Chapter 11: To Fight and Love

"Dumbledore, we have news!"

The entire school looked round as Fudge sweep into the room with several of his lackeys. James raised his eyebrows as he caught sight of the smile on Fudge's face.

Dumbledore rose from his seat, his attention focused on the smiling man. "How can I help you, Cornelius?"

"I have had several of my men working on the old Potter case, about the kidnapping of Harry Potter," Fudge announced. James flinched at the memory of returning home to find his son missing and Peter lying on the floor, stunned. He looked down at the plate, the repressed emotions swirling around in his mind and stomach. It had taken the Harry's kidnapping for James to realize that ever since Jayden had been proclaimed the Boy-Who-Lived, he had neglected his youngest son. His nights after that had been guilt-ridden as he searched desperately for his lost child, hoping against hope that he would find the little black-haired boy with eyes so eerily similar to Lily's. But as the long nights and arduous days wore on with the sun disappearing and reappearing over the horizons, hope of finding his son had diminished until James finally began to believe that his son was lost to him and very likely dead. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he turned his eyes to Fudge, wanting and dreading to hear what they had found.

Next to him, he heard Sirius mutter, "Only now?" Remus shushed him with a motion as Fudge sent a glare directly at Sirius before turning back to Dumbledore.

"As I said, we were working on the case and made a breakthrough. Two magical signatures, beyond the obvious ones of Jayden and Harry, were detected in the room. The second one had been written off as either James or Lily's. But because the first was Peter Pettigrew's signature, I became suspicious of the second and had it re-investigated. I am delighted to announce that we have now determined the identity of Harry Potter's kidnapper!"

James paled, shaking even as Lily leaned against him, a hand going to her mouth in hope and fear. "Who was the kidnapper, then?"

"Severus Snape."

James' mind reeled, unable to process what he had heard. Snape? As in Lily's ex-friend? The greasy, vampire-like git who lived down in the dungeons with his stocks of potions? Anger coursed through his veins as he stood up slowly, rage twisting his features even as sorrow throbbed inside his chest. "He…we trusted him."

"We did," Dumbledore said. His eyes, usually calm and friendly, were no longer twinkling.

James curled his fists as the urge to find and kill Snape grew within him. How much he had missed Harry. Not a day passed when he hadn't wondered if things would have been different if he had stayed home and watched over his children. Every time Jayden had a birthday party, he yearned to see Harry right next him—to be there so James could tell both of his sons how much he loved them.

He was on the point of rising when he heard Fleur address Arnea, who sat opposite her. "Is that true, Arnea? Did your uncle really take Harry Potter away? Have you known about this?" She did not seem to care that James and everyone else could hear her quite clearly.

Arnea was Snape's niece, James remembered. From where he stood, the girl looked resigned, as if she was about to spill some deep secret whose burden had now become too much for her young shoulders to bear.

"Yes. It is true."

James's jaw clenched. Beside him, Lily demanded, "Why?" He pulled her close, hurt rising up in James.

"Because of your neglectful treatment of Harry. Uncle couldn't bear to see the baby treated like that, so he took him to a place where he would grow up to be loved and cared for as he deserved. Of course, Uncle never kept the truth from him. He told him the story of his origin as soon as Harry was able to understand. And he saw even more when he…and Delian…fell into my uncle's Pensieve by accident once when he was visiting for the summer."

As she spoke, memories began flashing through James' mind, one in particular that he had forgotten as he silently yearned for his son. Picking up Jayden as guest after guest poured into their home, Lily bustling about, making sure everyone had a bite to eat. Both parents staying with Jayden as he was passed, smiling, from guest to guest. All while Harry sat forgotten, tucked into a corner on the floor in his carrier. James remembered playing with Jayden as Harry sat away from them, gurgling quietly, listening to his brother's shrieks of laughter. Beside him in the present, Lily wept.

"It took ages for Delian…and Harry, to get over what they had seen there. Delian blamed himself, and it took both Uncle and Ginny to convince him that it wasn't his fault."

"Ginny? She knows Harry Potter?" Ron yelled, his eyes wide. Had James been in a jovial mood, he might have laughed.

"In a way," Arnea said. "She has never officially met him, but she has seen him, though she doesn't realize it. My entire family knows him…as does Fleur…though she was unaware of it as well." She looked at Fleur, who nodded.

"I think I understand now." There were tears in her eyes. "But why didn't you ever tell anyone, Arnea? They have been searching desperately for him for years!"

"I think I know." James jumped at the voice of his best friend, sitting between himself and Remus.

"Excuse me?" asked Arnea.

"He didn't want to return, did he? He forgave some of the people from his past, but he never forgave his own family, did he?"

James gaped at his friend in disbelief. The thought that Harry would never forgive his family hadn't crossed his mind. It had been so long ago, But if Harry had indeed seen the memories of his neglect, would he really ever decide to go back to the family that had forgotten about him until it was too late?

"Actually, he recently forgave them," Arnea was saying. "But, yes, that was one reason. Another was that if he did return, his entire life and all his secrets with it would be revealed. And at the time, that was something that he could not allow to happen."

A chill shot through James. Further down the row, Dumbledore looked interested. "What do you mean?"

This time it was Arnea's sister, Hestia, who spoke. "When Uncle took Harry, he placed him with a family he knew would keep him forever. Harry was adopted into that family the day that he was taken."

James froze, and felt Lily rigid beside him.

"Adopted? But his entire family was still alive! That's not possible!" Minerva exclaimed in her light Scottish brogue, disbelief written all over her face.

"It is if you blood-bond with the child."

Remus looked at the girls, aghast. "H…Harry was blood-bonded into the family?" His face was even paler than usual.

"And when he was, he inherited traits from both his parents, both internally and externally. So Delian was telling you the truth when he said that Harry Potter no longer existed. The boy who once held that name may be alive, but the Potter part died the day he was adopted. Only Harry remains now, and his family are the only ones permitted to call him as such."

"And you know this boy?" Dumbledore asked. His eyes were sparkling again, and on his face was a look James recognized: the look of a man who had just pieced everything together.

"Quite well."

"Have I ever met him?"

"Yes, in fact, you have. Everyone here has at least seen him, if not spoken with him once or twice."

Hestia was smiling. "You know! You've guessed our secret!"

James looked from Dumbledore to Hestia, wondering if he could wring the truth out of either of them.

Dumbledore spoke quietly. "Lily, James, the girls are telling the truth. I believe I know who our missing Harry is…" He turned to James and Lily. "I will allow the girls to reveal it."

James still couldn't put the pieces together. It was someone he had meet before, someone who looked different now, but at one point in his young life had been his son, Harry. He racked his brain, going through everyone he'd met recently, looking for any clue that pointed him in the right direction.

"I know," Sirius said suddenly. "I know who Harry is."

James spun to face him and saw the hurt on his friend's face. "It's Delian Harold. He is Harry."

His mouth fell open before shock froze him once more. Lily fell back into her seat, a hand drifting up to her mouth.

There was a gasp from the direction of the Gryffindor table; it was Jayden, looking horrified.

"Yes. Delian is Harry," Arnea said. "You see, he decided at a very young age that he wanted little to do with his old life. He was willing to keep his name, mainly because mother liked it so much, but nothing else. Even if you were to do a blood test, you would find little evidence that Delian was really your son." She looked at Lily.

"And yet, his heart could not deny you the truth you have been wanting for so long. He gave us permission to tell you after he was gone," added Hestia.

"You mean…he's gone forever?" Ron asked.

James looked desperately at Arnea. Surely it couldn't be true?

"That depends on quite a few things."

"And what are those, Miss…Harold?" asked Dumbledore.

"Delian has many secrets, one of the largest being his relationship with the Potters. But his second largest is his home…our home. You see, Professor, when Uncle took Delian away, he brought him to the same place where he had been raised after he, too, was found in an abusive situation. Uncle Severus was heavily abused as a child, until he was four. His father went so far as to murder his mother, and when he couldn't find Uncle, kill himself." James paled. He had never realized how bad Snape's home life had been while he bullied the Slytherin. It seemed he had committed more than one grievous mistake in his relatively young life.

"Uncle was found by my grandfather, Aeolus, and my father, Zephyr, after he ran away into the forest. They brought him home and grandfather adopted Severus though the blood-bond, thereby making him his son and our uncle. Uncle had told our father of Harry's treatment, and together they formed a plan that would allow Harry a new chance at life. Uncle took him, Daddy and Mother adopted him through blood-bonding, and then Harry became Delian."

"But why blood-bonding? That is ancient magic that is rarely used now."

"Because there are still people who use that sort of bond, Professor." It was Ron Weasley, of all the unlikely people to have the answer. "Elves use it, as do Veela, Fae, Dwarves, and other magical beings like that."

"How does that pertain to this, Ronald?" demanded Percy Weasley. James had never been terribly fond of this bookish, pompous member of the Weasley clan, but he was grateful to him for asking the question.

"Because, Percy," Ron retorted, "Harry and Snape weren't adopted by your average wizards. They were adopted by Fae." Everyone stared at the boy as if he had taken leave of his senses.

Beside James, Sirius nodded in understanding, his words spilling forth in an excited torrent. "So that's how he knew I was an Animagus! He could tell that I wasn't a dog when I first met him…he knew I was a wizard. And that's how he knew Remus was a werewolf! Fae are renowned for being able to sense things like that."

"Actually, in all, Harry is part wizard, part Fairy, and part Veela. Mother is a Veela, while father is a Fairy," Hestia corrected, smiling up at them.

Ron grinned back. "Sorry. I forgot that part! That's how he knows Fleur so well, too. They had the Veela-blood in common, which led to their friendship."

"Indeed, that is one reason I got to know him so well," Fleur admitted. "I was quite curious about his blood-lines. But his sister and I were friends before that. I was aware that she had gained her mother's Veela traits, while Arnea and Hestia gained their father's Fairy traits. Delian and Camenae received both Veela and Fairy."

Harry had four sisters? He has siblings and from what it seems, he's quite close to all of them. That thought saddened James and he looked across at Jayden. He should have been close to his brother as well. If only we hadn't messed up, Harry would have been here with us.

"And both Veela and Fairy take life-mates as part of their inheritance from their parents. Fleur's mate is William Weasley, Harry's mate is Ginny, of course, while mine is Neville." Arnea smiled at Neville, who took her hand, a blush forming on his face.

Ron spoke up again. "There's also another secret that all of you kept,"

"And that would be…?"

"That you…and Delian…happen to be royal!"

James sat down hard, staring at Ron.

Percy Weasley's eyes grew wide as he stammered out, "R-royal?"

"And not just any royals. Delian is the Heir to the High Throne of the Four Realms. Our sister is going to be a queen come next week."

"I think I understand, now." Remus's face was solemn. "If Harry…Delian had told us this before, it would have not only put him and his family in danger, but us as well."

Arnea sighed. "That was Delian's biggest secret. Uncle Severus knew it because of a lucky twist of fate. You see, a long time ago, Uncle fell into Dumbledore's Pensieve…into his memory of the prophecy that Professor Trelawney made about the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Uncle did some thinking and he realized that somehow, you might have made a mistake. The day that he was forbidden to return to the Potters' home was the day he proved his hypothesis. After holding Harry for a certain period of time, he noticed that a very faint scar could be seen on his back, just between his shoulder-blades. It wasn't an ordinary scar…it was shaped perfectly like a Phoenix."

James' brow furrowed. What was the girl saying? He hadn't seen any scars like that on his son's back.

But then again, Potter, when have you ever held him long enough for him to be happy or to even begin to notice anything odd?

"The scar only appears when Harry is overly emotional or happy—in this instance, it was because someone was paying a lot of attention to him. Severus realized that although Jayden was the obvious candidate for being the Boy-Who-Lived, mainly because of his lightning bolt scar, it did not prove it to be true. The answer lay in the prophecy."

"THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES," recited Hestia, and Arnea nodded.

"It could have been Neville, who was born at eleven forty-six on the evening of July 31st. Jayden Potter was born next, at eleven fifty-five. But Harry was born only seconds before the clock struck twelve midnight, at eleven fifty-nine, as the seventh month died."

The realization hit James then, horror spreading through every part of his being as Arnea continued. "Harry Potter…now Delian…is the Boy Who Lived."

"IMPOSSIBLE," Jayden shouted from where he sat with his friends.

"No, it is not," retorted Arnea. "Uncle Severus saw it before anyone else. Perhaps you faced Voldemort before…but it was not without Harry at your side. You may not have known it, but every time you faced Voldemort, Harry had dreams of himself facing the same man at the same time. Through your eyes, he saw what he had been training to fight his entire life. Your blood was enough to sustain Voldemort, but not enough to allow all of his strength and power to return. Harry's blood, however, would have been more than enough to bring him back to full power." Jayden quieted, his shoulders slumping.

Hestia took up the tale. "You were no more than a pawn in Fate's game, Jayden Potter. Fate placed you here so you could stall for time. Meanwhile, Delian fought beside you in his dreams—though you didn't know it—every time you fought Voldemort. And through all this, he was preparing for the Final Battle. That time has come."

James watched as Hestia placed her hand on his son's arm, looking at him with a smile. "He loved you, you know. Harry has always loved you, even though he didn't know anything about you. I admit you disappointed him when he met you in person because of the airs you gave yourself. But he never stopped loving you…or respecting you." Despite the situation, James was amused that Jayden was blushing at Hestia's words, his gaze fixed on her face.

Ron broke the silence. "Where is he now?"

James did not like the way Arnea was looking at them now. "He took Ginny back to the Realms with him…but forced us to stay here."

"Why?" Sirius' cry echoed throughout the silent hall, The girls looked as if they were fighting the urge to cry.

"We were the diversion. He is most likely in the process of battling Voldemort right now," Hestia whispered.

Beside James, his wife collapsed in her chair.

"Lily!" he shouted and caught her before she hit the cold stone floor. Madam Pomfrey hurried over.

Dumbledore rose to his feet, the twinkle in his eyes gone. "Minerva, stay here and watch over the children. Cornelius, go back to the Ministry and send the Aurors to –" Dumbledore came to a halt. He didn't know where to send the Aurors as he had no idea where the fight could be. He turned to where Arnea sat. "Where is Mr. Harold?"

Arnea's eyes flicked to his before falling to the table top. "He forbade me to tell you to keep you safe here in Hogwarts."

"Safe? He's out there fighting Voldemort!" James shouted. He looked down at Lily, her head cradled in his lap as the school nurse checked her over.

"Please, Miss Harold. You must tell us. Your brother cannot fight Voldemort and his army alone, not without exhausting his magical reserves first. If that happens, he will be powerless to stop Voldemort," Dumbledore said softly, his age clear on his weathered face.

Neville shook Arnea's hand slightly, and her eyes flicked up to meet his. "Please, Arnea. They don't want to lose him so soon after finding out he's alive and well."

Every single eye in the Great Hall fixed on her, waiting eagerly for her response.

Closing her eyes, she whispered, "Charing Cross."

When Aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix appeared, Trafalgar Square had already erupted in chaos. Citizens, tourists, children and young couples were running away from the marching front of Voldemort's army.

Before them fought a single boy.

Dressed in a white shirt and tailored black pants, Delian Harold was firing curses, hexes, charms, and spells with incredible speed. Already, he was sporting burns, cuts and bruises as the magical spells erupted all around him, sending up chunks of cement and stone into the air. A large number of Death Eaters had already fallen around him, blood seeping into the cracks in the road.

Without hesitation, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Albus Dumbledore led the charge, both sides clashing together.

The moment Voldemort had arrived, he had wasted no time in attacking. With a massive arc of stunning spells, Delian had knocked out the first waves of inexperienced Death Eaters. Yet that left a greater majority of Voldemort's army behind. He was grateful that the day wasn't a full moon as the infected humans threw themselves upon their victims, tearing them apart with their bare hands, faces covered in blood. A couple of giants had arrived, shoulders brushing the sides of the tall buildings.

Thankfully, Delian had had the foresight to cast wards around the area, slowing the march of Voldemort's army, forcing them to try and tear down the wards.

Voldemort himself had walked calmly to the base of Nelson's column, destroying the first lion he had set his eyes on, and was now standing on the sloped back, the lion's head at his feet. His face was twisted in a dark smile, his wand held lightly before him.

Between Delian and the Dark Lord was a slew of Death Eaters, waiting for their Lord's command, all of them watching as Delian fought with Walden Macnair.

Delian rolled to the side as Macnair's axe cleaved into the street. During his stay at Hogwarts, he had heard bits and pieces about this man who had an odd fascination with killing creatures the Ministry had deemed dangerous to let live. He thought it was ironic for such a man to hold such a job but in one way, it seemed appropriate for the man chasing him now. He threw a barrage of Exploding Hexes at the Death Eater, hoping to catch him off balance.

He was so busy keeping track of Macnair that he did not see a Death Eater creeping up behind him until his wand flew out of his hand in mid-spell. Turning around, he dealt a roundhouse kick to the man's head, knocking him out cold. Luckily, his time with the royal trainers was proving to be helpful. He lunged at his wand where it had fallen, the fingers of his left hand closing around the handle when the blunt end of the axe came down on his upper arm, shattering the bone.

Delian bit back a cry of pain as he kicked at Macnair's leg, and with a wandless spell, blew the man back. He picked up his wand with his right hand, pain shooting up his broken arm like small knives. "Ferula!" Ropes flew out of the end of his wand as he moved out of the way of more spells cast by the approaching Death Eaters, a splint forming on the broken appendage. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he used his left hand to conjure a magical shield, blocking a series of minor hexes thrown at him from what looked to be a new recruit.

"Give up, boy! This will only end in your death," taunted Voldemort. His bright red eyes bored into Delian as the latter took down another three Death Eaters with a wide attack of spells he had learned in the Four Realms. "If you put your wand down and swear your allegiance to me, I will let you live."

A curse hit; Delian's white shirt stained with fresh blood as he looked up at the man who fancied himself a Lord. "I will never turn against my people. Tom."

The pale man twisted in anger at the use of his former name before slipping back into the cold expressionless mask. The red eyes glittered with dark mirth. "Who are you to say such things? The only one who has a chance of defeating me is the Boy Who Lived, a whelp of no power."

A secretive smile made its way onto Delian's mouth. "We'll see about that." He did a back flip, tucking his damaged arm across his chest as he Apparated a few feet away in midair, only to appear behind the Death Eaters. A second later, a resounding boom blew through the crowd, catching a few more Death Eaters in the blast as the ground beneath their feet erupted outward.

Macnair appeared again, axe swinging across and down, and Delian gave a cry as the blade bit into his right shoulder. Adrenaline surged through his body, his wand cutting through the air. Blood splattered over him as the Cutting Hex sliced through Macnair, whose dark eyes widened even as they dimmed in death. The large axe clattered to the floor; Delian was already moving away.

The Death Eaters were coming again.

Already his muscles were beginning to tire from the fight, and sweat collected on his brow.

Cracks split the air as wizards and witches appeared on the edges and streets surrounding the Square, dressed in scarlet robes.

Realization struck Delian even as Voldemort's second in command shouted in warning.

"The Aurors are here."

"KILL THEM!"

What had been fun and games for the Death Eaters quickly upgraded to an all-out battle as the two sides clashed. Individual duels erupted all over the Square as fighters paired off with their opponents. A crackle of energy spread over the area as Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey wards were constructed.

But Delian didn't care. He was too busy making his way to where Voldemort was.

Just as he ran up the steps, a Death Eater with platinum blonde hair stepped into his path, an extravagant cane held in his hand. "Where do you think you are going?"

Delian froze; he knew that voice.

"Lucius Malfoy."

The Death Eater reached up and pulled his mask off. Grey eyes, so similar to Draco's but more cold and unforgiving, looked down on him. "So you know me."

"You're Draco's father."

The blonde wizard spat on the floor before his feet. "He is no son of mine, the blood traitor that he is, and a disgrace to the Malfoy name. Once I find him, he will die a slow and painful death."

"He's not a disgrace. You are. You, who chose ignorant and bigoted ideals over the wellbeing of your family. You are no man, but a cowardly and spineless serpent," Delian said softly, his heart pumping hard. "They were right to leave you behind. They chose a better life full of love and happiness while you chose the path to suffering, pain, and hate. You will not find Draco or Narcissa for they are protected well."

The wizard sneered at him. "We shall see about that."

Delian ducked to the side as a Killing Curse swept past him, catching a fleeing Death Eater in the back. In response, Delian sent slivers of ice streaking toward Malfoy.

Screams and cries of pain swept up as wizards and witches fell, blood pouring from numerous wounds. Others collapsed with unseeing eyes, their lives ripped from their torn bodies.

During the past year, Delian had come up with many ideas to try and turn Lucius Malfoy back to the light, to be able to reunite father and son once more. He had tried to come up with reasons but as the weeks ticked by, the atrocities committed by the head of the house of Malfoy continued to pile up until it reached a point that Delian could no longer ignore. He had learned that Lucius had murdered a muggle family of four, giving them to werewolves to be raped and tortured. He had personally raped the wife as the husband watched even as he was chewed apart. That day, Lucius' fate had been sealed.

But even then, Delian had hoped that Lucius would lay down his wand and surrender himself.

An Entrails-Expelling Hex flew past him, barely missing him by an inch as he twirled away, bringing up his shield to block more hexes and curses. Lucius was an excellent dueler, adept at keeping his movements to a minimum and conserving his energy.

Back and forth they traded blows, each one trying to get the upper hand. Delian was appalled at the lengths Lucius was taking to survive the duel. At one point, Delian had thrown another Cutting Hex when Lucius had grabbed the nearest person, a young female Death Eater, and threw her into the path of the oncoming spell, which cut her down neatly.

It only served to drive Delian on. After what seemed like eternity, he disarmed Lucius, tripping him up as he attempted to flee beyond the wards. He knocked the older wizard down and held him there with his boot keeping. Lucius looked up, his pristine platinum blonde hair messed up from the duel, dirt and blood streaking across his pale white skin.

"Kill me, or I will keep hunting Draco down until he is dead."

They both knew that Lucius would keep this word; that as long as he lived, he would keep trying to take his son's life. Delian held up his wand, trying to decide what to do. His father and grandfather had taught him to kill only when necessary and imprison those he was able to. In times of war, acts that would normally be frowned upon were sometimes the only course of action.

Was killing Lucius Malfoy one of them?

His wand held steady, but he was unable to say the words that would end Lucius Malfoy's life. Lost in his own thoughts, Delian barely caught the movement as the older wizard reached for his calf and pulled out a hidden wand. Just as Lucius flicked the slender piece of wood and the words for the killing curse left his lips, a red curse caught the wizard in the chest and a spray of blood erupted.

Spinning around, Delian caught sight of a wizard with grizzled grey hair, one good eye locking with Delian's while the other twirled wickedly in its socket. Delian nodded in acknowledgement and turned back to face Voldemort.

As he passed through the surrounding duels, he helped the outmanned Aurors and Order members, casting spells and hexes to catch the Death Eaters off-guard. He had just hexed a Death Eater who was attempting to dismember a still-living older woman when black fire erupted around his feet.

He jumped back and to the side, instinctively casting water as the fire ate away at the cloth of his shoes. A second later he realized it was Demon's Fire even as the water evaporated, leaving the fire behind. He had just uttered the counter curse when a body was hurled into him. He groaned as he landed on his back, the Auror pressing down on him.

Delian pushed him off to only realize that the Auror who had been thrown at him was dead, his eyes wide with shock. Looking up, he saw a woman with frizzy black hair making her way toward him, green light flashing from her wand as she passed.

"Doesch the 'itlle baby boy t'ink he can pway wit' auntie Bella?" She cackled as she headed for him. "Auntie Bella doesn't like children who don't think they can pway by da rules."

Delian gingerly climbed to his feet, eyes trained on the insane woman. He had heard tales about her from Neville, who had lost his parents to the Cruciatus curse cast by her.

"Not a very nice thing to do to Malfoy. Bad children need to be punished if they can't pway nicely." Bellatrix's face changed from a mocking to an insanely grinning, murderous mask. "What punishment should be handed down?"

Delian's wand sliced through the air, cutting the first barrage of curses into nothingness. The burns on his lower legs throbbed intensely as he dueled with Bellatrix. Burns left by the Demon's Fire would continue to eat away at the skin until treated with the paste created specifically for the curse. He was trying to keep his movements to a minimum but the female Death Eater was forcing him to keep on moving, directing most of her spells near to his feet even as she threw a number at his chest.

Soon, Bellatrix's curses were making it through his defense, connecting with his body. He was tiring. Taking on the first waves of inexperienced Death Eaters had drained his magical reserves. At this rate, he knew he would fall before reaching Voldemort, something that could not be allowed to happen.

There was only one option.

He summoned his last vestiges of wizard magic, dodging the incoming spells as much as he could. Just as it looked as if Bellatrix was going to defeat him, he let loose with one of the strongest shields he had ever conjured. Bellatrix screamed in frustration as her spells sizzled on the face of the shimmering blue dome.

But Delian didn't care; he was too busy releasing his full magical heritage. Bellatrix wavered as he started to transform, his long hair lengthening until the tips touched his knees. His ears became pointed and his body shot up a few more inches. His brilliant green eyes were flecked with gold.

"You're a half-breed!" Bellatrix screamed, disgust and revulsion evident in her voice.

Delian smiled and conjured flames of his own, using his bare hands. Bellatrix shriek as she lost sight of her prey, the flames rising to towering heights. She threw curse after curse but the fire still roared as it began crushing down on her.

Snarling in contempt and disgust, Bellatrix retreated, presumably considering how to kill Delian. She froze and then, giggling with glee, pointed her wand at the base of Nelson's Column. A groan emanated from the ancient stone as a blast exploded from the ground. It trembled before tilting sideways.

Screams echoed in the courtyard as the giant block of stone came rumbling down. Delian threw his head back, eyes widening at the audacity of Bellatrix. Summoning his Elf magic, he called the powers of the elementals and wind and water rushed to the stone. Within the second it took for it to land, the stone had turned into mud, the dark liquid splashing down onto the ground. Distracted by the falling column, he had let the Veela fire die out.

Bellatrix's hand flew out, her fingers catching the black strands of Delian's hair. He cried out in pain as she jerked his head back, intending to slice his throat open. He pointed his wand behind him, unleashing a gust of wind. She was picked up and torn away from him as she flew across the Square.

Bellatrix landed with a resounding crack at the base of the column, her skull split open on the last step. Voldemort looked down upon the limp body of his most loyal Death Eater, fury in his bright red eyes.

"You've cost me my best servant, boy." The Dark Lord stepped off the back of the destroyed lion, floating down to the ground. "I will watch in satisfactions as you die a slow and painful death."

Delian dodged the barrage of spells coming his way and responded with his own. Magic crackled around them as they dueled, spells colliding in mid air with many small explosions. The smell of ozone was suffocating. The dark burns on his legs throbbed with every heartbeat and his blood sang in his ears even as the sweat dripped into his eyes.

"You will fail, half-breed," Voldemort stated as a spell caught Delian in the right shoulder, shredding his shirt. Delian panted, face contorting in pain. "You are too weak to defeat me. Once I'm done with you, I will go after the Chosen One and string his carcass above the ramparts of Dumbledore's beloved school."

"No, you won't, Tom. I won't let you." Delian held out his hand toward the only remaining lion left undamaged, sending his magic into the ancient stone. With a rumble, the statue came to life and a roar echoed across the plaza. Gathering itself, the lion pounced on Voldemort, jaws wide.

Voldemort flung curses at it, shards of stone flying as craters dotted the smooth stone. The giant legs kicked up, cracking the stone underneath even as the paws caught unsuspecting Death Eaters and flung them away to land on the edges of the battle, unnaturally still.

While the Dark Lord was busy with the statue, Delian tended to his wounds, his Elvish and Veela magic quickly healing them as well as numbing the burns on his legs. Turning his attention back to his opponent, he called upon his Veela magic, and fiery orbs formed in the palms of his hands. One after the other, he began launching balls of magical fire at the dodging Voldemort.

As the fire landed close around him and tongues of flame licked his robes, Voldemort screamed in pain. He threw another Bombarde curse at the lion, the explosion ripping the large stone head clean off. The now immobile stone body fell the floor, breaking into many pieces.

"Impressive magic for one so young. Join me and I will let you live," Voldemort offered, circling him again.

"No, Tom. I've already made my decision as you have already made yours." Delian released another flurry of Veela fire and Voldemort answered with his own spells. The other duels broke apart as the two of them continued trading fire. A dark pulsating sphere beat around Voldemort as Delian's magic flared like living energy around his own body.

The Dark Lord threw a barrage of purple and black curses. Delian cast another shield charm, only to watch in horror as the curses formed black icicles that speared right through his blue dome, one catching him in the right shoulder, pinning him to the remains of Nelson's Column. Another two locked his left arm at an unnatural angle. His wand clattered to the ground.

The Dark Lord smiled as he walked calmly to him, the Death Eaters around him cheering on as they held back the Aurors.

"HARRY!" Delian's pain-filled eyes flicked to where James was fighting with the Lestrange brothers. "NO!"

"Harry?" Voldemort stared down at him. "The missing Potter child? Dear me, you came to try and save your brother in an ill-fated attempt at bravery. How Gryffindor of you." The Dark Lord touched his wand to Delian's face and pain streamed into his writhing body. He tried to bite back the scream but was unable to; his cry split the air.

"GET AWAY FROM MY SON!"

Voldemort laughed, his eyes taking in the sight of the desperate Potter. "Such pity that you find out about your son on the eve of his death. If he had only joined me, he would have lived long enough for you to embrace one last time." Voldemort turned back with a dark smile. "Now you can see him die, Potter. AVADA KEDVRA!" Bright green light streaked out of the ash wand, straight toward Delian's chest.

Time slowed down and his green eyes widened.

His heart beat once.

He couldn't die. Not like this, leaving them without explanation.

Ginny. His soul mate.

The pain he could see in his grandfather's eyes when he spoke of his deceased wife.

Ginny with the same pain-filled eyes.

No, not his Ginny.

His soul cried out, reaching for her love. It reached deep down, searching, hunting for anything that could help him. It latched onto his passion, mixing with it, turning it into something more. His back began to burn and the warm sensation filled his body, seeping into every cell.

His hand flew out and a golden wave blasted outward. The killing curse hit it only to disappear.

Those the duel watched in awe as a glow surrounded Delian Harold, tongues of flame spreading over his skin as if they were long red and yellow feathers. His long black hair began whipping in an ethereal breeze. The icicles cracked, silently exploding in a shower of light blue sparks, releasing the boy from his imprisonment.

Voldemort shrank back, unsettled by the apparition before him. What was this? What kind of magic was happening? Where was the boy that had been exhausted and on the verge of defeat? He was now glowing, radiating incredible power. Voldemort hissed, red eyes narrowing. Had Snape been wrong? Was this the true Chosen One?

It did not matter. Both would die at his hand. First this one then other. He would not die at the hands of a half-breed or a half-blood. He was Lord Voldemort, last descendent of the noble and powerful Salazar Slytherin, the greatest Dark Lord ever to have lived. His long white fingers gripped his wand, eyes narrowing.

Delian opened his eyes, the irises swirling with gold fire.

Voldemort drew himself up, his wand arm swinging upward, and a trail of dark magic crackled in the air. Delian moved, his arm flashing out to grip the Dark Lord's arm with his hand. Voldemort gaped at him, unsettled by the move. No one had ever dared touch him before. He tried to pull back but Delian was having none of it. His other hand came up. Voldemort called upon his magic, trying to force the boy away but unable to.

Both of them were locked into a death grip, Delian's hand wrapped around Voldemort's wrists, pointing the ash wand up toward the sky. Delian threw his head back, staring down into the suddenly fearful eyes of the Dark Lord as he pushed the older wizard to his knees. A crack sounded as Delian broke the Dark Lord's wrist, the ash wand falling to the floor with a clatter that everyone watching heard.

"It ends today, Tom. No more will die by your hand." The finality rang clear in Delian's voice, which sounded as if many people were speaking at once. "It's time for this war to end." Summoning his will, the fire of passion burning in him along with the last of his magic, Delian pushed all of his power into the Dark Lord's body.

Voldemort screamed, writhing as the fire began to burn his skin and his soul. Light flashed into existence, glowing bright and brighter, obscuring the two figures within its sphere. Smoke began pouring out of Voldemort's mouth, the flesh of his arms turning to ash.

Then finally, the light exploded into a spectacular fireball. The giant backlash of magic swept outward, rolling over the battlefield.

Spyridon - I'm really nice. Lyras suggested that I split this into two chapters. I was thinking of following her advice but considering the first half is from James' POV of the last scene in CH10, I was like 'I'll post it as one chapter'. Remember, this fic is adopted. The two prologues and CH1-10 are Daphne's.

PS. Voldemort isn't quite don't just yet. There are, however, no horcruxes. Can't really see that happening in this plot.

Reviews are greatly welcomed.

Now I shall crawl back to my cool and comfortable den to nurse the bloody headache my O Chem Exam gave me. Check my profile for irregular updates as my LJ will have the major updates along with stories that are too mature and graphic to be posted here.