draco. As long as Harry was in his sight, Snape had to kill him. This was the best chance Snape would get; he could deal with the fallout once he was free of his oath. Most likely, he would run away overseas, go into hiding like Sirius had…
None of that mattered, because Harry had no plans on dying to this greasy double agent.
Harry went toward Snape, who was prowling toward him, with spells exploding from their wands.
In Hogwarts, Snape obliterated him. He tore apart Harry’s best efforts like they were completely meaningless; like Harry was a mere first year holding a wand for the first time.
That wasn’t so long ago. However, Harry had put in an incredible amount of work. He always had the natural talent, now he had honed it, with dutiful training and private tutoring.
This time, his best efforts CLEARLY had meaning.
Snape started to sweat. He began bringing out darker spells, using the Cruciatus and even the killing curse. Harry fought on the move, running and ducking and weaving. He used a half broken statue as a shield, leaned around the side, and used a blasting curse.
It hit the ground near Snape, creating an effect like a landmine. Soil went soaring into the air and the concussive force threw Snape off his feat.
The potions professor was no middling wizard. He was powerful himself, with more skill accrued over years. But he’d gotten lazy. Harry was faster and had trained exclusively to defend himself and hurt those who tried to hurt him. His spells battered Snape’s shields and chipped away at the man, cutting his lip and breaking three of the fingers on his left hand. In return, Snape only managed to leave a gash on Harry's shoulder, which didn’t stop Harry from fighting.
Harry was winning and they both knew it. Snape’s skills weren’t enough… So he fell back on a different kind of strategy.
Harry hadn’t been able to evacuate Tonks. She was sitting up, dazed.
Snape aimed at her and said: “Avada Kedavra!”
“SEVERUS SNAPE!” Harry roared.
He slashed his wand and relied on transfiguration, the discipline of his own head of house, who was in many ways Snape’s opposite within Hogwarts.
The turf of the Malfoy Manor lawn tore up in front of Tonks. It changed from grass and dirt into metal—iron—and flowed like a tsunami. It took the brunt of Snape’s spell like it meant nothing, then collapsed on the professor. The entire wave shape turned flat and smashed into the ground, flattening on top of Snape.
Nothing could be seen of the man after the impact… But his fate was all too clear. His wand had bounced out onto the dirt, and soon a trail of blood leaked out from under the metal.
Harry took a deep breath. It was over.
Not just he and Snape’s feud; the entire battle was over.
No, the WAR was over.
The death eaters who were left alive (which wasn’t many, out of those who’d been present) were fleeing past the bodies of their dead compatriots. About half of the ones who were alive couldn’t even do that. They’d lost limbs or been otherwise crippled and incapacitated.
That state even extended to their leader.
As more death eaters were put down, either sent to the grave or simply removed from the battle, many of the strongest combatants from the ministry’s side had been freed to join in. Kingsley, Moody, and Lupin had all joined in with Dumbledore, surrounding Voldemort. The dark lord had already been struggling. With three more powerful wizards ganging up with him, he was soon struck with a fatal blow.
Not that he died immediately. Voldemort sank to his knees, spitting up a mouthful of blood. One of Dumbledore’s spells had disabled his arm, which was hanging limp next to his body, which had left him open to one of Moody’s spells.
Harry wasn’t sure what the paranoid old auror had used, only that once it hit the dark lord, Voldemort’s insides had clearly been mangled.
“Fools,” Voldemort hissed. “Do you think this is the end?”
Scrimgeour came forward, judging that it was safe for him to do so now. He was no slouch with a wand in the first place, so if a death eater took a shot at him on their way out, he had confidence he could handle it.
“It looks like the end to me,” Scrimgeour said. “You’ve seen better days, Voldemort.”
Some of the people nearby flinched when they heard the name. Gradually, they came to realize why Scrimgeour felt free to use it.
Why should anyone fear a taboo, when the “boogeyman” that would come for you was already on his knees spitting blood?
“Do not be too hasty, Rufus,” Dumbledore said. “He’s beaten death once.”
“Yes,” Scrimgeour said. “Thanks to his little toys.”
Scrimgeour turned to Harry, who had approached them and the felled dark lord. The two traded a look. Harry said, “Aberforth!”
Albus’s brother appeared from elsewhere carrying a sack. His robes showed that he’d taken part in the fighting, just against different opponents than the dark lord.
Aberforth turned over the sack in his hands, sending a large and leathery shape thumping onto the ground.
Two people flinched: Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore.
The object was none other than Nagini’s severed head. The same one that Narcissa brought to Harry as an offering.
“Do you think I only prepared this much?” Voldemort asked. “I—”
“We destroyed all of them,” Harry said.
His nemesis locked onto him as soon as he spoke. The man who plagued Harry’s life at every turn tried to glare at him, except the only thing he could convey was his fear.
“All of them…?” Dumbledore asked. He was so surprised that he forgot to hide the name of Voldemort’s immortality mechanism, so as to keep the knowledge hidden. “You not only discovered, but eliminated, all of his horcruxes?”
“I told the public I was going to win this war,” Scrimgeour said. “Whatever effort it took.”
Spurred on by the disbelief in Albus’ voice, Harry couldn’t resist getting a quick jab in at the man. After the way their relationship had turned out, Harry thought he earned the chance to be a bit of a sore winner after tricking the man and getting everything he wanted.
“Surprised that a little boy managed what you couldn’t—”
Harry froze halfway through the taunt.
He had turned directly into the tip of a wand.
“Avada Kedavra,” said the headmaster.
Point blank, Harry was struck by the curse.
LINE BREAK
Harry grunted.
He sat up, feeling a lot like the one time that his girls had kept him up for two straight nights without a wink of sleep. His head ached and his vision felt a little fuzzy. Why was everything so white?
Well, that wasn’t quite right. In addition to the white, there was one big black shape. Harry got up and stumbled over to it. The closer he got, the sicker to his stomach he started to feel.
When his eyes picked out the details, he almost threw up.
It looked like a fat, malformed baby… That was as tall as a man. Its umbilical cord stuck out and wrapped around its limbs and waist in odd directions. It couldn’t even pass for human outside of its huge size. It had pasty white skin and razor sharp teeth. When Harry got near it, the baby started crying, making him wince.
“What the fuck is that?” Harry said.
“Language,” someone said.
It was a woman’s voice. He had no memories of it, and yet, it felt intimately familiar, like listening to Hermione saying something. Harry was torn between two opposite urges: to whip around as fast as he could, or to keep his back turned.
“I guess I am dead,” Harry chuckled, his voice wobbling.
“Not necessarily,” said a man, this voice making Harry’s mixed feelings double.
Finally, he made himself turn around slowly; there they were.
James and Lily Potter looked older than when they died. They were different from how they ever actually looked; they looked like they would now, if they never met an early death. Seeing them middle aged made Harry’s heart ache like crazy.
His knees were getting weak. The two of them came forward, touching his hands in a way that just felt natural, and pulled him away from the baby thing.
When they moved him away, the furnishings of a living room sprung into existence amongst the white. Harry recognized some of the pieces from photographs that Remus had shown him. These were chairs and tables that his parents had actually owned, back when they were alive.
They sat on a couch, placing an arm over each other’s shoulders, just watching Harry, who had been placed in a recliner. Harry realized they were waiting for him to speak.
“What do you mean, I’m not necessarily dead?” Harry asked.
James and Lily looked at each other.
“Let’s start with something else first,” James said. “It will make more sense if we start from the beginning.”
“Which is?”
“The night that we died and you lived,” Lily said.
Harry couldn’t help glancing at the monstrosity behind them again. Something about it was pulling on his attention, making it hard to focus even though his parents (or a hallucination of them, but he would take that) were right in front of him.
“Are you real?” Harry asked.
“I think so!” James said. “But doesn’t everybody?”
“We’re real enough,” Lily said. “Ask what you want to know.”
“Then explain what you meant before,” Harry said. “Explain what’s going on, starting as far back as you need to. Just… Help it make sense.”
“Voldemort came across a very powerful and extremely evil ritual when he was young,” Lily said. “He learned how to split his soul using the power of a truly evil act. By killing an innocent, he made anchors in the world that would help him escape death.”
“I know that. We hunted them down,” Harry said.
“And you did a damn good job,” James said. “Better than anyone else could have.”
“Keep in mind what a horcrux is, Harry,” Lily said. “Now, think of what you’ve heard about the night Voldemort failed to kill you. James died downstairs—”
“I didn’t have my wand. Otherwise, we’d have had one less dark lord,” James grumbled.
“But I made it to your room,” Lily said. “There were two kinds of powerful, ancient magic at work in that room. I pleaded for your life to no avail. Voldemort killed me, before turning his wand onto you. The lover I held for you protected you, powered by the sacrifice of my life; a sacrifice made in the spirit of love.”
“And at the same time, there had also been an evil killing,” James said, his voice dark and serious for once.
“My death sparked the same ritual that Voldemort had used many times before,” Lily said. “The killing was done, allowing him to split his soul. There was only one object in the room with him—”
“Me,” Harry said. “ME! I’m a horcrux!”
He spun around, looking at the grotesque baby again. He could see certain similarities between it and the wraith that Voldemort had been resurrected as. He felt an intense revulsion, like a worm had dug deep into his brain and taken root.
“Yes, Harry,” Lily said gently. “You were Voldemort’s last horcrux. Not even he knew the truth.”
“The only one who did was Dumbledore,” James said.
“So he killed me.” Dumbledore’s shocking choice was starting to make a little bit of sense… Which didn’t mean Harry wasn’t angry. “Voldemort was dead. We’d beaten him. He didn’t have to do that!”
“I suppose you represented a possibility that someone might be able to resurrect Voldemort. He might even fear that the horcrux could somehow take you over in the future,” Lily said.
“And he’s a fucking git,” James said.
“Yes,” Lily said. “He’s made choices—oh SO many choices—since our deaths that have been… Less than stellar.”
“She means that she wanted to string him up by his feet and leave him to starve. You know, if she’d still been alive,” James said. “And if I was alive, I’d have helped her!”
“The important question,” Lily said, “is whether YOU want to be alive, Harry.”
“I was hit by the killing curse,” Harry said.
“That never stopped you before,” James said. “Why should it stop you now?”
“What he means is that within your body, there are two lives, Harry,” Lily said. “Yours… And that one.”
She pointed at the grotesque baby thing.
“The curse will only kill one,” Harry said. “But doesn’t that mean, if it kills me, then that thing will take over my body?”
“We don’t know,” Lily admitted.
That was frightening to hear… Although in the end, it didn’t matter.
There was no choice here.
“I’m going back,” Harry said.
Even though he was resolving not to follow them, his parents both smiled and looked pleased.
In fact, James had an almost dangerous smile…
“You can’t leave our grandkids alone, can you?” he said.
“Ah,” Harry said, because that WAS what he was thinking, but hearing it from his father…
“I had some fun myself, back in the day!” James said. “Molly must have shared some of that. I never could have kept up with you, though.” Spirits could apparently cry, because James developed a tear that he wiped away. “I’m proud. SO proud…”
Lily stomped on his foot, giving him a pointed look.
“What your father means,” Lily said, “is that we’re glad you have so many people who love you. We’re just happy that you aren’t alone. I’m proud of the man you’ve become.”
James snickered. “Yeah, that. I think Molly and Narcissa are happy about the man he’s become too. I guess they couldn’t go without that good Potter di—”
Lily stomped his foot again, harder this time.
“How do I go back?” Harry asked.
It seemed like the longer he lingered, talking with them like this, the harder that moving on was going to become. He wanted to get back quickly.
Smiling, his parents held their arms out, inviting him closer. Harry got up and came over.
He stepped into their embrace, sharing this hug. In the background, the shard of Voldemort’s soul cried louder than ever, then went totally silent.
Harry opened his eyes and found that everything was dark.
It didn’t take long to realize that was because he was buried. On top of him there were at least five people, all of them crying.
He started struggling to sit up. “Air.”
They all sprung apart, many of them making exclamations. Harry raised himself to a sitting position, seeing who had been on top of him. Tonks, Angelina, Narcissa, Molly… All of his girls who had been present.
Harry’s eyes were drawn to a colorful burst of spellfire. Similar to how Voldemort had gone down, an exhausted Albus Dumbledore was being torn down by the combined efforts of everyone who helped him fight the dark lord, with Scrimgeour joining in as well. Remus howled like a wolf as he fought with eyes full of tears. Meanwhile, Moody was using deadly spells against his longtime ally, enraged by what he’d seen.
“It was for the good of everyone!” Albus shouted. “You don’t understand! Allow me to explain—”
“THERE’S NO EXPLANATION FOR KILLING MY STUDENT!” Aberforth bellowed.
Albus’ brother went on the offensive, his wand spitting out a barrage of spells. With Albus exhausted and outnumbered, his superior skills weren’t enough to hold his brother at bay.
One of Aberforth’s spells got through and sent Albus careening off of his feet. He lost his hold on his wand. Albus Dumbledore hit the ground, where he was quickly swarmed and cuffed by the aurors who’d seen what he did.
Only when the duel finished did people start to notice that Harry was up and standing.
An improbable silence gripped everyone as they realized Harry had survived the killing curse not once, but twice… And from the two most powerful wizards of the last hundred years.
“Your student, huh?” Harry shouted to Aberforth.
“You little rascal!” Aberforth bellowed. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to wipe away or hide the tears that were flowing. “Of course you wouldn’t die, you little freak! You didn’t hear nothing!”
Harry was swarmed by person after person. Remus, Scrimgeour, Ava Savage… Alastor Moody even hugged him.
When the people finally thinned out a little bit, Harry took a chance to stand over Voldemort’s corpse.
Looking at his old enemy now laying dead… Permanently dead this time…
It was hard to process. After living an entire life centered around this man, Harry was now free. The death eaters were scattered and had lost the war. Those who hadn’t been present here were leaderless and would be hunted down and defeated. Dumbledore had even been arrested for killing Harry, removing the man who he’d once thought of as his mentor and who he gradually recognized as a manipulator.
For the first time in his whole entire life, Harry was free from his destiny. He’d triumphed.
Which raised the question, what would he do now?
“Harry!” he heard someone yell.
Non combatants were finally being allowed in. Hermione had appeared, along with the Patils, Pansy, and Daphne… All of his girls were here. Ginny was over with her mom. Luna was giving Harry one of her dreamy smiles. Fleur and Apolline had both come to see the climactic results, with Apolline holding a hand on her stomach, where Harry’s child was growing.
Who was he kidding? He knew exactly what he was going to do.
Harry walked toward his girls, who mobbed him, everyone laughing.
He had his whole life ahead of him, and he knew who he was going to be spending it with.
Somewhere, his parents were looking on, proud.
Especially James.
“C’mon!” Harry said, addressing all his girls at once. “Let’s go home.”