Chapter 13: Chapter 13
~ ~ = Parseltongue
<<<<<<<<<<Harry Potter>>>>>>>>>
Harry exited the Head's office and picked up one of the discarded broomsticks left behind on the floor. Kicking off into the air, he approached the giant that was destroying everything in its path, advancing towards the crowd of fighting witches and wizards.
"What's that?" asked Ernie Macmillan incredulously, looking at the rapidly moving figure in the sky.
"It's – It's Harry!" shouted Susan Bones in awe.
Harry dived, twirled and started spinning in circles around the giant in order to distract it from the people on the ground. Flying towards its chest, Harry plunged the sword deep into its heart; while normal metal would have found it impossible to pierce through the tough hide of the giant, the specially crafted blade made of goblin silver, imbibed with basilisk venom, made it through. The giant howled in pain and swatted Harry with its enormous hand. Even though he was an outstanding flier, the former Seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team lost control of his broom as he painfully hit the ground, with blood dripping from the injuries he had suffered all over. Susan, Luna and Ernie came over to help him up, just as the giant fell back, dead. The basilisk venom being injected directly into the heart had a near instant effect.
"Good job, Potter," praised one of the Ministry Hit-Wizards who was fighting on their side. "We'll distract the other two giants; do you think you can manage to stab them too?"
Spitting blood on the ground, Harry tried to get his breathing under control. "I'll do my best," he replied hoarsely.
He picked up his broom and sword and flew towards the second giant. With the help of several witches and wizards, he managed to stab the creatures in the chest without being knocked off his broom. In less than twenty minutes, the two remaining giants had been killed.
But Harry was injured badly at this point; he could barely walk. There were several cuts and broken bones all over his body and he was glad that he didn't have his glasses anymore. Merlin knows what would have happened had he lost them during the battle. Wanting to enter the castle in order to seek medical help, he donned his Invisibility Cloak and limped towards the doors. He suddenly stiffened when the voice of his enemy rang out. All around him, people stopped fighting.
"You have fought," said the high, cold voice, "valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste."
"Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately."
"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."
"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then the battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you and kill every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."
The Death Eaters quickly retreated. Harry decided that it was time to mobilise and find out exactly where they stood. Just before he entered the Great Hall, he heard a crack of Apparition.
"Dobby, report," Harry rasped out.
"Dobby and the other elves freed the Muggle-borns, Master Harry," smiled Dobby. "They all be safe at the Potter and Black farmhouses."
"How many were killed, Dobby?"
"Dobby does not believe the bad Ministry killed them, Master Harry. The Muggle-borns be only locked up and starved. A few dozen died when wizards like Dobby's bad master tortured them, but the others are alive," said Dobby, shaking his head. "Those in camps be very sick and hungry. We be taking care of them. There are many thousands of them, Master Harry."
Thank Merlin for small mercies. The thousands of Muggle-borns taken by the Ministry were not killed. He was sure they were tortured, though, which wasn't any better.
"Thank you, Dobby. You all did an excellent job," said Harry softly as he patted the elf on the head. "I have to go now. I need to get healed before the hour is up."
When Harry entered the Great Hall, all eyes turned to him and some gasped at his appearance. He looked bloody and beaten, face puffed up, with several cuts all over his body. His shirt was soaked in blood and he was limping. The first thing that caught his attention were bodies; so many bodies. Some dead, others injured. Guilt filled him to the bone, but Harry pushed those negative thoughts to the back of his mind. As he slowly limped forward, he saw a Slytherin first year shivering in the corner, crying silently, surrounded by a few other eleven-year-olds. The boy had a cut on his cheek.
"Hey there, mate," said Harry softly as he slowly kneeled down in front of him. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you go home?"
The boy shook his head as more tears trickled down his face. "I don't want to go home," he whispered. "My father and big brother are fighting alongside those people. I don't want to be with them. I want my Mummy, but she – she – she was killed by the Dark Lord!"
Harry swallowed as he held the sobbing boy who had suddenly rushed into his arms, not aware that many were watching. "What's your name?"
"T-T-Thaddeus Nott," the boy hiccupped. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but please don't send me back to my father! He and the Dark Lord will kill me just like they killed my mother! Please!"
"Don't worry, we won't send you back," Harry assured the young boy. "But I must ask you and your companions to stay out of the fight. Can you do that for me?"
"But where can we go?"
Before Harry could answer, the kindly Professor Sprout took charge and led the few remaining first years to the kitchens where they could be looked after by the house-elves.
With that taken care of, Harry limped towards one of the student-healers who had just finished patching up Susan Bones.
"Hey Susan, are you okay?" he inquired.
"I'm fine, Harry," she smiled. "Good job on taking care of the giants. It was a brilliant idea. Is that the Sword of Gryffindor?" she asked, looking at the sword gleaming from Harry's belt.
"Yes, ouch!"
"Potter, please stay still. You're badly wounded," said Daphne Greengrass quietly, pointing her wand at his right knee. "It'll take several minutes for me to heal you."
Fifteen minutes later, once she had patched him up, Harry stood on his feet, only to painfully hit the stone floor when someone punched him in the face.
The entire Great Hall gasped collectively in shock as Harry fell on his butt, clutching his nose as he looked up at his attacker with fire in his green eyes.
Ron Weasley stared back at his best friend, with a snarl painted on his face.
"YOU!" he screamed angrily. "It's because of you that my father is dead! You bloody bastard, I – I –"
Unable to form any coherent words due to the pain he was experiencing in losing one of his parents, Ron instead chose to punch him again, only for Harry to slash his wand in the air and banish the ginger to the stone floor. People were watching attentively, wondering what happened to the friendship the Boy-Who-Lived and the youngest Weasley son had once shared.
"How am I to blame, Ron?" hissed Harry angrily. "Are you labouring under the delusion that I was sitting on my butt the whole time? I was fighting too!"
"And a fat load of good it did!" Ron bellowed. "Where the hell were you when my father was attacked?"
"I was on the grounds, killing the three fucking thirty-foot-tall giants," spat Harry. "This is a war, Ron! I didn't even know where your father was! How could I have helped him? You're his son; it was you who should have been with him and protected him!"
"Ronald, maybe we should take this somewhere private," Hermione interrupted, but the ginger cut her off.
"This battle would never have taken place if not for you! You know that he can't be killed. You didn't finish the mission Dumbledore gave you and instead, you're killing innocent people by starting this fight. You're as bad as You-Know-Who!"
Silence reigned once more as Harry stared at Ron in shock, unable to believe what he was hearing. Recovering in moments, he stepped closer to the redhead so that they were face-to-face.
"Is that so?" he said, his voice dripping with venom. "You think I'm just like Voldemort? If that's what you believe, Ronald, then that shows that you have never been my friend all these years. Let me assure you that the reason I took a stand tonight is because I have every intention of killing him. I'm willing to forgive you because your grief is clouding your judgement, but don't expect me to ever be your friend after this night."
With that as his parting statement, Harry walked away from Ron, who was still glaring at him. Hermione was close to tears at the sight of a further rift in their friendship and at the feeling of helplessness, not knowing what was going on. The rest of the Weasleys hadn't noticed, too distressed over the death of their father.
Harry was sad that a good man had died, but Arthur's death didn't really hurt him. Cedric, Sirius and Dumbledore's murders had shaken him too much and every death after that became numb. Harry paused in front of the bodies of Remus and Tonks.
Harry had never spoken to his former professor after they had lashed out at each other in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place in August. Remus had informed them of his separation from his heavily pregnant wife, unable to deal with the guilt he felt at the possibility of his then unborn child being born a werewolf. Harry had been disgusted and furious, going so far as to verbally attack Remus, comparing him to James Potter who had selflessly walked to his death with the hope of giving his wife and son time to escape, while Remus had abandoned his pregnant wife and unborn child during a time of war, choosing the path of a coward. Had Hermione not intervened, the two would have probably duelled in the kitchen. While Harry did not feel guilty about that confrontation, he did feel bad that he had never reconciled with the last of his father's best friends.
He suddenly realised, with a jolt, that Teddy was an orphan. The boy's parents and grandparents were all dead. Harry was the only family he had left. If he survived the battle tonight, his godson would be his top priority. He would not repeat Sirius' mistakes.
Kneeling down, Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply, conserving his energy. He knew that one of the reasons he had been able to take out so many Death Eaters was because of the sheer power of the Elder Wand. Voldemort must have been furious at not finding the wand in Dumbledore's grave.
The various healers worked with quiet efficiency as they patched people through. Many in the Hall occasionally stole glances at Harry as he meditated, hoping that he wouldn't give into the pressure and turn himself over to Voldemort. Thankfully, as the minutes ticked by, it became clear that their saviour was not going to leave. He had obviously decided to fight, not surrender, and that only rejuvenated many a witch and wizard in the Hall.
When the hour was almost up, Harry opened his eyes and stood up.
"If I could have everyone's attention please," he called out loudly. Hundreds of heads turned towards him.
"This is it. We have a chance to end this war here and now. This war has gone on for decades, destroying Magical Britain in the process. Remember what we have lost and what we can hope to regain once it is over. Remember all those who gave their lives for freedom. Do you recall what Riddle said? He said that he will destroy every man, woman and child who steps in his path. Those are the words of an insane monster, not those of a visionary. No matter what you believe, trust me when I say that he is not invincible! He can he stopped once and for all! So, please, I beg of you, don't give up now. Not when we are this close! This madman doesn't care about anyone but himself! He is willing to kill innocent children! If we let this go, there will no Magical Britain left to defend. This is our last chance. Don't waste it!"
"I agree," said Neville loudly as he stood up. "Let's finish this once and for all. To victory!" he yelled, raising his fist high in the air.
"TO VICTORY!"
The scream of determination from all echoed throughout the castle and grounds.
<<<<<<<<<<Harry Potter>>>>>>>>>
The battle resumed. Harry, under his Invisibility Cloak, used stealth to the best of his advantage as he killed the Death Eaters that he knew were dangerous and notorious. No matter how passionate the defenders of Hogwarts were in achieving victory over their enemies, the sad truth was that the teenagers were just not skilled enough to defeat the inner circle members of Voldemort's army.
Voldemort was fighting three at once – McGonagall, Kingsley and Slughorn, who couldn't get a scratch on him. Bellatrix was fighting multiple opponents too and just as Harry was about to cast a curse from his invisible position, a jet of orange light soared past her defences and impacted Bellatrix in the chest. She screamed and withered in pain as the organs in her body liquefied, bringing unending pain to the insane witch. The attacker followed with a Cutting Curse, severing her neck from her body.
Voldemort roared in fury at the loss of his most trusted lieutenant. He pointed his wand at the person responsible, Neville Longbottom, only for a block of marble to impact the Killing Curse. He looked around wildly, only to snarl, "Potter!" when Harry finally removed the Invisibility Cloak, revealing himself to the Dark Lord.
People had stopped fighting now. They watched as Harry and Voldemort circled each other like a pair of wolves, ready to tear the other in two.
"~ It's over, Tom, ~" Harry hissed in Parseltongue.
He purposely chose not to speak English. That was the only way he could communicate with the Dark Lord without anyone else understanding what he was saying. Information about the Horcruxes could never be revealed to the masses, after all. There was no telling what anyone would do with it. Knowledge about the Horcruxes was better left forgotten, never to be discovered by the common witch and wizard.
"~ There are no more Horcruxes. You are mortal now! ~"
People were wondering what Harry had just said when Voldemort let out a maniacal laugh and hissed back, "~ Do you think you could find them all, Potter? I am Lord Voldemort! I have pushed the boundaries of magic more than anyone in history! You can't find them all and a pathetic wizard like you can never hope to breach the enchantments I have erected around them! Face it, Potter, I am immortal and I shall always be immortal! ~"
Harry smirked faintly, tightening his grip on the handle of the Elder Wand to prepare for the duel that would begin in the next few seconds.
"~ Still the pathetic six-year-old boy who is scared of death, aren't you Tom? The diary given to Lucius Malfoy; Helga Hufflepuff's Cup in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault at Gringotts; Marvolo Gaunt's ring in the shack in Little Hangleton; Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem in the Room of Requirement here at Hogwarts; Salazar Slytherin's locket in the cave by the sea where you tortured your fellow orphans; and of course, you're snake Nagini – all of them have been destroyed! ~"
Fear gripped Voldemort like it never had before. How? How had the boy discovered his greatest secret? Was he telling the truth? Blinding hatred assaulted his vision as he slashed his wand in the air. Jets of light flew in all directions as Harry and Voldemort battled for supremacy. Harry, unfortunately, was not a match for the Dark Lord's knowledge in magic and was quickly losing. Sensing a weakness, Voldemort decided to end it once and for all as he pointed the Yew wand at his greatest foe.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Harry, seizing the opportunity, knowing that being the master of the Elder Wand would ensure that he won this duel, flicked his wand at the man who had murdered his parents, thus destroying his life. With a silent prayer to Mother Magic, he too yelled –
"Avada Kedavra!"
Two beams of green light flew from the tips of both wands as they impacted each other. Flashes of light could be seen, but Harry pushed and soon, Voldemort found himself on the back foot, unable to strike. As much as Voldemort tried, he couldn't match the power of the Elder Wand. Harry's Killing Curse hit Voldemort, destroying the Dark Lord's wand in the process. With shock still etched on his snake-like face, his body shrunk into a feeble mass as he hit the ground.
Tom Marvolo Riddle was dead, killed by the boy who was prophesied to defeat him.
Harry stood there, breathing hard, but when he saw people about to celebrate, he pointed his wand at the remaining Death Eaters and started stunning them. Getting the hint, the rest of them began to stun and bound members of the late Dark Lord's army, who were still in shock at their Master's sudden defeat.
No one was getting off easy this time.
When they were done, the tumult broke around Harry as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air. The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as they thundered toward him, all of them wanting to shake his hand and touch the Boy Who Lived; their beloved saviour.
After he was able to get away from the crowd, Harry informed Kingsley that the Muggle-borns who were sent to camps were rescued, currently safe at his family's farmhouses. With relief evident in his eyes, the former Auror left, wanting to take charge at the Ministry.
Once there was some semblance of control, Harry and a few other members of the D.A. spent half an hour ensuring that all the Death Eaters present had been captured. That was when he encountered the stunned and bound form of Severus Snape. The man had entered during the last stages of the battle like the coward he was. Harry vowed to himself that Snape would get what was coming to him.
The House tables were restored and people were sitting, eating and making merry. Not exactly in the mood to celebrate, Harry left the Great Hall and headed towards the Head's office. Even though he had summoned the spirit and forced Dumbledore to tell the truth, he still wanted to talk to the rotten portrait. As he was walking, his lips thinned when he saw Ron and Hermione hurrying towards him.
"Harry – mate – slow down," panted Ron as he ran up to talk to him. "Harry, I'm sorry I yelled at you. I was upset and Dad had just died and –"
"It's fine," Harry said simply, though his tone was enough to convey the message that he wasn't going to forgive the boy.
"Harry, how did you get the rest of the Horcruxes?" asked Hermione in shock and not a little resentment. "What happened to your glasses? You've suddenly grown taller and the features on your face seem to have changed!"
Harry didn't answer her as he calmly led them to the Head's office. As he opened the door, there were voices of celebration as the portraits welcomed him. He looked at the portrait directly behind the headmaster's desk. Tears were flowing from his eyes into his long silver beard.
"What are you crying for, Dumbledore?" asked Harry quietly. "Are you distraught that your plan went up in smoke and that I'm not dead?"
His green eyes were glowing with unadulterated rage.
Dumbledore's portrait panicked, jumping to the wrong conclusion. "Miss Granger, Mr Weasley! Voldemort is not dead! He –"
"Oh, shut up, Dumbledore," snapped Harry. With a flick of his wand, he created a privacy bubble around him and the portrait, cutting off any sound from Ron and Hermione. "I've already gotten rid of the damn soul-piece. Did you think your stupid plan was the only thing that could work? Did you honestly believe that sacrificing myself on the altar of the greater good was the only way to kill Voldemort?"
Dumbledore's portrait gaped at Harry. "It's-It's gone?" he exclaimed. "Is it really you, Harry?"
"Even if I were Voldemort, I'd say yes. But to answer your question, I did get rid of the Horcrux in my scar. And for the record, I did not let Voldemort hit me with a bloody Killing Curse to remove it!"
"Then the soul-piece is not destroyed!" cried Dumbledore's portrait. "My boy, you've made a grave mistake! If you didn't follow my instructions, then Voldemort is alive and still out there!"
"Voldemort is dead." Harry stated flatly. "He's not coming back. All his Horcruxes were destroyed, I personally saw to it. As for my scar, I received help from the goblins, Dumbledore. They found a way to destroy it without killing me. Are you disappointed that I'm not dead? After all, you raised me like a weapon, ready to be deployed at destroyed at the right time."
"Harry, I only did what I thought was best. Voldemort had to be killed."
"And I, with him," Harry said bitterly. "You screwed me over, Dumbledore, multiple times. Not only me, but everyone as well. You tried to redeem worthless scum like Draco Malfoy while putting innocent people at risk. Your selfish, dim-witted actions caused the deaths of thousands! Well, your great plan went up in flames. Your weapon is still alive and Snape is in custody. I'll ensure that every witch and wizard in the magical world knows of your atrocities."
Dumbledore's portrait closed his eyes in defeat. He knew that his explanation for his actions would not be enough to reason with Harry.
The defeater of the Dark Lord Voldemort turned to leave, but paused mid-stride. He looked at Dumbledore's portrait with barely concealed disgust and before Ron and Hermione knew what was happening, Gryffindor's sword was buried in the canvas.
"HARRY!" yelled Ron, just as the silencing charm was disabled.
"What are you doing, Harry?" screeched Hermione. "That's Dumbledore's portrait! It's Dumbledore! What's wrong with you?"
The other portraits of the headmasters and headmistress also screamed and shouted profanities at him for destroying the sole portrait of the great Albus Dumbledore, but Harry ignored them all and simply strolled out of the room without a backward glance.
He doubted if things would ever be the same with him, Ron and Hermione again. The war, the discovery of the Horcrux in his scar, and Dumbledore's betrayal, had changed him. Maybe if he was not as deeply hurt and scarred as he was over Dumbledore's actions, he would have tried to mend his friendship with Ron and Hermione, but now, after everything that had happened, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. No matter how much he tried, how much he forced himself to remember the last six years of friendship, he wasn't able to forgive Ron for his actions and hurtful words.
Then there was Hermione. Harry wondered if he should be angry with Hermione as much as he was, but then again, she too believed in Dumbledore's infallibility and would never hear a word against him. He hadn't forgotten her constant, condescending nagging and how she had looked at him as though he was the culprit whenever his scar had throbbed. He wondered how she would have fared under Snape's tutelage if he had taught her Occlumency. Harry was sure that Hermione would have gone insane due to the torture.
He just wasn't in the mood to deal with her and the endless questions about the Horcruxes that would surely follow. Not now. He was exhausted; physically, mentally and emotionally. Maybe he would talk to her later, once he was rested and his mind clearer, but he would never forgive Ron. Ever. Nor would he reveal the truth about the existence of the Elder Wand and him being its master, or that his scar had once housed a piece of Voldemort's soul. That information would remain a secret with him forever.
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