Chapter 35: The Fall of a Mentor

The Fall of a Mentor

A/N

Here is the penultimate chapter, so, just the epilogue to go.

The first chapter of my next story, 'Whispers of a Raven' will be posted here on Sunday and you will get a chapter every Sunday of that.

The Epilogue for this will be posted before then.

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Finally, a massive thank you to those of you that have joined the community on the other page. My output would not be possible without all of you. Honestly, we would probably still be only five chapters in at this point without the time you give me to invest in the writing, podcasts and everything else I now do, so truly, thank you all.

This chapter is dedicated to both Jake Wilson and Marcus Hamilton. Your support is appreciated more than I could put into words x

For only the second time, Harry found himself seated in the office of the Minister of Magic, the circumstances much different this time. It had been only a week since Lord Greengrass had been elevated to his position and already he had sought an audience with the teen. Leaning against the unlit fireplace was Amelia Bones, her visage as stern as ever though her posture was more relaxed than he had seen.

"Can I get you a drink, Mr Potter?" Greengrass offered.

"No, thank you, Minister" Harry replied politely.

The man nodded.

"Down to business then," he sighed as he took a seat behind his desk.

It was evident that he had not yet become accustomed to his role. He seemed uncomfortable in the chair, adjusting himself before resting his elbows on the table.

"I want to start by thanking you. I never had any ambition of becoming Minister and was simply happy to serve where I could. Being given this opportunity will be a boon to my family status, but it also means that I can do so much more for the people. For all intents and purposes, I am one of them. My family, although an old one, is not one of great wealth or influence. I own a small business that sees us well enough, that is all," he explained.

"And that is another reason you should be Minister," Harry returned. "You understand the difficulty of merely living in wizarding Britain, have likely struggled and overcome adversity. I will think you'll find, Minister, that those that do not seek power are most suited for it."

"That remains to be seen," Greengrass chuckled. "I will do my best and I only wanted to extend my gratitude to you personally. Without you support, I would not even have been considered."

"I only pointed out your merit. I do not for one second believe I have that much influence. Even fools have their moments of wisdom and there was nothing for them to disagree with."

"That could be true," Greengrass replied thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Anyway, we are here now, and I have the not so enviable task of dealing with Fudge's failings, starting with what on earth is going on out there," he finished, pointing out the window of his office.

"That depends on if you want the truth or wish to bury your head in the sand," Harry replied.

"I would have the truth of it," Greengrass answered immediately. "I am no fool, I have seen the world around us change this past year and having spoken to Madame Bones extensively, I believe there is something afoot."

"He is back," Harry informed him. "At the end of the third task last year, he was resurrected. We fought and I barely escaped with my life. Since then, he has been working towards building an army and I have been doing all I can to prevent it."

Greengrass released a deep breath as he nodded.

"As much as I do not wish to believe it, I will not doubt either you or Madame Bones," he muttered. "Well, as you have been the only person working against him as far as I am aware, what can you tell me? Are we in danger?"

"We are always in danger when it comes to him," Harry answered gravely. "He is unpredictable and could strike at any moment, but we may have time to prepare. He will not do anything until I am dead. Call me egotistical if you will but he needs to kill me before he will announce his return."

"And what have you done so far to prevent it?"

"I killed Greyback and now he has a pack of werewolves at odds. I have eliminated Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy, his two most dangerous supporters."

The former wasn't dead, but they did not need to know that.

"You killed Lucius?" Amelia broke in.

Harry nodded.

"I received intelligence that his wife Narcissa, a member of the Black family, was being held prisoner and mistreated. As the future head of house, I acted accordingly and retrieved her. There was an altercation and Lucius was killed, along with Rabastan Lestrange and several other Death Eaters in the explosion. Narcissa is with her son in a family safehouse."

Amelia shook her head in disbelief as Greengrass rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"It will cause problems when word gets out," he mumbled.

"No, it won't," Harry denied. "Draco has sworn an oath of loyalty to the Blacks and will denounce the Malfoy name when he comes of age. The Malfoy fortune will be handed over to the Potter family as compensation for what Lucius's master did to the former lord and his wife. The Malfoys are done, their line has ended."

Greengrass balked at the finality in his tone.

"You're proving to be quite ruthless, Potter. I'm sure the former Lord Black would approve."

"I am ruthless to those who are a threat to me and those I am charged with protecting, Minister," Harry bit back, "but we a digressing. What happened between me and the Malfoys is done and if anyone wishes to take issue with it, then that's their prerogative. I will not apologise for it."

"No, I don't expect you will," Greengrass snorted, "but you are right, we are not here to discuss what is done. I need to know what it is we are facing. I would like to avoid a drawn-out conflict if possible and protect the people from this threat."

"The threat is as it was during the last war. Voldemort is just as dangerous as he was, and he will kill indiscriminately. For now, he is biding his time, but the peace won't last. I have struck significant blows against him, but he won't give up."

The Minister nodded.

"Madame Bones and I have discussed this, and she too has been doing all she can to mitigate the fallout. We are very fortunate that she has not been as idle as Fudge and has made progress in her own way. Would you care to fill him in, Amelia."

The woman pushed herself away from the fireplace and took a seat next to Harry.

"You will remember during the first meeting when Cornelius was questioned by the man that reported the village near to his home was attacked by giants?"

Harry frowned. He did remember but had seen no sign of them at Malfoy Manor.

"Well, I have had agents from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures searching for them," she explained. "I visited the village in question and there was no doubt in my mind that giants were indeed responsible for the damage there. It has taken them weeks, but they have located the group. There are twelve that are slowly making their way north towards Hogsmeade. They will reach it in the next seven days."

"Why have you done nothing about them?" Harry asked.

"Because I wanted to discuss it with you," Bones huffed irritably. "As much as I do not like it, you are at the centre of everything that is happening. Can you think of any reason they would go to Hogsmeade?"

It made little sense to him. Voldemort would not wish to lure him somewhere so public. He would be cautious and would only announce his return when Harry was dead. No, there was more to it than that.

"A distraction," he mused aloud as the realisation set in.

"A distraction?" Bones pressed.

"I have it on good authority that he intends to have me taken to him. He would not do it somewhere so public as Hogsmeade. He wants the auror force to be distracted whilst he does what he needs to."

"Why would he need that?" Greengrass questioned.

"Because he wants to bring me here to the Ministry."

Both appeared to be confused by the declaration.

"Not the smartest place to be if you don't wish to be discovered," Madame Bones commented.

"No, but with the aurors away and distracted, who will be here to stop him?" Harry questioned. "It's a calculated risk and one he would pull off if you didn't know about it."

"Merlin, the thought of him being here does not sit well with me," Greengrass grumbled.

"Well, it's going to happen and that is something you cannot prevent," Harry replied candidly.

"Then we should have people lie in wait, ready to stop him," Greengrass suggested.

Harry shook his head.

"It won't work. They would be discovered and killed. He will feel any trap you set a mile off. You should let him do what he wants to, it is the only way this could work."

Greengrass looked towards Madame Bones who shrugged.

"What is it he wants? I will not have people put needlessly at risk," he sighed.

"He wants me, and something kept in the Department of Mysteries. At the moment, he is uncertain and will not act without it. I imagine he will retrieve the item and then have me brought to him there."

"What item?" Madame Bones asked suspiciously, not denying the existence of the supposedly secret department.

"A prophecy," Harry answered honestly. "There is a prophecy down there that pertains to us. He knows a part of it, as do I."

Madame Bones openly laughed, though coughed to prevent it further when she saw that Harry was not.

"A prophecy? He will do all of this for a prophecy?"

"Make no mistake, Madame Bones, Voldemort's understanding of magic goes beyond the norm. If he sees something in it, it is for a good reason. It would be foolish to dismiss it out of hand because you do not understand it."

The woman fell silent, a frown marring her features.

"You speak as though you know him," Greengrass interjected.

"Because I do. I know him better than any and have spent most of my years in Hogwarts learning all I could about him. I learned at the end of my first year that he was not dead and have not stopped since doing all I could to prepare for the inevitable. It will come down to me and him, one way or the other."

The Minister gave him what he deemed a pitying look, but he chose to ignore it. He didn't need pity, nor did he want it. He had accepted his fate long ago.

"I have always wondered why he came for you that night when you were a baby," he sighed. "The prophecy?"

A ghost of a smirk tugged at Harry's lips. Greengrass was a sharp man indeed.

"If you believe in such things, you would say it is destiny," he returned with a shrug. "He will do all he can to kill me as I will do the same to him. Neither one of us will rest until the other is dead. Perhaps there is something written in the stars, perhaps not. Maybe it is just that we both want each other gone so badly."

Greengrass swallowed deeply before releasing a deep breath.

"Can you beat him?" Madame Bones asked bluntly. "If we do this, can you promise you will put an end to him?"

Harry snorted and shook his head.

"I can't promise I will win but we will meet as equals, at worst. I do have advantages he does not, but he has his ow strengths. With Voldemort, nothing is certain, but I am your best option of finishing this before it truly gets started."

Madame Bones muttered in disbelief under her breath.

"I do not like it, but you have not been wrong yet, Potter, and you clearly have a plan, so, let's hear it and we will see just what we can do to help you."

(Break)

Sebastien looked on as, what he expected to be, the former Minister of Magic for Great Britain was brought into the chambers to face the judgement of the ICW. It did not look good for the man and his pasty and sweaty visage spoke of the nervousness he felt.

For the past days, he had been subjected to questioning on a multitude of issues that had been found within his administration, some he was seemingly unaware of which only demonstrated his negligence of his duty. He was a fool who should never have been elected, in over his head throughout his tenure and he would now pay dearly for his transgressions against the people of Britain, unwitting or not.

At first, he had been defiant, had believed himself above the reproach of the body, but even the Minister of a country was accountable and would be held such by Sebastien Delacour and his peers. Perhaps he was not aware of this or maybe the power he had obtained had gone to his head. Regardless, there was no excuse. He stood accused of endangering his people through neglect of necessary services, misappropriation of funds and, though he did not know it yet, subjecting vulnerable citizens to torture through lack of appropriate vetting measures.

Despite her protests of innocence and even threats of vengeance, Dolores Umbridge had confessed to her crimes via veritaserum. She too would receive her due punishment today, and though they would unlikely sentence her to death, she would not live to experience freedom. In all wizarding cultures, the life and welfare of children was sacred, and she would learn that. It was not often that the ICW would be unanimously in agreement on something, but this was one of the few things that would untie them.

Dolores Umbridge would be fortunate to last a month where she was going, wherever that was. Already, arguments had occurred as to who would have the pleasure of welcoming her.

The representative of Russia was adamant she would go to the worst gulag he had, a place that Sebastien had heard the most terrible rumours about. Whether they were true or not, he couldn't be sure, but the Russian's were not well-known for their gentle prisons. If anything, they were known for the cruelty their inmates faced, a topic that had been discussed amongst them during various meetings over the years.

When questioned, the man would coyly reply with; 'Our prisoners are there to be punished for deeds against our country. A punishment is not a punishment unless a lesson is learned, njet?'

Sebastien had no desire to learn any more than that, but he would be hard-pressed to disagree with Umbridge being sent there. Her actions were unforgivable, and he could think of no better place for her.

His thoughts were intruded upon by the temporary Supreme Mugwump addressing the man. Dumbledore had abdicated the position for the duration of the proceedings in favour of ensuring that fairness could not be called into question when their conclusion was reached.

"Mr Fudge, over four days we have discussed your tenure as Minister of Magic for Great Britain due to numerous concerns regarding yourself," the Japanese representative stated. "You have offered unsubstantiated explanations for your actions and what we deem to be unacceptable excuses. Before we come to a decision as a governing body, we would like to ask if you have anything you wish to say for yourself. We will then put forward the evidence gathered against you. You will be allowed to speak a final time but know this; if we find that you have lied to or misled us in any way, we will be more inclined towards harsher measures. Do you understand?"

A pale Fudge nodded, his bowler hat twirling uncomfortably in his hands.

"You may speak, Mr Fudge," the Supreme Mugwump informed him.

"I-I would rather hear the evidence against me first," the man stammered.

"Very well," the Supreme Mugwump conceded. "Firstly, it is put to you that upon taking office, you reduced the numbers and budget of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Having examined the figures ourselves, we deem this to be negligence towards the safety of the citizens of magical Britain. An appropriate auror force was not maintained, and as a result, crime levels increased whilst the percentage of convictions fell significantly."

"I did what I thought was best for the people," Fudge returned heatedly.

"But you did not," the representative of Portugal broke in. "The evidence proves that."

The bobbing of his throat was visible, any rebuttal he may have been conceiving dying on his tongue.

"Moving on from that," the Supreme Mugwump announced, "is the charge of misappropriation of funds, this and the former charge we suspect being connected."

"I have already explained…"

"Not to our satisfaction," Sebastien broke in irritably, tired of the man's feeble excuses. "Almost 'alf a million galleons being unaccounted for is not a sum to take lightly. We 'ave investigated this very thoroughly and 'ave discovered some troubling things."

"Indeed," the Supreme Mugwump continued, producing a wreath of parchment from beneath his podium. "We have accounted for the missing funds, and do you know what we found?"

Fudge shook his head nervously.

"The gold was given as donations to various charitable trusts, a very generous gesture on your part, Mr Fudge, though we found some discrepancies, so to speak."

"D-discrepancies?"

The Supreme Mugwump leaned forward, seemingly to get a closer look at the British Minister.

"These charitable trusts were set up by the same man, one Lucius Abraxus Malfoy. A coincidence? Possibly, but we have received confirmation from Gringotts that the funds paid into these accounts were transferred into Mr Malfoy's personal vault."

"N-no, Lucius wouldn't…"

"So, you admit you paid the gold to him?"

"Yes, but for his charitable ventures…"

"Do not lie to us!" to the Russian representative seethed. "You knowingly gave the galleons to the man, aware that it would end up in his personal coffers. No minister would be so generous, not without something to gain for themselves. What did you gain, Mr Fudge? Was it influence, or perhaps you were paying for favours to retain your position? It is no secret that you are unpopular, and your approval rate has been sliding over the years? Was it bribery?"

"NO! I did not bribe anyone."

"No, not consciously," the Italian representative jumped in. "You lack both the wit and cunning to do so. It is more likely that you are a pawn, a fool who is easily led astray. Tell me, what did Mr Malfoy ask of you over the years you were associated with him? What ideas did he feed into your stupid head? Did he suggest reducing the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"

Fudge shook his head the same way a horse would that was being bothered by flies, overwhelmed by the questioning.

"He may have suggested it," he conceded.

"So, you were a puppet, an unwilling participant in a much larger scheme?"

Fudge frowned.

"Larger scheme?"

"The current issues your country is facing," the Italian answered. "The werewolves, the giants and rumours of the return of your most recent Dark Lord."

"LIES!" Fudge roared. "He is not back."

"Perhaps he is not," the Italian conceded calmly, "that is not our concern, but the danger your people have been put in due to your negligence is. There is no doubt in my mind that you are responsible for this, even if you were not a willing participant. There is much to be said for fools and you are one of the biggest I have met. It is clear to me that you do not care for your people, the appointment of your former Senior Undersecretary as a Professor will attest to that."

The other representatives murmured their own displeasure.

"Dolores? What does she have to do with this?"

"Dolores is also in our custody," Dumbledore explained. "She was found to be administering illegal punishments to the students, three of whom were subjected to extensive use of a blood quill. She was given the position at your insistence and the approval of the school governors who have all admitted to being coerced by Lucius. Unfortunately for you, Lucius is dead so it will be you alone that will receive the punishment for your part in the affair."

"I didn't know," Fudge protested weakly.

"Yet, you did insist upon her appointment without the correct checks being carried out," Dumbledore returned angrily. "Never in all my years as a Professor nor Headmaster have I had such an incident. It shames me that I did not become aware of it sooner."

"Not that the Minister would have done anything about it," Sebastien defended. "Time and time again, Madame Umbridge was proven to be unfit for her position and Mr Fudge defended her at every turn."

"I would not have allowed the children to be treated in such a way!"

"But it happened, Cornelius, and it took place under your watch along with my own," Dumbledore replied.

Fudge could only stare at Dumbledore, his mouth agape.

"With the charges against you brought forward and the evidence produced, do you have anything else to say for yourself?" the Supreme Mugwump questioned.

Fudge hung his head and shook it.

"None of what I did was intentional. I did what I thought was best for the people. After the war was concluded, I felt that the funds taken would be better used elsewhere. I will not be labelled a cruel man when I am not, but I admit I was perhaps remiss in my duties by not remedying the changes I made," he conceded. "When it comes to Dolores, I can only apologise for my part in having her placed at the school. I would never sit idly by when any child was harmed. That is the only defence I have to offer, and I hope that you can see the truth of my words. I am a negligent fool but not an evil one and will accept what punishment you deem worthy."

"Very well, we will take a brief recess to discuss your future, Mr Fudge," the Supreme Mugwump announced.

Fudge nodded as he was escorted from the room, his posture holding none of the bravado he had first entered with when the proceeding had begun a few days prior.

The deliberation was not a heated discussion, most in agreement with what Dumbledore himself suggested as a suitable punishment with only a few addendums. When they were done, the guard was instructed to bring Fudge in once more.

As the Minister stood there, it was easy to see that he was little more than a bumbling fool who had believed himself beyond the reach of any, that he could do as he pleased and face no repercussions. Now, he would learn the truth of his folly.

"Cornelius Oswald Fudge, having deliberated amongst us, you have been found guilty of misappropriation of Ministry funds and negligence in your duty to the people of wizarding Britain. The charges of neglect towards vulnerable members of wizarding Britain have been dismissed. We do not believe that you maliciously allowed or were aware of Madame Umbridge's actions. However, you must be held accountable for your own."

Fudge nodded, evidently relieved that the latter charges had been dropped.

"You are hereby stripped of your position as Minister of Magic," the Supreme Mugwump announced. "Furthermore, you are sentenced to five years in prison where you will be held in Kenya as agreed by us. You are very fortunate that we are not holding you responsible for paying the missing funds back. They will be collected from the Malfoy vaults and returned to the British Ministry. Consider yourself lucky that we believe you only to be a fool and little more."

Fudge deflated as he was led silently from the room to be transported directly to his new home for the coming years.

"Bring in Madame Umbridge!" the Supreme Mugwump instructed as he finished scratching away with his quill, finalising the given sentence.

Sebastien's jaw clenched as the squat woman was presented to them, her fate undoubtedly less pleasant than that of her former employer's.

(Break)

It was early evening at the Delacour home when Harry found himself walking the grounds with Fleur, his meeting with the newly appointed Minister and Madame Bones having been concluded some hours prior. An agreement had been reached between the trio, though not one favoured the ministry representatives. There was a risk to it, but Harry could think of no better opportunity to put an end to the man that had plagued him for so long.

It would be a somewhat poetic ending regardless of who emerged the victor, almost as though fate itself had penned it.

"You know that I will never like it, 'Arry, but I understand," Fleur said in just above a whisper.

He nodded. She was not happy, but she had accepted what he intended to do.

"I suppose we can only hope that fate would see me come out of this on the other side."

Fleur frowned as she shook her head.

"I will not rest my 'opes on fate, 'Arry. I 'ave faith in you because I 'ave to believe that you are better than 'im. I do believe you are better than 'im."

He smiled and pulled her into his arms.

"Then I will have to be."

She nodded against his chest.

"I never thought that the tournament would change my life so much," she sighed. "I only wanted to go for the chance to compete, to give myself opportunities I would not get without it. I suppose fate works in strange ways, non?"

"It does," he agreed, his own thoughts turning to how his life had changed over the past year. "We are very different people now. You were so stiff it was like you had a wand shoved up your bum."

Fleur narrowed her eyes at him.

"You are one to talk," she snorted. "You were a grumpy, surly boy."

"Oi, I think you'll find that I am just as grumpy and surly as I always was!"

She giggled as she shook her head.

"Non, 'Arry, you are not," she denied, extracting herself from his embrace and taking his hands in her own. "You are the sweetest and kindest person I 'ave ever met, even if you do not want anyone else to see it. I 'ave seen it, 'Arry and that is one of the reasons I fell in love with you. The only difference is that you don't always look sad anymore. I like to think I played a part in that."

"I looked sad?" he questioned, a light frown marring his features.

She nodded and released a deep breath.

"It was 'ard to miss, everyone commented on it," she explained. "You always looked as though you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. It turns out that you are, but you are 'appier now, aren't you?"

He took a moment to ponder just how much his life had changed since the beginning of his fourth year of Hogwarts. He had been entered in a tournament that could have killed him, Voldemort had returned and killed Tom, he had been put on trial for a crime he had not committed, and he'd had to endure Umbridge. Such thoughts did not paint a picture of contentment, so he turned to the others, the ones that he held dear.

He had met Fleur and the rest of her family, he had finished his OWLs and NEWTs, had forged a better relationship with his godfather and even got the closure he needed by visiting his parent's graves. He had come into his own, had found things worth fighting for and people he cared for that cared for him too.

He nodded thoughtfully, warmed by those changes, especially the one stood before him waiting for him to speak.

"Maybe I didn't have reasons to be happy before," he conceded, "and I suppose you may have something to do with it," he added with a grin.

Fleur raised an eyebrow at him.

"Just something, 'Arry?"

"It all started with you," he admitted. "You were a pain in the arse at times, but it was never going to be so easy for us. Maybe when he's dead that can change."

"It already 'as," Fleur mumbled as she pressed her lips against his.

They were interrupted by a loud clearing of the throat and the two of them broke apart to be greeted by a smirking Sebastien.

"I do 'ope that you are not manhandling poor 'Arry, my little flower," he chuckled.

"Papa!" Fleur returned, aghast by the insinuation.

Sebastien continued laughing as he held his hands up.

"I was joking," he placated. "I just thought that you would like to see what 'appened to Madame Umbridge today."

They both nodded and followed Sebastien when he gestured for them to do so.

"What about Fudge?" Harry asked as they made their way towards the house.

Sebastien shook his head.

"The man was an idiot, 'Arry, a clueless one and he will pay the price for it. He 'as gone to prison for five years for 'is foolishness. Madame Umbridge on the other 'and did not get such a lenient sentence, as you will see."

He led to his personal study where he retrieved the pensieve before removing the memory with the tip of his wand against his temple. When it was in the bowl, he nodded for them to enter.

The room they found themselves in was reminiscent of the chambers used for the Wizengamot meetings. There was a podium in the centre of the stands where the representatives of each country would sit, their places symbolised by a small flag of where they were from.

They arrived just in time to see a dejected Cornelius Fudge being escorted out of the room and Harry shot him a glare, though the man was unaware and could not see it.

" Bring in Madame Umbridge."

It was odd how the loathing the men and women of the ICW felt towards her radiated throughout the room. The atmosphere became suddenly tense and their stares bored into her, each of them wishing her ill.

Umbridge herself was pale, her eyes hollow likely from the lack of sleep she had experienced. It did not appear as though she had been treated well during her time here and it was evident that she was close to breaking point.

Perhaps this is what the representatives wanted; to see her true nature and not the false sweetness she displayed in front of her betters and superiors.

" Madame Umbridge, you stand accused of the following charges; inflicting harm upon vulnerable citizens of wizarding Britain, possessing illegal magical implements and using said items to torture your victims," an Asian man behind the podium explained. "Do you have any further defence to offer?"

Umbridge looked towards the man, her eyes narrowed in unfettered fury.

" I have done nothing wrong!"

Looks and words of disgust and outrage met her defiance and the man seemingly leading the proceedings crashed his gavel against the top of the podium.

" Having reviewed and discussed the charges brought against you, we find you guilty of each. You will be held under the responsibility of the representative of Russia, your wand will be snapped, and the duration spent is life. You will never live another day of freedom. You acted deplorably, with intent and without remorse. Any wealth you possess will be divided amongst your three victims as compensation. Get her out of my sight!"

Umbridge had seemingly been shocked into silence, though as she was frogmarched from the room by the guards, she unleashed an almighty screech.

" THIS IS NOT THE END OF THIS! I AM DOLORES JANE UMBRIDGE, SENIOR UNDERSECRETARY TO THE MINISTER OF M…"

She fell silent as one of the guards struck a heavy blow at the nape of her neck, both failing to catch her before her face smashed into the stone floor."

It was as her limp form was dragged away that they were pulled from the pensieve and both wore matching grins of triumph.

"She got exactly what she deserved," Fleur declared.

Harry nodded his agreement, though he wished he could have taken some personal vengeance against her. However, he was content that she could no longer harm anyone or would never have to endure her presence again.

"What remains of 'er life will not be pleasant," Sebastien assured them. "The ICW does not take kindly to what she 'as done, and she will be horribly punished. I do not expect she will last the year."

"No less than she deserves," Harry replied callously.

"Non, it is not," Sebastien concurred as Fleur nodded her head also.

(Break)

The wait was not something he was familiar with. During the last war, it was the guerrilla tactics of the Death Eaters he'd had to contend with, sudden and random bursts of violence that he and the order had reacted to. They'd had to be ready at a second's notice, everything done in the heat of the moment.

Even when he had confronted Gellert, it was not something he had pondered much. That too had been a sudden and somewhat impromptu altercation. This, however, was different, the tension not something he found himself relishing.

Harry had explained his plan to him, a sound one and likely their best chance to deal with Tom and his followers in one fell swoop, but not one without risks. Harry would be in great danger until the right moment arrived and it was down to the headmaster to ensure the needed action was taken swiftly. Much counted on that.

He sighed as he stepped away from his pensieve. Throughout the past weeks, he had worked with the boy, given him some tips on how Voldemort could be combatted. It was not much, though he suspected Harry didn't truly need his help. He gave it nonetheless, his own efforts offering him a semblance of comfort that he had not been remiss in imparting any wisdom that could prove to be useful.

Harry had been grateful, his eyes alight with joy at learning spells that the older man had shared with none. Some were merely obscure ones that had been lost to time, others, of his own creation.

His musings were interrupted as the door to his office swung open and a very pale and nervous Severus entered.

"It's time," he announced. "The Dark Lord's plan will begin with the hour."

Dumbledore nodded as he fired off a patronus and popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth, a gesture to busy himself with rather than his enjoyment of the bittersweet confection.

"Then we should ready ourselves, my boy. Are you ready for what needs to be done?"

Severus offered only a single nod as the headmaster took a seat behind his desk and stroked the plumage of his familiar.

The wait would soon be over, and for that, the old man was grateful.

(Break)

"If the worst does happen, I'd like to think that you will visit her to make sure she is okay," he whispered as he ran his hand over the scales of her nose.

Serana had not taken the news well that he was going to be confronting a dangerous enemy. She had all but begged and pleaded him not to do it. In her mind, there was no need to endanger himself. Though a thousand years old, she was still a base creature that thought only of food, mating and protecting her nest. She could not comprehend the thought of him leaving the nest to seek a fight.

He had not expected such emotion from her, not the amount of concern she showed. She had worked herself up so much that she had fallen asleep as he comforted her, a final, pleading hiss being her final offering before she began slumbering.

"You do not even 'ave to ask," Fleur replied, the hand that was not gripping his own tracing circles around one of Serana's nostrils.

He nodded gratefully as his gaze swept across the expanse of his land. Even with what was coming, he felt at peace here. This was is escape from the world, a place where only one person could find him. Here, he could be alone and forget the outside world.

He hoped to see it again when all was said and done.

"You will not die, 'Arry. The world is not finished with you yet."

He snorted amusedly.

"No, I don't think it is," he mused aloud. "I like to think that I have not endured all I have for it all to end before it has begun. Life is cruel but even that must have its limits."

Fleur nodded.

"There is that and that you 'ave something to fight for. You 'ave me and everybody else that cares for you, but you also 'ave Tom. When you win, he will 'ave the peace you want for 'im."

"So will I," he returned, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Besides, I have all those bedrooms to fill up. I can't go anywhere until that is done."

She swatted at his shoulder playfully, shaking her head as she giggled.

"You need to be serious, 'Arry," she chided.

"I am," he replied. "I will not allow my family name to come to an end because of him. He has already taken too much from me and I will not allow him to take anymore."

"Are you not scared?"

He swallowed deeply as he nodded.

"I have never been more terrified of anything in my life," he admitted. "I'm not scared of him but what would happen if I don't win. I have been working towards this since I was seven. Everything I have done has led to this. There have been some unexpected surprises on the way, but I have remained diligent. Even with Tom gone and you here, nothing has changed other than I have something more real to fight for. As much as I cared for and miss him, I could never have had a normal life with him. He said as much himself. I lost him but got you."

"You did," she said with a smile.

"A flower for the soul," he muttered.

She offered him a questioning look and he shrugged.

"It's the way I think of it. It helps, I suppose," he replied, a light frown creasing his brow. "I lost him, someone I thought I could not be without, but I got you, someone I need more than him. He taught me all he could, all I needed to know, and he moved on. Without him, maybe I would have lost myself if you weren't there. You've kept me grounded when I needed it most and given me something to fight for. That's the difference between me and him. He has nothing other than his ego and foolish ambition. I have dreams that I want to make come true, people I want to protect and more to live for. That's why I will win."

Fleur nodded as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"That doesn't stop me being scared, 'Arry."

"Me either but it counts for something."

"It does," she sighed.

They sat that way for some time, simply enjoying the peace before it would inevitably be disturbed.

It came only a few moments later in the form of a phoenix patronus. Harry stiffened at its arrival and it spoke in the voice of the headmaster.

"It is time, Harry."

Such a trivial sentence brought the reality of what was about to happen crashing down, the peace all but shattered as he stood with Fleur clinging tightly to his arm.

"You know what to do," he said.

She nodded and placed a searing kiss on his lips, her eyes full of the words she could not bring herself to speak as she broke away and vanished via the portkey he had prepared for the occasion.

When he was alone, he took everything around him in a final time before he too activated his own portkey and arrived at the gates of Hogwarts, the distant sounds of the attack on the village having already begun. He ignored them knowing that the situation was well in hand.

With little time to spare, he rushed towards the headmaster's office, his path unhindered at the late hour and he arrived only a few moments later where he was greeted by the sight of Dumbledore and an uncharacteristically nervous Severus Snape.

"I must ask, Harry. Before we proceed, are you sure this is the path you wish to take? I cannot help but feel the risk is too great," the headmaster said worriedly.

Harry nodded as he turned his attention to Snape.

"This is the only way it will work. If all else fails, you will need to maintain your position with him, so, let's get on with it."

Severus nodded reluctantly as he held out a hand in which Harry placed his holly wand. With a flick of his own, the teen found himself bound tightly by the wrists behind his back. Not so tight that he wouldn't be able to act when needed, but tight enough to be convincing.

Seeing the potions master hesitate, he sighed.

"Bloody hell, come on Snape," he urged. "Just think of how much you despised my father and do it!"

Snape shook his head.

"I c-can't, it's the eyes," he mumbled.

Harry released a deep breath of frustration as he closed them.

"Come on! Just hit me, Snivellus."

He didn't want to be punched, not truly, but it needed to look authentic. If Voldemort suspected foul play, all his efforts would be for nothing. He needed to feel in control.

His head rung as the first blow landed on his jaw and Snape gripped the front of his robes to prevent him from falling as another three punches followed.

As the hold was released, he spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor, nodding satisfactorily.

"I'm fine," he assured them.

He had taken worse beatings from Vernon and had no help after. This time, however, he need not suffer the bruising, swelling and bleeding for long. When he was ready, it would be gone.

"Now, take me to him."

Snape complied. With a wave of his wand, his mask was in place and the two of them were pulled from the headmaster's office to where the burden's Harry carried would either be lifted or crush him under its overwhelming weight.

(Break)

"KEEP PUSHING THEM BACK," Amelia shouted as she set fire to a tree one of the giants was attempting to uproot.

It unleashed a guttural roar of pain and fury as its skin was horribly burned by the flames.

The dozen behemoths would break through eventually, but they needed to be held off as long as possible with minimal casualties to her team, of course. If she had her way, she would simply allow them to pass and fall into the trap, but Potter needed time and it was her job to ensure he had it.

Although few Death Eaters had accompanied the giants and dementors to Hogsmeade, there was enough here to make the difference should she act too soon. No, they needed to be kept occupied and the Dark Lord needed to be under the illusion his victory was all but assured.

Feeling another wave of cold wash over her, she prepared herself to rebuff the Dementors once more, those she had chosen for this task having been kept close by, their collective effort proving too difficult for the foul creatures to overcome thus far.

The aurors would not be able to fend them off this way indefinitely but it was all they could do to keep them out of the fray and cause mass chaos amongst her ranks who were defending themselves from the Death Eaters and marauding giants.

"PATRONUSES," she called.

The men and women around her readied themselves, waiting for when the cloaked figures descended upon them from all sides.

"NOW!"

Just over twenty ethereal creatures burst forth and sent them scattering with the sounds of shrieking signifying their success. The aurors cheered as the cloaked figures fled but Amelia remained stony-faced knowing that they would only return when they had regrouped.

Until then, she had much to occupy her time and she turned her attention to the giant with the burnt hands and conjured a large chain before banishing it towards the beast's ankles.

Though it was strong, it did not hold and broke as he took a step forward causing Amelia to frown.

She hated fighting giants. They were notoriously difficult to bring down, resistant to magic and determined. She did not know what the Dark Lord had promised them, but it was enough to spur them to the incessant frenzy they were in.

Still, she would much rather deal with giants than face Him. She had seen what he was capable of in the previous war and had no desire to find herself facing down the shaft of his wand.

She only knew of three that had done so and lived; Dumbledore and Moody were exceptional wizards, the two of them having fought and survived the man, though the latter not escaping unscathed. Voldemort had taken his leg for his troubles and Alastor had told them often of just how dangerous the man was.

Potter on the other hand, was like neither Dumbledore nor the veteran auror. He was young and she could not help but feel out of his depth, but she had to believe in him as he did himself.

It would not do well to doubt him now, not when the inevitable was happening around her and he was all that stood between them and what happened next.

(Break)

"You have done well, Severus," the Dark Lord praised as his crimson eyes burned into Harry's blackened ones. "How are our allies faring in Hogsmeade?"

"Well, my lord," Snape answered. "The aurors are there in force as expected so you will not be disturbed. Their resistance is as pitiful as you believed it would be."

The Dark Lord nodded as he grinned victoriously.

"Then leave us," he commanded. "Potter and I have unfinished business to attend to."

With a bow, the potions master did so, the sound of his footsteps retreating the only thing breaking the tense silence within the large room Harry found himself in.

He took it in, the towering shelves on either side of him, each lined with hundreds of glass orbs that glowed eerily in the darkened room.

"You must have known it would one day come to this, Harry," Voldemort muttered almost apologetically. "I underestimated you. At every turn, you have hindered me, but it could not last. It was inevitable that we would meet, where you could no longer fight me from the shadows, that we would be forced to face one another," he added, removing one of the orbs from its shelf. "It is written in the stars, after all."

Harry said nothing as his tongue worked loose the false tooth that Snape had created for him. As unpleasant as the man was, he truly was an exquisite potioneer. The creation was a series of concentrated potions that would undo the damage the physical assault had done; a pain reliever, a blood replenisher and a concoction that would reduce the bruising and swelling, all encapsulated in a make-shift dental implant.

"Most would deem such magic as foolish only because they do not understand it nor do they possess the gift of it," Voldemort said thoughtfully. "I do not possess the gift, but I learnt many years ago not to dismiss what you do not understand. Not all magic is supposed to be understood but it should not be ignored. It is folly to do so."

Harry snorted derisively and the Dark Lord scowled at him.

"You doubt me, Harry," he stated.

"No," Harry replied shaking his head, "but it is more likely that your view on it is what has made everything come to pass. A prophecy is just a prophecy until someone decides to fulfil it. Perhaps many come to fruition without knowledge of them, but you only acted against me because you learned of it. Have you not considered that doing so is what compelled you to seek it out? Had you ignored it, what are the chances that we would be here now?"

Voldemort frowned and nodded after a moment.

"You have a rather brilliant mind, Harry," he complimented, "but the words of Dumbledore mean nothing to me. The man is a fool who cannot see past his own morals."

"Dumbledore has not spoken to me of the prophecy," Harry denied. "Those words are from someone much wiser than you, someone who learned from the errors he made, something you do not have in common."

Voldemort smirked.

"Oh, I learn from my errors, Harry and that is how you find yourself in your current position. I would not be foolish enough to fall for your trickery again. That is why I have your wand and you are bound," he pointed out. "Now, enough of the ceremony, let us hear just what fate has in store for us. I respect you enough for us both to learn just why it is you cannot live anymore."

He allowed the orb to fall from his grip where it shattered on the hard floor. Both remained quiet as the ghostly figure emerged and began to speak the words of many years passed:

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

Neither said anything for some time as they absorbed the entirety of the prophecy. Voldemort wore a look of confusion, his eyes flitting between Harry and the shards of glass that remained. He suddenly laughed and wiped away an imaginary tear.

"You are very good, Harry, but you could never hope to be my equal."

"No," Harry disagreed, "I became better than you, Riddle."

The laughter stopped and the man tutted after another moment of staring at him.

"You have become cocky," he chided, "the folly of youth. I admit, you have been one step ahead of me at every turn thus far but look where you find yourself now."

It was Harry's turn to laugh and he did so heartily.

"I would say I have been at least six steps ahead of you. I only wish I could have been there when you learned your Horcruxes were gone, Riddle."

The crimson eyes narrowed as the Dark Lord attempted to maintain his composure.

"Bellatrix will pay for betraying me."

Harry shook his head.

"You still don't get it, do you, Riddle."

Voldemort sighed.

"Harry, if you must refer to me using the filthy name my pathetic mother gave me, have the courtesy of using the first one. We have been through too much together to not at least afford each other civility. It is Tom, Harry, but I am sure you already know that."

Harry's jaw clenched as his own anger began to bubble. Hearing the name come from him infuriated him but he swallowed down his rage. It was not quite time to act.

"Whatever was left of Tom within you died long ago," he returned.

Voldemort frowned questioningly, confused by the outburst.

"Bellatrix didn't betray you, not really," Harry continued, unable to fight the grin that formed. "You betrayed yourself and it all began with that prophecy."

"I did what was needed to succeed," the Dark Lord spat.

"And by doing so, you made me what I am," Harry chuckled. "The night you attacked my home, your curse reflected back onto you. How that happened, I don't understand, but I did not escape as unscathed as people believed. A piece of your broken soul was left behind, and it attached itself to me. It wasn't intentional, of course, but with your actions you gave me all I needed to destroy you. How else could I have found out about your Horcruxes?"

Voldemort was confused and Harry did not have the patience to wait for the realisation to hit.

"I was seven when you first spoke to me. I didn't know at the time it was you but how was I to know that a man that called himself Tom was the very same one that killed my parents?" he asked rhetorically, enjoying the look of shock that adorned his foe. "He grew to care for me and did all he could to help destroy you. He learnt from the mistakes he made, the steps he had taken to become you and wanted nothing more than for me to live. It's quite poetic really when you think about it; you are responsible for your own downfall."

"You lie," Voldemort accused.

"Why would I? I wish I could take all the credit for this, but you have yourself to thank for it. You marked me as your equal and gave me exactly what I needed and all because of your own self-induced paranoia. I would never have been a threat to you, not until you made it so. The best part of you is gone and all that remains is what I see before me."

"NO! I WAS WEAK AND WAS NOTHING UNTIL I BECAME WHAT I AM," the Dark Lord shouted.

"You are a coward, and so was Tom," Harry returned. "He became Voldemort because he was not brave enough to be himself. It was his biggest regret, but he made up for it. He shaped me into something better than you could hope to be, taught me everything I needed to know about you. I know you better than you know yourself, and that is why we are here; because I decided now was the time. You're still a coward."

"I am not a coward."

"You're afraid of me," Harry countered. "If you weren't, you would have come alone and not have need of the Death Eaters you brought along. I can feel them around us, waiting to rescue you if you need it. You truly are predictable."

"I do not fear you, Potter…"

"Then you are more foolish than even Tom believed."

Before Voldemort could respond, he had bitten down on the loosened tooth and slid the elder wand into his hand. He activated the wards he had placed around the Ministry building, distracting his enemy.

"WE HAVE BEEN DISCOVERED, GO!" the Dark Lord instructed.

Harry had not been idle. He had undone his bindings and as Voldemort turned his attention back to him, it was to the sight of the shelves either side collapsing between them, the sound of breaking glass, splintering wood and a scream of anger blurring together in the aftermath.

The respite he received was little more than a few seconds as the debris were swept aside carelessly and he once more found himself face to face with an irate Dark Lord.

No further words were exchanged between them and a trio of spells were sent his way, though easily sidestepped with only one needing to be redirected.

" He is dangerous, Harry, never doubt that, but less so when he is angry. He will become erratic when he loses his composure. Use it against him," the words of his mentor played over in his mind.

Harry offered Voldemort a smug grin as he backed away knowing he would be unable to resist following.

Voldemort did as expected and fired off another string of curses with none finding the mark. Harry simply batted the offerings aside before returning the favour with a rupturing curse, a blinding hex and a rather unpleasant tongue shredding hex he had found in the Black family grimoire.

His spells too were intercepted, though he had accounted for this.

As Voldemort swung his own wand down in a deliberate arc, he turned his head as an enormous wave created from the floor descended on him and he abandoned his spell to deal with the new threat.

He had reacted too slowly, and it washed over him before dragging him backwards as it receded with the man giving a shout of surprise. His impromptu journey would not last long, and as Harry made it to the exit, the sound of exploding stone could be heard signifying the Dark Lord's escape.

Harry made his own, barely. He slammed the door on the half dozen spells that had been sent his way and found himself facing the most uncertain part of his undertaking.

He did not know the Department of Mysteries and needed to navigate his way out. Thankfully, the room he was in that contained an assortment of magical oddities, only had one other door and he shot past what appeared to be a brain in a large jar as he pushed himself through to the next room, with Voldemort only a short distance behind him.

Another spell courtesy of the man passed by his ear, closely enough that it got his attention and he turned, the room he now found himself in appearing to be a large chamber.

A loud bang sounded behind him, but he ignored it in favour of facing the pale, cloaked figure approaching him.

"My Lord! They are coming," a voice shouted from above.

Harry took the opportunity to circle away so that none could attack him from behind.

"Hold the door, you fools," Voldemort seethed, not deigning his followers with even a glance, his gaze fixed on Harry who sprang into action as did his foe.

The duo exchanged spell after spell, dodging, shielding and directing the magic of the other away when necessary, neither gaining the upper hand. Voldemort's anger had yet to abate and Harry needed to weather the first onslaught. He managed to do so with considerable effort on his part.

Another bang sounded, followed by a shriek as one of the Death Eaters was propelled away from the door, the snapping of his bones echoing throughout the room as he tumbled down the length of the stone steps.

Despite this, the door held firm and Voldemort turned his attention back to Harry and released a deep breath.

"Your form is impeccable," he conceded, "and your spell work is enviable, but you are not me, Harry. You will never be ready for what I am capable of."

" When he realises his anger is hindering him, he will calm himself and will become more methodical. This is merely the calm before the storm. Here, he is much more dangerous, and you must be as creative with your magic as him. Do not worry, Harry, you will be ready when the time comes," the words Tom spoke to his thirteen-year-old self, calming him somewhat.

Deciding that he did not want to find himself on the backfoot, he fired a blasting curse towards the stone ceiling above, the resulting explosion causing chunks of rock to begin raining down around them.

Both swept their wands across their bodies at the same time, drawing some of the leavings towards them. In unison, they banished them towards each other, with Harry transfiguring his into crude knives and Voldemort his own into axes.

The hewn weapons collided in mid-air, some cracking and others being reduced to dust from the impact.

With a flick of his wand, the powdered residue was transfigured into two, hardened hands that lunged towards a surprised Voldemort who erected a shield which the hands dissipated against before they could reach him.

With a flaring of his serpentine nostrils, he conjured a ball of blue flame in his hand and hurled it towards the teen. Harry ducked and sent his own stream of fire towards the Dark Lord, only to roll to his side as he felt the heat of the returning magic close in.

The blue, fiery snake that had formed missed him by only an inch but immediately spun to strike at him once more as the Dark Lord laughed jubilantly.

With a growl, Harry whipped his wand upwards and sent his assailant spinning towards his foe, who halted the magic with a golden shield. With only a second to respond, the younger combatant conjured his own, molten beast which set upon its blue counterpart, allowing Harry to continue with his efforts.

Twirling his wand, he manipulated the floor around Voldemort's feet, and it began to sink, pulling the Dark Lord with it. The spell, however, was stilled and the man scrambled away from the abyss, having to duck and block a trio of spells that Harry sent his way.

Buying himself some time, Voldemort sent a rebuttal. and his spell smashed against the edge of the hole. A large crack began to splinter the floor, a sizable crevice opening between the creation and the boy. The Dark Lord found himself frustrated as his effort was for naught and he sent another spell, this one sinking into the hole as Potter dived to avoid being swallowed, only for a triumphant grin to form as a purple fire erupted from within, sending the boy rolling further across the floor.

The grin morphed into a hard line as he realised his fire had failed to even singe his enemy. Potter had shot immediately to his feet and turned his attention to the fire.

The Dark Lord looked on curiously as his flames were torn away and sent towards the back of his Death Eaters, who were doing their utmost to stop whoever was attempting to breach the door from doing so.

"NO!"

He breathed a sigh of relief as one of his followers sense the incoming danger and erected a strong shield, Antonin, undoubtedly. Only he was strong enough and had the know-how to counter the spell.

Nonetheless, the force of the magic sent his followers sprawling, and in the split-second his focus had been lost, Potter had acted. He too found himself sliding across the stone floor, the rough surface opening several cuts across his back, arms and legs, the spell he had been hit with leaving his chest horribly burned.

It was the best the boy could do with the given time and he had taken full advantage of it. The smell of his own seared flesh and the smirk the boy wore sent him over the edge, and he pushed himself to his feet, his wand moving in a blur with little more in mind than destroying Potter.

Harry again found himself on the defensive, his wand movements efficient and dodging purposeful.

" When you manage to hit him with a spell, he will become furious beyond reason, his mind warped by all the rituals, Horcruxes and dark magic he has used taking over. He is at his most dangerous here, but also, his most vulnerable. You must fight back, Harry. He will do all he can to overwhelm you and you must not let him. If he seizes an advantage, I can see no way that you can come back from it. It will be like nothing you have ever seen before and it is then you must truly match him. Use everything I have taught you, reap the benefits of your own rituals and you will defeat him."

It was not often he did so, but he allowed his magic to flow freely throughout him. The runes he had carved into his flesh over the past years began to glow ominously, everything around him seemingly moving slower.

He dodged a killing curse, two cutting curses and an organ liquifying curse, the first passing by his shoulder as he dived between the following three. Landing on his feet, he struck out with his own, the four spells that left his wand leaving the Dark Lord in no doubt that he had finally met his match.

His crimson eyes widened as they crashed against his hastily erected shield, each offering sending him back a foot or so from the sheer force behind him.

None had ever been able to withstand him so long, not until now.

Harry merely continued with his onslaught, determined that the time for Voldemort to die was finally upon him.

(Break)

She was the first through the door when it was forced open, shoving the members of the Order aside just so she could get a glimpse of Harry. He was there, squaring off with Voldemort in the centre of the room, the devastation wrought between them a sight to behold. A short distance away, two fiery, enormous serpents were in the throes of a fight of their own but her eyes were transfixed on the battle between the wizards, her head shaking as both cast with impossible speed, the magic they were throwing around deadly to any who dared get too close.

"Come on, girl, now isn't the time," a voice growled as he barged past her and engaged a masked figure that had scrambled to their feet.

She felt herself pulled to the side, a spell crashing into the floor where she had been standing.

" You need to pay attention, Fleur," her father urged. "Do not worry, 'Arry can handle himself."

Nodding to herself, she replayed the plan Harry had concocted and sent off her patronus. When she was satisfied it was gone, she turned her attention to the task at hand and felled a cloaked figure attempting to curse a pink-haired woman from behind.

He collapsed to the ground with a scream, her charm rupturing both of his kidneys. He would die if he did not get the help he needed, but it would be a slow death, the fighting here likely concluded by then.

"Nice one, Frenchy," Sirius praised from nearby as he blocked a spell aimed towards him. "Let's have a few more of them and they'll be buggered."

The man was having too much fun in her opinion. Perhaps the madness that was said to plague his family was unavoidable after all. The werewolf that stood by his side shook his head, seemingly much more focused than his childhood friend.

Though they were doing well, she could not help but notice that there were more Death Eaters here than they had expected. Harry had guessed Voldemort would only bring a handful, his most trusted allies. He had brought closer to a few dozen, outnumbering them by quite the margin.

As such, she soon found herself fending off an attack from two figures in robes, one much taller than her and the other shorter. The two worked well in tandem, but their wand work was sloppy, the spells inaccurate and they were unable to keep up with her.

With a well-placed piercing hex, the shorter of the two dropped their wand, their hand instinctively gripping the now bleeding shoulder.

Her other attacker snarled angrily, doubling his effort to put an end to her.

"You filthy whore," he spat as he sent a rather dark severing hex towards her.

Fleur ignored his jab in favour of defending herself from the lethal spell, a wave of her wand conjuring a shield that sent it back towards him.

He gurgled morbidly as it connected, his own defence not quick enough to prevent it cutting deeply into his throat.

She grimaced at the sight of the blood oozing between his gloved fingers and turned away not needing to see anymore to know that he would soon breath his last.

Using the respite to take in her surroundings, she could see that the fight was not so favourable. Two crumpled forms not clad in dark robes or a mask were motionless on the floor and the rest of the Order were still considerably outnumbered.

Her eyes drifted to the door they had entered only moments ago, and she wondered if something had gone amiss elsewhere. There should be more of them by now, enough to even the odds that had been unexpectedly stacked against them.

(Break)

The giants had edged ever closer towards them, the effort to hold them at bay slowly becoming too much and she hoped beyond hope that the signal would arrive soon. Her aurors were lagging, four had already been killed and several others injured from their efforts. She too had come close to being struck down by a killing curse courtesy of a Death Eater that had snuck up on them.

She breathed a sigh of relief as a white glow appeared in front of her, the owl as unfamiliar as the accented voice that spoke, but it spurred her into action.

" We're in."

"STEADY YOURSELVES," she shouted.

The aurors stopped firing spells and the giants charged forward, clearing the short, remaining difference between them and the people preventing the attack on the village.

"NOW!"

She conjured her own shield and gave a cursory glance towards her team to ensure they had done the same. Seeing that the were covered, she activated the traps, ignoring the steadily creeping in cold.

Several explosions rent the air and the sound of whistling projectiles could be heard above the din, though they were drowned out by the almighty roars of agony that followed.

One by one, thuds could be head and the ground beneath them trembled.

Amelia counted them in her head and when she reached twelve, she dropped her shield, her breath hitching in her chest at the sight of the fallen giants surrounding them, each having been impaled by a plethora of spears, arrows and other bladed weapons.

"DEMENTORS!"

She quickly added her patronus to the mix, the aurors needing just one final push to drive the creatures away. When they had left with a final shriek of defiance, an uproarious cheer went up as they celebrated their feat.

"I must go," a desperate voice sounded in her ear.

She turned to look into the concerned eyes of Dumbledore, the man having been there to support them in their hour of need. Without his patronus, the dementors would have proven to be much more difficult to handle than they had been. His help had been invaluable, even if was not where he wanted to be. He had been needed here, however, and he knew it deep down.

"Go," she urged, once more surveying what remained of the Dark Lord's forces.

Whatever Death Eaters had been here had either fled or lay amongst the fallen. A few of the giants had not quite succumbed to their wounds, but her aurors were dealing with those.

Her thoughts once more turned to the boy she was relying on to put an end to this. If he was to fail, this would have been for nothing and the Dark Lord would retreat, only to return again one day.

(Break)

In the moments between casting her patronus and where she found herself now, the numbers of the Death Eaters were proving to an insurmountable obstacle. She could only defend herself from the spells sent her way by the opposing side as they had regrouped and formed small pockets of resistance.

They were working well together, the members of each shielding whilst the other two sent spell after spell towards the less organised Order members.

She could not help but think that they too should be fighting in a similar fashion. Remus and Sirius stood side by side defending one another when needed, as did the pink-haired auror and her dark-skinned colleague. The rest were little more than a shambles, their individual efforts unable to break through the death eater defences and their own barely enough when they themselves came under attack.

It was only a matter of time before someone would get hurt and the sound of a pained shout only a few feet to her left told of the reality of her thoughts.

It was as though the world around her came to a standstill as her father fell, a gout of blood spraying from his chest where it had been torn open. Even when he was down, it continued to flow freely and she felt herself rooted to the spot, helpless to stop it.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a man limp to her father and crouch down next to him, followed by the two aurors, the woman speaking words to her that she did not hear.

She glanced up towards the door a final time as Dumbledore entered with his wand drawn, but it was too late. The other side of her had already broken free and she felt her face elongate as an avian screech pierced the air.

It was an odd feeling accepting it. It was as though her other side had taken all her fury and made it its own. She watched through her own eyes as a spectator as the ground became further away, the warmth of the fire she conjured comforting for her but not those she hurled it towards.

A group of Death Eaters were engulfed in flame and she unleashed a squawk of triumph as ball after ball was unleashed upon them, her only coherent thought being to harm those that had done so to her father.

The spells sent her way were easily avoided, her grace in the air unparalleled and unmatched by their efforts.

Although they were outnumbered, the Death Eaters could not cope under her onslaught and with the arrival of Dumbledore, they were the ones that soon found themselves on the backfoot, doing all they could to prevent themselves being overwhelmed.

Soon enough, they were subdued, some left as smouldering heaps and others taken into custody, not that she got any satisfaction from the latter. She would see them all dead, or was that merely her other side thinking that?

She knew not and her gaze shifted towards the only two people still fighting, the others in the room reluctant to intervene.

She, however, glided closer, only to shriek as a spell came close to hitting her. Without thought, she flew away, putting some distance between herself, Harry and Voldemort.

She would only get hurt if she were to involve herself and even the other side of her knew it. She could only look on as the continued to trade spells, each looking to land the killing blow.

(Break)

Neither would relent. He knew not how long they had been at it, but he nor Voldemort were willing to concede an inch, both fighting with everything they had for everything they wanted. The Dark Lord for his opportunity to bring the wizarding world to heel, and Harry to live, for himself and for those he held dear.

Harry knew that Voldemort would not give in, and he too would show no signs of the fatigue he felt; his ritualistically enhanced body allowing him to match the man spell for spell, however, something had to give.

Voldemort had tried to flee when his Death Eaters had been defeated, only for the wards Harry had placed over the Ministry to prevent him from doing so. He had paid the price for that in the form of a deep gash that lacerated the already burnt skin on his chest.

It oozed a mixture of pus and blood, a flow that would not cease until it was healed. Eventually, it would weaken him and that was what Harry was hoping for.

He had not remained unscathed; an errant spell having cut the shoulder of his left arm to the bone. With every movement, it pulled uncomfortably where he had taken the opportunity to cauterize it with a searing hex.

It would scar horribly but would only be another one to add to the already vast collection.

He ducked under a guillotine curse and animated a trio of fallen Death Eaters before sending them towards Voldemort who cleaved them in half with a dark whip that snapped from the tip of his wand, though, that did not prevent them continuing their advance. The upper half of the corpses continued to crawl towards him, and he took an unsteady step back. Unleashing a gout of water, he froze them in place with another wave of his wand, his breathing becoming laboured.

Harry had no doubt that it was not exhaustion that plagued him, but loss of blood. If Voldemort wished to continue as they were, he would need to risk healing himself, and soon.

He set to work once more waiting for the inevitable and it came only a few moments later, the loss of blood becoming too much of a concern. He readied himself for what was to come and unleashed his spell only a second before Voldemort unleashed his own.

He hissed in pain as the Dark Lord's hit true and he was sent several feet through the air, crashing to the ground.

He closed his eyes as the burning heat passed over him, opening them in time to see Voldemort's own widen in shock as he conjured a shield.

The two melded together serpents crashed into it, collapsing the magical construct that was unable to withstand their attack. Voldemort could only scream in a mixture of fear and raw agony as they consumed him, the final glance Harry getting of the man making him euphoric, despite the pain he was in.

It was over. Voldemort was finally gone, and he could now live his life.

He allowed his head to fall back on to the cold floor and he took a deep breath, acutely aware that Dumbledore was doing all he could to wrest the rampant serpents under control.

"Are you alright, Harry?" the panicked voice of Sirius intruded upon his bliss.

He nodded and sat up, the room around him having been all but demolished. So much so that he was surprised the ceiling had not collapsed on top of them.

"You?" he asked hoarsely.

Sirius nodded and pulled him into his arms.

"You need to get up. She needs you," his godfather mumbled.

Harry frowned as he looked over the man's shoulder.

He could not see Fleur anywhere, but the remaining members of the order, except three who were administering medical attention to another were looking up towards the stone steps with their wands drawn.

Almost mechanically, he stood as he took in the avian creature that was perched at the top, her wings flapping agitatedly as she looked towards him with her yellowed, sad eyes.

He approached; his attention grabbed by the unmoving figure on the floor being tended to by Moody, Tonks and Shacklebolt. It was a face he would never forget, though now it was pale and unmoving. Still, the aurors were doing all they could, and he was needed elsewhere.

Swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, he made his way up the stairs, pausing as Fleur screeched a warning at him.

"You won't hurt me," he whispered when he was only a few feet away.

She shot him a challenging look, but he did not stop.

"You know who I am, and I know you, both of you."

The veela chuffed and shook her head, her eyes flitting between him and her downed father.

"You need to listen to me," he continued gently. "They are doing everything they can for him."

She lunged at him half-heartedly, the yellow of her eyes fading to blue, though she squawked another warning.

Undeterred, he wrapped his arms around her, and she fought him for only a moment before surrendering to his embrace.

"It's okay," he tried, his own words feeling empty as he looked towards Sebastien. "He will be okay."

He did not know if it was himself or her he was trying to convince, but it did little to help either of them.

Sebastien remained still as Moody continued with whatever field healing he had picked up over the years.

"You cannot promise that," Fleur mumbled, her avian features having gone leaving Harry staring into her teary eyes.

"I need a healer," Moody's gruff voice rang out.

Fleur pulled herself from his grip and cleared the stairs in a matter of seconds.

Harry followed quickly, choking on the relief he felt as he saw Sebastien's chest rise with a laboured inhale. He knelt on the opposite side of the man to Fleur and took his hand.

"I knew you would win," he wheezed, his eyes fluttering open as he gripped the teen's hand and offered him a weak smile.

Harry could only shake his head as Fleur chastised the man in French, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks as she relaxed considerably, her worst fear being unanswered.

Harry could only imagine what losing her father would do to her. He had always been there, had done all he could for his family and even him when he had come into his life. Sebastien was one of those he cared deeply for and he was not ready to say goodbye to the man.

"You'll have to move so we can do our job," a pointed and rather rude voice broke in.

"Come on, lad," Moody urged helping him to his feet. "You need to be checked over. He will be fine now."

Harry nodded as he met the twinkling eyes of the headmaster and felt Fleur's hand close around his own.

For what it was worth, his plan had worked, and though he did not know the cost of his victory, it was something he would concern himself with later. All that mattered was that Voldemort was gone, those he cared for were safe and that he had the life he envisioned to look forward to.

His thoughts turned to the one person that had truly made it all possible. Without him, he would be dead, and he could not forget him and all he had done in this moment.

" Rest easy, Tom. I will see you again, when the time comes."

Although he knew he would receive no response, he liked to think that somewhere, somehow, Tom had heard his words and could finally have that peace Harry hoped he would find.