A Promise Kept - Chapter 79 - Retribution

Retribution

The very second she felt the disturbance from somewhere above her, Lily knew that Harry’s efforts to remain hidden had ultimately been unsuccessful, but nothing could’ve prepared her for the scene she would come upon as she took her leave of the office belonging to Pomona Sprout.

Immediately, she found herself in a veritable sea of Death Eaters that had been lurking within the walls, and she pushed her way through them towards the sound of the commotion, checking her watch to see how long she had before she would need another sip of the potion.

Ten minutes, which meant she could remain undetected.

Even so, it felt as odd as it did wrong to find herself where she was, but she pressed on until she saw the sizeable whole on the ground of the seventh floor, and flashes of spellfire illuminating the grounds below as she peered out of the window.

Lily could only imagine the expression she was sporting as she watched Harry fighting off the largest creature, let alone snake she had ever seen.

Just above her, and to the right was the Dark Lord looming over him atop the Astronomy Tower, with several others, they too taking in what was unfolding before them.

She wanted to help her son, wanted to protect him from the monster he was confronting, but from her vantage point, there was little she could do, especially without drawing attention to herself.

“Whatever happens, you must remain undetected until help arrives if things go wrong.”

He had been firm with his words, and yet, he’d not mentioned facing off with monstrous creatures whilst Voldemort looked on with a feral grin, urging his serpent to slaughter her son.

That, however, did not come to pass, and Lily could only breathe a sigh of relief as the snake thudded to the ground from the combined efforts of Harry and the griffins, whom she had no idea were here.

Harry had not mentioned them, at least.

Still, he was not out of trouble yet, and as some of the Death Eaters within the castle began to spill onto the grounds below, a rather unexpected lull in the fighting occurred, though Lily did not doubt what would come next.

She only hoped the others would arrive before the inevitable violence erupted. Nonetheless, she was ready and had been preparing for this eventuality for more than a decade and a half, just not quite such a set of circumstances.

Even so, she would play her part in doing all she could to keep her son safe, for what good it would do.

Lily did not doubt that Harry and Voldemort would cross wands this night, just as Fate had decreed, and though she was not quite ready for it, she knew she never would be.

No, what mattered was that she was here to do all she could to see the success of her boy, and there was nothing she wouldn’t do to that end.

(Break)

“The other portrait is in the Gryffindor common room,” Aberforth informed as Amelia continued to usher the Aurors through the one located in The Hog’s Head.

“And the students?” she asked worriedly.

“I’ve had the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws through here. Thy have been sent on to the Weasleys.

“No Slytherins?”

Aberforth shook his head, and Amelia released a laboured breath.

That meant that there were still students within the castle, though it was uncertain which side they would take. For the sake of her and the Aurors, they would need to be negated at best and treated as hostile at worst.

There were many of them with mothers and fathers who followed the Dark Lord, undoubtedly more so than any other house.

When the last of the Aurors had passed through the portrait, she followed suit, finding the Gryffindor common room to be quite the tight squeeze for them.

Having been a Hufflepuff, she’d never been in here before, but now was not the time to lament on such.

“Listen up,” she called. “We do not know exactly what we will be facing, but Potter has managed to evacuate the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws out of the castle, so we must assume that all others within, unless we know for certain, are hostile. From what I have been told, the members of staff are currently locked in the basement, yes, what is it, Robards?”

“It’s quiet,” the man replied.

Amelia frowned as she too realised she could hear little.

“I do not expect that will be the case for long,” she murmured. “Now, stay in your groups, stay as safe as you can, and send up red sparks if you need assistance. Let’s go.”

She led them towards the only exit, her wand poised and ready, and as she exited via the portrait hole, her eyes widened at the sight of the destruction already having been wrought.

What had caused it, she didn’t know, but the castle was not as silent as they’d first thought.

Although it was far from being what she would call a battle scene, she could hear dozens upon dozens of voices carrying up to them, and as she rounded the first corner on the seventh floor, Amelia Bones knew whatever peace reigned here had come to an end.

“AURORS!” a masked figure among tens of others roared, and she immediately found herself on the defensive, with dozens of her colleagues at her back.

(Break)

“You must see that you coup has failed, Harry,” Voldemort spoke, his voice carrying from the Astronomy to where Hary was glaring at him. “Dear, dear, you have put yourself in quite the predicament. I admit, I am impressed that you managed to dispose of the basilisk, but you do not wish for your son or daughter to be raised the same way you were, do you?”

Harry’s jaw clenched, and it took all of his self-control not to strike out at the man.

Riddle may believe he had the upper hand, and perhaps he did in some ways, but Harry had not even begun to play his yet.

Still, it was troubling that he knew of the baby.

Harry certainly hadn’t told him, and nor would anyone else entrusted with the information. No, there was only one place it could’ve come from, and Harry would settle the score with the Winthrops later.

Firstly, however, he needed to handle the situation he currently found himself in, as unfavourable as it was.

Above him was the grinning Dark Lord, undoubtedly surrounded by his followers, and ahead of Harry, were several Death Eaters, waiting for their instructions.

Before Harry could make a decision, however, it was made for him, and as the declaration rang out that the Aurors had indeed arrived within the castle, he summoned his blade before pointing his wand in the direction of the Astronomy Tower.

The blasting curse erupted from the tip of his wand, and chunks of stone and mortar were torn away from the castle, along with several Death Eaters who’d been unable to defend themselves.

Much to his chagrin, Riddle was not among them, and Harry quickly had more of his followers to contend with.

“Aurelius!” he called.

His ever-loyal griffin galloped towards him, and Harry quickly climbed atop before urging his mount on in the direction of the gathered Death Eaters.

With his blade in one hand, and Aurelius and the rest of the herd to help him, he began hacking through the ranks, holding tightly to the rampaging griffin whilst drawing his wand to send a few much-needed messages.

Although the Aurors had indeed arrived, they were likely outnumbered, but that was nothing new for Harry.

He had spent his life fighting against the odds, and tonight, he was determined to put an end to this particular chapter of his life once and for all.

With that in mind, he switched to using his wand to rid himself of more of the Death Eaters, aware of the fighting taking place within the castle itself.

(Break)

Having been at the Ministry of Magic, Sirius as the last to arrive at The Hog’s Head, and he wasted no time in finding the waiting Aberforth Dumbledore, only to pause as a familiar falcon appeared in front of them.

“The last I saw, Snape was in the dungeons disguised as Slughorn. I need you to free the professors, who are also in the dungeons in the adjoining corridor of Slughorn’s office. Kingsley will join you. He may still look like Filius.”

“Snape,” Sirius whispered dangerously, offering Aberforth a nod before stepping through the portrait.

“I’ll come with you,” the younger Dumbledore declared as he joined him. “I’ll do Albus the last favour of freeing his damned staff. Come on, lad, there’s not waste any time.”

He led the way, and Sirius trailed behind, grimacing as he dispensed of a trio of Death Eaters who wandered into their path with only a few waves of his wand.

“No time to gawp, Black,” Aberforth grumbled.

Sirius could only nod as he continued to follow the man, taken aback by how easily he navigated his way through the many pockets of fighting that seemed to be taking place all over the castle.

(Break)

The chaos had erupted in a matter of seconds.

Lily had watched as a large part of the Astronomy Tower had been blown up and had been swept up in a group of Death Eaters as they fled, only for them to run into the waiting Aurors. From there, countless fight broke out, and spread throughout the castle like a wildfire, and it felt as though the entirety of Hogwarts was shaking from spellfire being exchanged.

Screams of agony filled the halls, the smell of burning her nostrils, and she found herself fighting for her life.

She wasn’t certain when the Polyjuice Potion had worn off, but she was being target by any masked figures that caught sight of her, and much to her relief, she had managed to find herself amongst a group of Aurors, who appreciated her efforts.

Ducking beneath a killing curse sent towards her, she responded with a flurry of charms, resulting in her attacker being slammed into the wall before he was hurled into a group if Death Eaters.

They stumbled, and Lily took advantage of their inability to defend themselves, casting another plethora of spells.

“DOWN!” she shouted, pulling one of the Aurors to the ground with her.

The explosion that followed saw limbs being strewn about the corridor, and half of it collapsed on top of those that may have managed to survive it. They wouldn’t now, and though it had granted them something of a reprieve, it would not last, and Lily charged on with the rest of the red-robed men and women following her.

“PROTECT THE MINISTER’S MOTHER!” one of them roared.

She shook her head.

She didn’t need their protection, just their help to reach the lower levels of the school where her son was fighting, something that was only becoming increasingly more difficult by the sheer amount of people fighting in the hallways of the castle.

Once more, she found herself ducking another errant spell before she blocked another, her eyes widening as a purple bolt of lightning careened towards her.

Dolohov.

She remembered the effects of that spell on the unfortunate Caradoc Dearborn during the first war, and how he’d suffered in the hours leading to his death.

The Healers had been unable to do anything for him, and she too almost fell victim to it.

With her grip tightening around her wand, she banished some debris towards the man to distract him, so that she could douse the floor of the corridor with water.

Dolohov, however, did not remain idle, and his next offering of spells were as vicious as Lily would expect from the man. Shielding the first two, she diverted the next towards a group of Death Eaters who’d managed to pin down a pair of Aurors, and summoned some more debris to block the fourth, again, banishing the resulting rubble towards Dolohov.

For good measure, she unleashed another geyser of water, and a myriad of spells of her own for the man to contend with. Of course, he did so quite admirably, grinning as he stalked towards her, confident he’d gotten a measure of the redhead.

Again, he fired his favoured curse towards her, and Lily managed to avoid it by stepping to the side as she offered her rebuttal.

Dolohov stiffened, his eyes widening as he looked down to see the thick rod of ice protruding through his stomach.

It was a trick that James had taught her, but this was the first time she’d used it in a fight, and to ensure Antonin Dolohov did not find a way to survive, she fired one last spell towards him.

He collapsed forward, his torso and legs sliding morbidly down the length of the ice, but his face was no longer recognisable from where it had been torn away from his head.

If he wasn’t already dead, Dolohov would be in only a matter of moments, and Lily shifted her attention back to finding her son, cutting a path of ahead of her through a group of Death Eaters that would prevent her doing so.

(Break)

“You are all to remain within the common room! You will not be safe out there!”

For good measure, he sealed the door closed behind him as he left, entering the office that had once belonged to him, but was now once again occupied by Horace Slughorn.

Severus had known this day would come.

The tit-for-tat back and forth between Potter and the Dark Lord could not continue in perpetuity. Although he’d not heard the full prophecy the night he’d been spying on Dumbledore all those years ago, he was aware that it existed between the two.

Were it not for the magic in the air as Trelawney had spoken her words, or that Albus had believed so wholeheartedly in them, perhaps Severus would not put any stock in it, but given what had happened to the Dark Lord when he’d acted upon the information, he could not dismiss it.

Now, it seemed that the prophecy would finally be fulfilled, and judging by all that had happened thus far, there was a part of Severus that believed that it would indeed be Potter to do so in his favour, and the Dark Lord, as all others that had come before him, would ultimately fail to see his ambitions come to life.

Severus was not one to take to drink.

He preferred to keep his mind clear, but as he listened to the violence unfolding above him, he poured himself a generous measure of whiskey, courtesy of his former head of house.

Swirling it around the glass, he snorted to himself before draining it and pouring another.

Perhaps he should’ve joined the others the moment he knew what was transpiring in the castle, but Severus did not care for battle. In a duel, it was him and one other, a coming together of skill, wit, and strategy, but in an open battle, it counted for little, and it was easy to be killed by an errant spell.

No, he would rather wait here, certain in the knowledge that those who wished to seek him out would do so in their own time.

If he was so inclined, he could flee, but there was nowhere for him to go he cared for where he wouldn’t be found, and in truth, Severus was tired of running.

He had run away from home to attend Hogwarts to escape his father, and from Hogwarts, into the arms of the Dark Lord to escape the heartache that plagued him.

When the Dark Lord had fallen, he had hidden himself within Hogwarts, and when Albus had died, back to the Dark Lord.

Severus was exhausted and could not bring himself to repeat the pattern of poor habit. No, he would sooner die here as he was, somewhat on his own terms.

He shook his head as the sound of violence drew nearer, and he filled his glass once more for a final time, and eyed the contents before swallowing, just as the door to the office was blasted open.

He was not surprised to see that it was Black who arrived, and Severus could only grin triumphantly as he allowed the goblet to crash to the floor, his vision already slipping out of focus.

“Too late,” he murmured, only for the air to be torn from his lungs as he ripped from his seat.

“What did you, Snape?”

Severus chuckled and grimaced at the taste of blood filling his mouth.

In a final act of defiance, and as something of a victory of his childhood foe, he’d robbed the man of the vengeance he so sorely desired.

Severus did not know what Sirius Black would’ve done to him in his final moments of life, but it would undoubtedly have been a damned sight worse than the poison he’d administered to himself.

Still, it was not working as quickly as he hoped, and he did not miss the furious snarling of a rabid dog before he felt himself being savaged, the sharp teeth tearing into his throat as the powerful jaws crushed the bones in his neck.

(Break)

She grimaced as the room shuddered once more, and Minerva could not help but think of just how much damage was being done to the castle. Of course, if Potter was successful in ridding Hogwarts of the Dark Lord, it would be worth it, but never in all her years would she have imagined her career as an educator would come to this.

“Merlin, it’s only getting worse,” Filius commented as another explosion tore through the corridors above. “He must’ve found a way to get the Aurors in.”

Harry had never ceased to amaze her, and she knew that the diminutive Charms professor was of a similar mind. Both had worked extensively with him over the years, had a grasp on how talented he was with magic, so were not surprised he’d managed to find a way to take the fight to the Dark Lord and his followers.

If only she was not stuck in here.

Minerva would gladly do her part in helping the young man.

“It’s getting nearer,” Pomona whispered worriedly.

Understandably, she felt rather vulnerable, and Minerva could not deny she was in a similar position. In more years than she could care to count, she’d never been without her wand, and certainly not when she’d found herself in danger.

She grimaced once more as another scream sounded, and something skidded along the ground just outside the door, and did not move again.

Before she could ponder what it may have been, light flooded the room, and she squinted, her breath hitching in her chest at the sight of the familiar silhouette filling the doorframe.

“Albus?” she asked in disbelief.

She received a humourless chuckle in response.

“Not quite, lass,” a gruff voice responded as he went about the task of untying her. “Any idea where your wands are?”

“Severus has them,” Minerva huffed, her eyes widening as she realised it was Aberforth of all people who’d come to their aide.

The man hummed.

“Black?” he called. “Any wands in there?”

“What is happening?” Minera asked as she began helping the others with their bindings.

“It’s not good,” Aberforth grumbled. “Potter is on the grounds riding a bloody griffin. He somehow managed to kill a massive basilisk, and the Dark Lord is somewhere, probably trying to find a way to kill the lad.”

“A basilisk?” Minerva choked.

“Other than that, it’s damned madness,” Aberforth declared. “BLACK? Hell, what happened to you?”

Sirius was covered in blood, but it did not appear that any of it was his own.

“Just settling a score,” he murmured unhappily. “Here, wands.”

Minerva breathed a sigh of relief as she found her own among them, and along with the others, she left the room they’d been kept in for more than a week now, pausing briefly as she reached the office belonging to Horace.

“Goodness me,” she whispered at the sight of Severus Snape.

He had not died well, and yet, Sirius Black seemed to be wholly unsatisfied by his demise.

Still, the man had gotten no less than he’d deserved for his transgressions, and the sound of another explosion followed by a cacophony of screams served to remind her that there were many others within the castle that should be given no quarter.

“The students?” she whispered.

“Potter got them out, except for the Slytherins. They’ve been restricted to the common room,” Aberforth explained.

Minerva nodded, breathing a sigh of relief as she stalked towards the stairs leading into the rest of the school, where she could do her job in protecting from those who had invaded it.

(Break)

Despite the success the herd was having in reducing the number of Death Eaters Hary found himself facing, it quickly became too dangerous for them to continue their efforts, and though it had been with reluctance, Aurelius had eventually relented from his efforts to gouge out the stomach of every masked figure he came upon.

Instead, he now flew above the castle as Harry continued his efforts to re-enter the school, only to be set back time and time again as more of Riddle’s followers soiled into the grounds, in a bid to either flee, or where their own fights had naturally taken them.

As such, Harry was no longer the only target, and instead of fighting so ardently to break through the seemingly ever-replenishing wall of flesh and bone, he settled into something of a comfortable rhythm of defending himself and picking them off one by one.

It would not do to find himself grievously wounded pursuing a fight that was inevitable, after all.

No, Tom would come to him, or the two would happen upon one another during the festivities, and the longstanding rivalry would be settled.

Still, that did not mean he wasn’t in danger here, and the Death Eaters certainly were pulling no punches, ensuring he needed to remain sharp as he fought off a large gathering of them by himself.

Stepping out of the path of a rather unpleasant curse that would turn his stomach inside out, Harry retaliated with a flurry of his own, putting his attackers on the defensive.

Most erected shields, and he frowned as they did the same for the next offering.

With a shake of his head, he fired another, these spells not quite reaching the ranks of men and women but slamming into the ground in front of the entrance hall. Although he’d expected quite the volatile reaction from his selection, he’d underestimated it enough that he himself need to cast a shield to protect himself from the debris that spewed forth which had once been one of the castle doors.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed as he parried two other curses sent towards him, but both had been a desperate reaction at best from those who had not been impaled, had the backs torn open by the force of the blast, or at best, sent sprawling across the ground.

Still, much to his chagrin and the credit of the Death Eaters, they managed to regroup quickly, and their onslaught continued, but Harry’s efforts had not been rewarded, and he breathed something of a sigh of relief as he spotted Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick joining the fray, and to his undying relief, his mother , who was bleeding from a shallow wound to her head, and Sirius, considerably evening the odds for those fighting the Dark Lord’s forces outside the castle itself.

Nonetheless, his internal celebration was somewhat cut short.

“Dementors,” he huffed, feeling the unpleasant yet familiar cold creeping into every fibre of his being.

Before he could even consider shifting his focus towards them, both his mother and Filius had done so, just as the vile creatures swarmed from above, leaving Harry to dispatch a few more Death Eaters who were intent on slaughtering Professor McGonagall.

The woman offered him a nod of gratitude, only for her eyes to widen as an enormous hole was blasted through the side of the castle, and even more Death Eaters and Aurors were hurled onto the lawn of the castle.

Harry, however, was granted no such respite, and though he was pleased for the assistance he was finally receiving, the violence showed no sign of coming to an end, and once more, he threw himself into the fray to assist a group of Aurors who were quickly being overwhelmed, feeing for any shift to indicate that Riddle was nearing him.

(Break)

The fighting here was much more frantic and dangerous than it had been in the Ministry of Magic the night Harry had been lured to the Department of Mysteries, and it was not lost on Nymphadora how that night had ended for her.

Once more, she found herself locked in a duel with her wayward aren’t, and as ever, Bellatrix proved to be as ruthless and relentless as her reputation painted her to be.

Already, she killed more than dozen Aurors herself, had wounded several others, and Nymphadora was hard-pressed to even defend herself from the mad woman’s onslaught, let alone must any offence of her own.

It wasn’t just that Bellatrix was fast, or that her spell selection was impossible to predict from one to the next, it was that she fought with reckless abandon, uncaring what happened to her.

She made for an incredibly dangerous opponent, but Nymphadora would not shy away from the fight, even if she knew she was quite outmatched.

Her mother had warned her of just how out of touch with her sanity the woman was, how she’d spent many years under the tutelage of the Dark Lord, and how she’d honed her skills in countless battle with the Aurors during the first war.

Even after all her time in Azkaban, her aunt did not miss a beat with her defences, with how rapidly and precisely she cast spells, and how willing she was to delve in magic that most others would balk at.

Nymphadora, however, was faring much better this time around than the first, but she already knew it would not be enough, so, she wasn’t surprised when a curse slammed into her chest a moment later, and she was sent skidding across the breadth of the third floor, her helplessness eliciting a joyous cackle from Bellatrix, who all but skipped towards her to gloat.

She tutted disapprovingly, relieving her of her wand, and Nymphadora could only wait for the final blow to be struck.

“Filthy little half-blood,” Bellatrix sighed with a. grin, levelling her wand towards, only to stiffen briefly before looking down to see the blade protruding from her chest.

She had gotten the idea from Harry having seen how effectively implemented his own, and now, it was paying dividends.

Although it felt like a rather cheap way to win, when it came to a fight of life or death, Nymphadora had learned that it didn’t matter how victory came.

Besides, there was something quite satisfying about using a cunning method to get the better of her aunt, and even the woman acknowledged it with a nod before a spell almost cleaved her in two.

In her final throes of life, Bellatrix Lestrange suffered, and though Nymphadora could not move to see it, she heard the death rattle as her own vision began to swim nauseatingly.

“Auror Tonks!”

She recognised the voice of Amelia Bones and even caught the dishevelled woman as she leaned over her.

“You’ll be fine, Tonks,” Amelia assured her. “Your ribs are broken, and your lungs are collapsed, but you’ll be fine.”

Tonks nodded.

“I got her,” she wheezed.

Bones nodded proudly.

“Yes, you did.”

Nymphadora chuckled, though it quickly became a most unpleasant coughing fit, and Amelia placed a hand on her chest to hold her still.

“You did well, Tonks,” she praised. “YOU, DAWLISH, GET HER OUT OF HERE!”

The last thing she was aware of, was being levitated, and Nymphadora must’ve lost consciousness for several moments, because when she woke up, she could smell the stale alcohol and smoke of The Hog’s Head.

Leaning over her was a woman in white Healer robes, who fed her a pain reliever potion, and she allowed the darkness to take her once more, wondering what was happening at Hogwarts in her absence.

(Break)

He cut down the Aurors and any other that were foolish enough to step into his path indiscriminately, wondering how Potter had managed to even get them into the castle.

His planning and execution had been meticulous, and by now, the outcome of the war was supposed to have swung heavily in his favour. Wizarding Britain should be falling to their knees, begging him to spare the next generation of witches and wizards, but instead Lord Voldemort found himself fighting to ensure his movement survived the coming morning.

Wherever he looked, red robed Aurors fought with everything they had to prevent it, and his followers, despite their superior numbers, were falling in droves.

Equally troubling was the sight of Filius Flitwick squaring off with Dolohov, which meant that not only had the imprisoned professors been freed, but they had also somehow obtained their wands.

Severus.

Either the man had fled when the violence began, or much more likely, he was already dead. Worse yet, as he made his way through the rather subdued third floor having fought his way from the seventh, he came upon a most concerning scene.

Bella.

She had not fallen to spellfire, fighting until the very end and being bested in a blaze of glory. No, she had succumbed to such a fate unworthy of the witch.

A knife of all things.

He did not need to check to see that she was dead. Her lifeless eyes were fixed on him, and he unleashed a guttural roar of rage as he descended to the second floor, his wand a blur as he came upon another group of Aurors.

Those that did not fall had the wherewithal to flee like cowards, but the Dark Lord’s steps did not pause.

He continued his descent, clearing a path through all that stood in his way until he felt the chilly, Scottish air on his flesh as it wafted through the destroyed doors of the castle.

“IT’S THE DARK LORD!” an Auror announced.

To his credit, he did not flee, but the fear emanating from him was palpable, and though the bone splintering curse he fired towards him was quite exceptional, it only served to irritate the Dark Lord, who diverted towards one of the man’s colleagues.

The other Auror screamed as he collapsed the ground clutching his neck, and the first died as he failed to defend himself from the Dark  Lord’s rebuttal.

The haemorrhaging curse ripped through his robes, and he collapsed forward, his death not immediate, but he wasn’t long for the world.

Upon seeing this, the others were reluctant to engage him, and Lord Voldemort paid them no further heed as his gaze drifted towards the grounds where he could see the one man he sought, the one whose death would put an end to the attempted coup.

He watched as Potter transfigured some nearby debris into a collection of spears before he banished them towards a group of Death Eaters.

Some were able to defend themselves, but others were not so skilled, and their screams were heard of the din of battle. They, however, did not last as they perished quickly, and Potter, as though he could sense his very presence, shifted his burning gaze towards the Dark Lord.

It was odd to meet someone in such circumstances and see no fear, and the man even had the audacity to offer him something of a feral grin, as though this was the very moment he’d waited his entire life for.

Perhaps it was but could only have been born of foolish ignorance.

None should relish Lord Voldemort standing before them in such a way, and yet, Potter matched him step for step, both pausing around a dozen feet away from the other.

It was as though the entire battle taking place around them had ceased, that the continued bloodshed, screaming, and sounds of spellfire were no longer occurring at all as they circled one another, waiting for their fated foe to make the first move.

Potter struck first, his offering a plethora of curses that careened towards him at a blistering speed, the force of the magic sending the Dark Lord backwards as those he could not avoid or deflect smashed into his conjured shield.

He nodded appreciatively.

He may despise Potter, and wanted the man dead more than anything else, but there was no denying that he truly was an exceptional wizard, which was as concerning as it would be satisfying when he bested him.

“Not good enough, Harry,’ he sighed, flicking his own wand in response.

The spark that was released appeared to be rather benign in nature, but with just a little manipulation his part, it erupted into a column of fire that would tear through anything in its path.

Potter may have found a way to conquer the real basilisk, but this would not fall in such a way.

Immediately, it hurtled itself towards Potter, intent on immolating his foe, and the Dark Lord chucked amusedly, his eyes wide in anticipation.

Potter, however, proved his mettle.

He did not flinch, and he did not falter in his defence as he wielded his wand as though it were a whip and prevented the fire from feasting on him.

Despite his rather surprising success, it would not be enough to snuff the flames, but much like the flame attempting to engulf him, Potter was relentless, whipping his and upwards and unleashing a pained scream from summoned creature.

The Dark Lord could not deny that he was surprised to see the flame withering away but now was not the time to remain idle. Even before the final embers began to fade, he seized the advantage, following Potter’s example of delving into some of his choice curses.

His jaw tightened as the man deftly avoided and deflected them, returning fire with his own, undeterred by the knowledge that had any of those sent towards him broken through, he would undoubtedly be dead.

Defending himself once more, the Dark Lord offered another nod of acknowledgement, knowing that he had quite the fight on his hands, and he was pleased to see that none seemed willing to intervene.

Those that were not fighting looked on in a state of awe, transfixed by the display of both, and anticipating what would unfold in the coming moments.

(Break)

She could only swallow deeply as she shook her head.

Even before Harry had been born, she’d known that this day would come, and it was the one continuous fear she had lived with. For the most part, Lily had been focused on seeing Harry reach adulthood, to never find himself as helpless as he’d been that Halloween night that Voldemort had managed to reach them.

It was by some miracle that she had managed to do so, and now, although he had only just reached manhood, that inevitable coming together of the two was upon her.

She would rather it be later, when Harry had honed his skills just a little more, or he’d gained further experience, but it appeared that Fate had no intention of waiting any longer, and as she watched the two of them trading spells back and forth, that fear became mingled with pride with just how well Harry was handling himself.

She’d known from a young age that he was different, that he would be an exceptional wizard, but it was more than that now. Her son had grown to be like no other, and the Dark Lord, just as much as her son, was fighting for his life.

Even so, she could not forget the other elements that might well effect the outcome of this coming together, even if Harry had offered her the reassurances she’d needed to hear.

“Horcruxes.”

It was just as Lily feared.

“I have them all except for one, but it doesn’t matter. He will need someone willing to help him rise, and I will not allow that to happen. I will find the last one when he is dead, if necessary.”

“How many?”

“Six in all, and I have five of them. One has already been destroyed, and the others will serve their purpose.”

He had said nothing else on the matter, and now, here he was, attempting to do what no other had managed before him by putting an end to the Dark Lord that had plagued his life since before he’d been born.

Much of the other fighting was done, but there were those from both sides transfixed on the duel between Harry and Voldemort, some on the grounds giving them a wide berth, and others viewing the spectacle from the windows of the castle.

Lily stood with the unblinking Sirius, her grip around his forearm undoubtedly tighter than was comfortable, but he did not acknowledge it. His gaze too was fixed on the duo, as he murmured under his breath.

“Come on, Harry,” he encouraged.

Lily echoed the sentiment, though she could not find her voice.

It was as though her tongue had swollen in her mouth, and all she could do was look on as the fate of wizarding Britain was decided in front of her very eyes.

(Break)

Harry was in no doubt that he was in a fight for his life.

Both he and Riddle were doing their utmost to put an end to the other, and their confrontation had been nothing short of extraordinary with both giving their all to penetrate the defences of the other.

For the most part, they had been unsuccessful, neither able to capitalise or find an opening, and Harry realised that they were indeed evenly matched.

Where Riddle certainly had experience on his side, and even magical knowledge, Harry was younger and was certainly more creative with what he wielded.

The Dark Lord favoured curses, and an approach that would overwhelm most enemies with sheer volume, and the reckless choice of spells; each of them as lethal as the last.

It made for a dangerous opponent, and though he was indeed rather reckless, preferring offense over defence, it was nigh on impossible to find an opening to expose.

Harry knew he could not hope to match the man in such a battle. At best, he could perhaps keep pace with him in defending what was sent his way, but eventually, he would succumb.

He suspected this was how Riddle had been so successful over the years. He would press forward, not allowing any time for a breather, and eventually, those fighting him would become lax in their focus for just the briefest of seconds, which he would take advantage of.

Even more likely, they simply could not handle the power of the magic he attacked with.

There was no denying that he was an exceptional wizard, gifted with power and a keen mind to be envied, but his journey and practices had undoubtedly come at a price that Harry intended to expose when the opportunity presented itself.

Conjuring yet another shield to fend off a flurry of spells, he returned the gesture with an offering of his own, knowing none would land, but taking the chance to see how the man defended himself.

Having spent many months under the tutelage of Filius Flitwick, he had learned that even the slightest of movements of an opponent could be taken advantage of, that the merest hint of fatigue could be capitalised upon.

He frowned as he saw no flaw, and he nodded to himself as a burst of vile magic was sent towards him.

Gathering it on the tip of his wand, he returned it, offering the Dark Lord a smile.

It served to elicit the response he’d both hoped for and expected, and Riddle snarled as he unleashed another barrage of spells, his anger predictably getting the better of him, just as Harry had intended.

Perhaps he couldn’t get the better of him as he would like, but nor could the Dark Lord of Harry, but something had to give, and it would take just a little shrewdness to gain the upper hand.

That was what Harry told himself as he was once more pushed to his limits in a bid to defend himself from the relentless onslaught of the Dark Lord, but to him, I as just another opportunity to study the man, to find something he could use against him along with the unrestrained, uncontrollable anger he was exhibiting.

Even so, if that wasn’t enough, Harry had another trick up his sleeve, and the combination of the two would grant him the single opening he needed, and it just so happened that his intentions would be quite the poetic end for Tom Riddle, last living descendant of Salazar Slytherin.

(Break)

It was difficult to say how long they had been at it.

The ground around them had been torn asunder, likely suffering with the effects of the magic passing between the two, and Sirius felt as though he’d lived an entire lifetime since the duel had begun in earnest.

If what he was witnessing could be a duel.

No, there was nothing sporting about this. Both Harry and Voldemort were playing no games as they continued their lethal dance, each as impressive as the other, and neither able to best their foe.

For most, they could not have hoped to have lasted even a fraction of the time Harry had against the Dark Lord, and both were wearing their share of failures.

Harry was bleeding from a rather deep wound in his side, and Voldemort’s left arm was broken, swaying oddly at his side, though neither showed their wounds were adversely affecting them.

Sirius was acutely aware that he was rooted to the spot, that the fighting of the others had all but ended in favour of watching the outcome of the battle that would be decided by what happened next.

No matter what, however, this was a moment in wizarding history that would be remembered for generations to come, when Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort met at Hogwarts, and only one had walked away.

As things had progressed, it was impossible to tell who that might be, and Sirius could only curse under his breath as Harry continued to goad the Dark Lord, grinning, and even laughing as he nullified the very best the man had to offer.

For Riddle, this was undoubtedly the strangest of things.

For decades, he had grown used to those who’d provoked his ire pleading for their lives, cowering before him, unable to defend themselves through the fear that gripped them.

Harry, however, was not like any other he’d come across.

He showed no fear, did not waver, and did not hesitate to take the fight to the man.

To many, it would be nothing short of suicide, but Sirius Black knew his godson, and he could see that he’d formulated a plan that seemed to involve making Voldemort as angry as possible.

It wasn’t until Harry summoned the dozens of enormous fangs from the basilisk’s mouth that the stalemate seemed to shift in his favour, and as he had been for the past countless minutes, or hours, he looked on with bated breath to see what he would do.

(Break)

Riddle was furious, and his anger only grew as Harry gathered up the fangs of the basilisk, swirling them around him in a hypnotic pattern. It served to distract the man momentarily, but that was not quite his intention.

With how furious he was, he had become single-minded, continuing to defend when necessary, but his efforts to tear Harry limb from limb had grown in urgency, and even more recklessly.

It was the desired effect, and as he pressed on with his attack, Harry prepared himself for his own, his mind drifting once more to the memory that had inspired his idea.

Should all go to plan, Riddle was not long for this world, and yet. He would not be either if it was to fail.

Watching, waiting, and exercising just a little patience, he allowed Tom to lose himself in his lust for blood before snatching one of the fangs out of the air, ensuring he did not unintentionally puncture himself, before retrieving the cup that had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff.

Stepping away from another myriad of curses, he plunged the basilisk fang into the metal, and was swept off his feet by the force, but he did not linger as Riddle too was visibly struck by his actions.

The wide-eyed Dark Lord clutched as his chest, recoiling from whatever it was he was experiencing in the moment, and was unable to defend himself fully against the rest of the basilisk fangs banished towards him.

With a dull thud and a grunt of surprise, he was slammed into the ground, and he gasped as he raised his wand, only to find he was bereft of it. In its place was one of the fangs, that fortunately for Harry, had stabbed him through his hand.

Seizing the one opportunity he knew he would ever be granted; Harry summoned the Dark Lord’s wand before whipping his own upwards, dangling the man half a dozen feet off the floor by his neck.

Already, he was weakened by the effects of the venom coursing through his veins, and would succumb to them momentarily, but Hary was not done with him yet.

Approaching, he paused only a few feet away, and Tom Riddle glared at him balefully.

“I cannot die, Potter,” he wheezed. “You may destroy my body, but it means nothing.”

He was grinning triumphantly, but was taken aback as Harry returned the gesture, removing the remaining Horcruxes as he did so.

“Your diary, Hufflepuff’s cup, Slytherin’s locket, Ravenclaw’s diadem, the Gaunt family ring, and your snake,” he reeled off. “Only one of them eludes me, but I will find Nagini soon enough.”

His gaze bored into Riddle’s as the man did his utmost to see if Harry was lying, and for the first time, likely in decades, he became fearful when he realised that he was not being misled.

“You dare?” he whispered weakly.

Harry snorted humourlessly.

“After all you’ve done to me, you deserve much worse, but don’t worry, Tom. I will make it a point to bury you with your muggle father, and piss all over your grave every chance I get. Now, let’s be done with this. You’ve lived long enough as far as I’m concerned.”

Removing the locket, he held it aloft before removing one of the fangs from the leg of the Dark Lord and stabbing it, eliciting a scream of both rage and agony from the man.

The others quickly followed, and just as Riddle was all but gone from the world, Harry seized him by the throat.

“You should never have come for me, Tom,” he whispered. “I am what I am because you made me this way. You killed my father and tried to kill me. I hope that whatever waits for you on the other side gives you no peace, and that you suffer for all you have done. Goodbye, Tom Riddle.”

Tightening his grip around the man’s throat, Harry plunged his dagger into what quickly became the lifeless form of the Dark Lord who’d haunted him his entire life and did so until he had no energy left to continue.

With a shake of his head, the remains of the Dark Lord thudded to the ground, his crimson eyes devoid of anything but the suffering he’d endured in his final throes.

For Harry, there was nothing but relief, the lifting of a burden he’d never been absent of replaced by a freedom of a life he’d yet to truly begin.

He allowed himself to be lost in that freedom, and it wasn’t until his sobbing mother pulled him into her arms did he begin to live it in the knowledge that a brighter future awaited him.

Before that could be, however, the was still much to do, but with his newfound freedom of Dark Lord’s and prophecies, he would do so gladly in the coming days, weeks, and even months, if that was what it took.

(Break)

It had been hours since Tonks had arrived to announce that Harry’s plan had gone awry, and since, neither Sabine or Emmeline had said much, both lost in their own maudlin thoughts, and shooting furtive gazes towards the clock.

Both were terrified of the implications of what was happening at Hogwarts. Both could lose the father of their children, leaving them in a state of uncertainty.

Equally frightening for Sabine was losing the love of her life, who, against all odds, she had found her way back to, despite all of the obstacles set out before them.

She swallowed deeply at the thought, her hand coming to rest on her stomach in a bid to settle the unsettled babe she carried.

For how much longer she remained, she did not know, but the son had almost risen by the time the kitchen door opened to admit an exhausted, grim Sirius Black.

Emmeline breathed a sigh of relief, and for a fleeting moment, Sabine was jealous of the woman, envious that she knew the father of her child and love of her life had returned to her, mostly unharmed.

He was sporting minor wounds, and a bandage had been tightly wrapped around his leg, but other than that, he was faring well.

“Harry…?”

“Is as well as you can expect him to be. He was cursed a few times, and is having his wounds tended to, but he did it,” Sirius whispered, his eyes welling with tears.

“He did it?”

The man nodded reassuringly, and Emmeline pulled her into her arms.

“What’s the damage she asked?”

Sirius deflated.

“Tonks is badly wounded but is expected to pull through. We lost a lot of Aurors, but Bellatrix is dead, as is Pomona, Horace, and Aurora Sinistra. We lost a lot of people.”

It was not the best news, but Harry had done it, and Sabine could finally breathe a sigh of relief, as pleased for him as she was for herself.

“Lily?”

“Is with Harry, who is being as difficult as you’d expect. She was brilliant, all of them were. It will take some time to put the castle back together, and then the Death Eaters who surrendered will need to be put on trial. Before that, the dead must be buried. It’s going to be a busy few months, but in the end, it will all be worth it, I hope.”

He was exhausted, grieving, and that would continue when the euphoria of victory wore off, but he was alive, and he would not be tormented by the need to bury his godson as he had the young man’s father.

For Sabine, she had been distanced from much o what had happened, save for this evening, but she had witnessed what it had taken out of Harry, the sacrifices he had made to lead him to victory, and now, she hoped that he would be granted all the peace he could want after enduring all he had since he’d been but a babe.

“The Healers will be furious when they return and you’re not there.”

“Bugger the Healers,” Harry huffed. “The place is already crawling with journalists.”

“You’ll have to face them sooner or later.”

“I will, but for now, they’ve gotten all they will out of me.”

Lily rolled her teary eyes at her son as they entered the kitchen sometime after Sirius had arrived. He was covered in a mixture of blood and filth, and though she did not doubt the coming days and weeks would prove to be stressful, he seemed to be more relaxed than Sabine had ever seen him.

“You did it,” she whispered as he reached her.

Harry nodded tiredly, wrapping his arms around her.

“He’s gone.”

It was a simple, roundabout way of summarising the past almost eighteen years, and yet, there was little else to say.

Harry had emerged victorious; the night Tom Riddle murdered his father finally coming full circle to Harry both avenging the man and being freed from all that weighed him down.

“So, what next?” Sabine asked curiously.

Harry frowned thoughtfully and seemed to want to begin reeling off all that would come, but he shook his head instead.

“We live,” he answered, offering his mother and Sirius a knowing smile.

Sabine did not doubt that the sentiment was lost on her, and though it appeared to be another, almost dismissive declaration, she could see just how much those two words meant to the man, his mother, godfather, and now her.

“We live,” she agreed, her hand once more coming to rest on the now settled babe she was carrying.