Werewolves could see magic.

It was something granted to them as an apology for having to deal with the curse. As such, while some werewolves disliked the conception of it, none of them could deny the usefulness.

Tom sent them ahead to scout, knowing that most of them would be able to stay out of harm's way. And if some of them couldn't?

Well, Tom would deal with it later. This was war, and he should expect to lose some of his pawns. He hadn't lost any yet, but they hadn't had any real battles. He hoped Fenrir would be able to accomplish his task of setting up the Runes to transport the ones who couldn't apparate.

He turned his attention to the crowd gathered in front of him. His Knights were behind him.

"Try not to spill magical blood," he started out with. Even if Magic had betrayed them, their main goal remained the same. They had to make sure they didn't lose more magicals even during a War.

There were more important goals to think about.

More dangerous enemies to prepare for.

"But as always, safety comes first. Kill before being killed."

The throngs of his army were greater than he expected. He knew the numbers, but they had never been gathered in one place before. Vampires were to the right. The French to the left. And in the middle, making up the biggest percentage of the crowd were his allies of old. Abraxus stood in front of them, masked, but his platinum blond hair marked him as if he wasn't. Tom knew he could count on him to lead when he was gone. Behind the crowd, Rosier stood with a group of other wizards, all highly trained to deal with the dragons behind them. And to the right of them were the Centaurs and the Giants, all ready to fight.

The plan was simple. His army would keep the Light busy and round up the ones that were beaten either by his army or by the plants Potter claimed to have put on them. Tom knew the effects of the plant intimately, and he knew its effectiveness. He only hoped that the Light didn't have any surprises in store for them.

Tom would work with the Vampires to deal with Magic. And most importantly, Potter and Sirius would be saving Harry.

"Once the Werewolves send word back," said Tom, "we will join the battle. Giants, Centaurs, and the Dragons will go first." They would be the ones most likely to withstand any surprise magical attacks and would be a decent shield to the ones coming after. "Then we will apparate in."

He paused, waiting for any questions, but no one dared to speak. The silence was almost oppressive in its tension, all of them waiting for the Patronus from Remus that would signal the start of the battle.

"This has been a long time in coming," he said, "and we've prepared for it. We will emerge victorious." His voice was tinged with confidence and was firm, and the army heard it, their spirits lifting.

They wouldn't lose.

They believed in Tom and Tom wouldn't let them down.

He planned every part of this battle, and the only way the Light could ever win was if they had Magic on their side.

But they wouldn't.

He would make sure of it.

The Light had spotted them.

Remus was hiding behind a large tree, Fenrir's protego charm sparkling in front of them as it withheld the Light's attack.

He knew Harry's plants must had made a dent to their numbers, but there were still more than he expected. But he had seen their Lord's army. They would not fail.

Closing his eyes, he thought back to when he had first felt safe with Fenrir. It was the memory he had always drawn on, and despite knowing Gilderoy was his Intended, it was still one of his happiest memories.

A wolf burst out of his wand. He didn't tell it to say anything, because he didn't need to. Their Lord would know the significance of its arrival.

Minutes passed torturously slow. Remus added his own magic to Fenrir's spell, hoping to protect their comrades behind them.

Remus saw the dragons first.

Four of them. They towered over the Light wizards and had seemed to appear out of thin air right behind them.

A roar echoed, a war cry from the Centaurs that Remus couldn't see. Arrows started to shoot down out of the air, hitting a hasty shield put up from the Light Wizards.

No one was attacking them anymore.

Remus let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping as he stopped supplying magic to the shield. It had taken a lot out of him, but his people were safe. Fenrir supported him, his arm going around his shoulders and keeping him standing.

A crack sounded.

Their Lord stood in front of them, his red eyes glittering as they scanned the trees behind them.

"Good work," he said.

Pride sprouted in Remus' heart. He bowed his head.

"Any causalities?"

"No," said Fenrir, and Remus was grateful. He wasn't sure if he was able to speak without sounding hoarse.

"Good," said their Lord. His eyes fell on Remus and Remus did his best to stand straighter. "I know you're tired, but I need your help."

Remus felt sluggish. And drained. But he knew their Lord wouldn't ask if he didn't truly need it. So he nodded, knowing that he would do whatever needed to be done to help.

This was the last battle, and Remus was determined for the Dark to come out on top.

Tom was nervous.

He hadn't felt this nervous since Harry had disappeared. He knew Potter was probably saving Harry right now, and it was only the charm not warming in his tightly clenched fist that kept him from following.

He would be of more help to Harry here. Magic had been the one to derail all their plans, and she could do so again if he didn't stay.

He knew he was doing the right thing, but if Harry got hurt…

A hand squeezed his. He tensed, but when he met Carmilla's eyes, he calmed. Being nervous would only be a detriment to their plans.

The Werewolves would lure Magic to them. And then they would trap her here.

They were in a cave on the outskirts of the Light's hideout. It wasn't the preferred place to work magic on a deity, but it would have to do. Tom knew it would be hard to lure Magic away, and the smaller the distance, the more likely they would succeed.

They were counting on Magic's soft spot for the werewolves to lead Her away from the battle. Some of the werewolves had gotten injured during the fight with the Light, and Magic would feel compelled to heal them. After all, it would only take a second.

But it would only take a second for Tom's blood to trap her.

They had made a circle of Tom's blood near the entrance of the cave. As soon as Magic couldn't move, they could complete the ritual.

She seemed to appear out of nowhere. She looked different. She was no longer pale; in fact, it seemed as if she was at the height of her power. Tom felt anger rising inside of him at her appearance; he knew she only looked well because she had been siphoning power from his Intended. She looked confident, and Tom couldn't wait to wipe that smugness right off her face. She was going to pay dearly for crossing him.

She was looking directly at Tom when his blood bound her. She let out an inhumane screech, blue light immediately filling the room and making his eyes hurt. He was forced to close his eyes, but luckily, the blood held, keeping Magic in place.

Once the magic faded, and his eyes were open once more, Tom strode in front of Carmilla, standing directly in front of Magic.

She looked different; her face was twisted in pain and her skin looked wispy once more. Behind him, the Vampire Elders were chanting a spell in a language he could not hope to understand. Power were imbued in the words, and it was obvious it was their spell that was taking its toll on Magic.

"Tom," Magic spoke before he could. "Tom, please, what are you doing?"

"What I should had done long ago," he said. He wasn't in the mood to gloat; he wanted to get this over with so he could go to Harry. He didn't get distracted by Magic, raising his wand and adding his own strength to the spell.

Chains were forming around Magic. A single bead of sweat ran down the side of his head as Tom concentrated; the spell was taking more out of him than any spell had done so before.

In front of him, Magic wasn't looking so nice anymore. The chains were burning the flesh they touched, and she was screaming. Tom took comfort in the fact, knowing that this meant the spell was working.

He had to do this fast. They couldn't hope to contain the deity if she got out.

Just as he was about to finish the last link, there was a cry from the Elders behind him. The blue light that had enveloped the room beforehand was suddenly back; it had rebounded from the end of the cave and was now on the Elders. Their concentration had wavered, and although Magic was still bound in place by his blood, she now had the ability to weave magic where She stood.

And the chains were no longer holding her down.

She looked furious, both of her hands up in the air as she tried her best to destroy them. Tom threw the force of his own magic behind the hasty shield he put up, the blue light rebounding off it, but coming back stronger. He didn't know how much longer he could hold it up.

But he didn't have time to worry, because Carmilla was stepping in front of the shield. Her cape was gone, and her hair undone, the curly tresses flying behind her from the force of the deity's magic. She didn't look afraid.

Magic seemed to recognize her, her magic faltering in the face of Carmilla's appearance. "Carmilla," she breathed, and then Carmilla was casting magic on her own.

Tom didn't stay to watch them fight, instead turning to check in on the Elders.

They were old. And it seemed as if their age was going to be their downfall.

He hurried to their side, kneeling on the hard ground to prop the closest one up into his arms. There were gashes from where the blue magic had hit, and he didn't know if he could heal them.

"We'll need more blood," said the Elder, and Tom didn't hesitate, cutting his wrist and holding it above the Elder's mouth.

Blood dripped down, the blood that Magic had relied on so long and that reliance on it would give them the ability to cast magic against her.

That, and their knowledge of the world Magic had come from.

The ritual would be even more risky now. Tom could see the strain it had taken on the elders from the first cast, and he wasn't sure if they could survive the second.

But he knew better than to ask. This was a fight they could not afford to lose. If they couldn't survive a second cast, then they could not.

Their loss would be remembered.

He turned his attention back to the fight in front of them.

Carmilla was holding her own, but she was losing. Magic may be bound in place, but she was not weak.

Tom started to cast again. This time, even Tom felt the strain more acutely, and he knew that even he had to be careful.

But the charm had not warmed in his hand, and he had no clue on how Harry was faring. He didn't care about his own safety.

He just wanted vengeance.

And to get it, he had to bind Magic.

So he ignored the warning twinges of his magic and continued to cast.

Chains appeared above Magic, and when they fell, flesh burned once again. Immediately, the blue magic faded, and Carmilla stood above Magic. A second later, she added her own magic to the chains, lightening the load on Tom considerably.

That was enough.

There was a second right before the last chain fell into place that had the magic faltering, but as a cry behind him sounded, the spell completed.

Tom didn't dare look back.

Instead he stepped forward, past Carmilla and in front of Magic.

"To me, you are bound," he spoke, this time in Latin, and there was power in his words. Magic's head whipped up, her eyes wide and pleading as she stared at him. That completed the spell, and the chains disappeared in a flash, leaving Magic on all fours in front of him, collapsed in the face of her failure.

Tom slumped back, relief filling his body. They had bound Magic. She could never disobey him again and was a pawn once more.

He allowed himself one second of relief, before calling down on the ancient magic from the spell. Chains appeared, and they brought pain to Magic and would keep her trapped, and he smiled.

Vengeance was sweet.

But he didn't stay to watch his success play out; Magic's punishment was secondary to Harry's safety.

He turned, and Carmilla met his eyes. Tears were running down her cheeks, but she didn't blame him for the Elder's deaths. They had known the cost, and they had paid it despite the cost being their deaths.

"They will be remembered," he promised.

Carmilla didn't say anything, and he didn't wait to say anything else.

He needed to save Harry.

He disappeared with a crack, his heart pounding as his magic transported him to his Intended.

Harry wasn't sure how much time had passed.

He didn't dare worry. He knew better than to lose himself in that. If he did, he feared he would never make it out.

He had to believe Tom was coming.

It started so softly that Harry missed it at first. The crack hadn't sounded, but there were footsteps sounding through the empty room he had been locked in.

It wasn't a prison. Dumbledore never would had been so couth to lock Harry in a cage made with bars. He wondered if this was a remnant of the cage Dumbledore had locked Grindelwald in.

The door swung open before he could react. James stood there; Sirius' face visible behind his shoulder.

He didn't speak for a second, too shocked at the idea his twin brother had come for him.

"Jamie?" he asked, his voice shaky of disbelief, and James' eyes softened.

"Harry," was the answer, and James rushed through the door. The wards melted at his presence, and James was suddenly there, throwing his strong arms around Harry. "You're safe now," he promised. "Your Intended's out there, fighting."

He let out a sob of relief at the words, unable to stop himself at the thought that Tom was so near. It wouldn't be long now until it was all over, and he could once more rest in his Intended's arms. Tom would get the bracelet off. Tom was here now, to save him, to save them all.

Once James brought Harry past the wards, Sirius also brought him into a fierce hug. "Missed you," Sirius murmured, and Harry bowed his head further into the wizard's neck, glad that it was almost all over.

But of course, it wouldn't be that easy.

Tom was out there, fighting.

Not everyone else was.

The Hallway's light was diminished by a single figure.

James was shaking almost imperceptibly but Harry could feel it pressed up against him as he was. He felt weak, and James' figure was helpful to stay standing.

"Shouldn't you be out fighting, sir?" James' words rang through the hallway, and Harry knew immediately who was blocking their way.

He pushed away from James, loathe to show weakness against the one person he truly hated.

The single figure took a step forward, finally illuminated by the light. He looked the same as ever, with his grandfatherly look and his horribly out of fashion looks, but it still sent a chilling sensation down his spine.

Tom was dealing with something out there. That something had to be Magic, Harry knew that was their plan to deal with her and that would be the only thing to keep Tom from his side. Which meant they were on their own.

And while he trusted Sirius and his brother with his life, he knew Dumbledore could destroy them all without much trouble.

Harry still didn't have access to his magic, after all.

"Oh James," sighed Dumbledore. The disappointment in it was easy to hear and James flinched noticeably. Sirius stepped forward at the words, placing a calm, steadying hand on his Intended's shoulder. James took comfort from it, standing tall once more and slowly raising his wand to point directly at Dumbledore.

It was a clear gesture. James had chosen their side.

He was no longer Dumbledore's pawn.

Dumbledore seemed to realize the significance at the same time, judging by the way his face grew angry. His grandfatherly look was now gone, replaced by a man who was enraged.

"Do you know what you're doing?"

"Yes," replied James without an ounce of hesitation. "Now, more than ever. I know what I want, what I'm fighting for, not like back then. Not when you kept me in ignorance, when you made me a figurehead of a War I had no intention of fighting."

"I taught you everything I know," rebuked Dumbledore. "You are still my Heir."

James' expression never wavered, and his hand held steady as he held it pointed upright at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's face hardened even more, and his gaze switched to Harry. The open disgust was clear. "You could've prevented this," said Dumbledore. "You could've been strong like me."

"You were never strong," said Harry, knowing that Dumbledore was referring to his denouncement of Grindelwald. "And I would never turn my back on Tom. Ever."

"I see my magic has failed you," said Dumbledore. "I thought I could've saved you."

"Saved me?" Harry blurted out before he could think the better of it, thanks to how much Dumbledore's words angered him. "You tried to warp my mind with magic."

"And think how much better you would've been if it worked," said Dumbledore. He sounded sad, as if he truly believed that his magic would have saved Harry.

As if Harry needed to be saved.

He scowled, about to let Dumbledore have a piece of his mind – something he had been looking forward to ever since he had to swallow his words to convince Dumbledore his magic had worked – when Dumbledore spoke again.

"James, kill your brother."

James froze. Harry and Sirius did the same, so shocked at Dumbledore's words that it took a moment to process.

The air immediately felt heavy from the magic of the Vow.

Harry had once hoped that James had been lying. That the vow was something James had made up to explain his actions during the Tournament.

But he had lived in this Hideout and seen the effects of the Vow on his brother.

It was real, and now it was going to make James kill him.

But James was shaking his head, even as sweat from disobeying the Vow dripped down his forehead. "You lost your magic once because of me," said James. "It's only fitting that I lose my magic to save you."

"Jamie," he breathed, shocked at the conviction in his brother's voice and even more so at the sight of it in his brother's eyes. It wasn't something he could ever ask of his brother; he had never wanted retribution for that time in the Tournament. He would never wish something like that on his little brother. But it looked like his brother was going to pay the price anyway.

And it wasn't right.

But what else could he do?

His magic was bound, and it was taking all of James to hold himself back from listening to the Vow. The most he could do was try to take Dumbledore's attention off James; perhaps with Dumbledore distracted, the Vow wouldn't be as trying on James.

It seemed like Sirius had the same idea, because he had already drawn his wand, immediately firing off magic at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore easily deflected it, and although it was hard to tear his eyes away from the brutal fight that was ensuing through his friend and Dumbledore, James had fallen to his knees, his hands drawing blood from where he had dug his nails into his arms.

"Jamie," he called, his heart clenching, and James shook his head, his teeth gritted from the pain and tried his best to smile up at Harry.

"It's okay," he said, "It won't be much longer now."

Harry's heart clenched, but it wasn't as if he could do anything other than offer up his life to James. He never felt as useless as he did now; his friend doing his best to defend them and his little brother giving up his magic for him. He wished he could do something, anything to stop this from happening.

At first, Harry couldn't tell the room was shaking; he thought it was his sight becoming blurry out of the sheer desperation of hoping something would happen. He whirled around, watching as Sirius staggered and Dumbledore did the same, and knew it wasn't happening because of either one of them.

The earth was still shaking, and he didn't have much time to ponder on what exactly was causing it when James reached out and grabbed his hand.

Almost immediately, blue light enveloped him, just as it had during the Last Task. This time, the blue light was accompanied by a series of runes, traveling all along his skin and never stopping, and he felt even more powerful as he had last time. The bracelet fell off into pieces, shattering beyond the two pieces it had left last time, ensuring that it would never be rebuilt again.

And thankfully, this time, his veins didn't burn and there wasn't any pain accompanying the sudden emergence of magic. It wasn't as restricting as last time; he could reach into himself and grab his magic if he wanted.

But he didn't need to use his own magic, not when he could see the magic in the air, leftover from the spells Dumbledore and Sirius had been throwing at each other. There was magic everywhere; in the wards of the Hideout, in the objects left almost carelessly in the hallway, in the Vow hanging over James' head…

He reached out, angry, grabbing at the Vow and dissipating it almost immediately. James relaxed in relief, his breaths shallow and pained, and Harry spared a moment to smile at his brother.

After all, he knew there was nothing Dumbledore could do to him now. Not with magic coursing through his veins, not when he remembered how it had gone last time, when it had been simpler times and he had arced a lightning bolt straight toward his brother.

It hadn't harmed James, but this one would harm Dumbledore.

It was already forming, crackling and bright and blue, and he felt the hotness of his eyes as he turned to face Dumbledore and knew his eyes were shining with the same eerie blue that accompanied Magic.

Dumbledore had grabbed Sirius in front of him while they had all been distracted, intending to use him as a shield.

Harry had never been so angry at that exact moment. He had been beaten, tortured, and kept beyond his will because of this man. Dumbledore had been the single cause of everything that had gone wrong in his life, and Harry was not going to let him kill Sirius Black.

With his left hand he used magic to separate the two of them, leaving Dumbledore alone and defenseless. Dumbledore's eyes were hard as he put up a shield charm between the two of them, but a shield charm couldn't save him from the blue lightning bolt in Harry's hand.

He raised his hand to throw it…

And Dumbledore slumped over to the ground, dead.

Grindelwald was still shaking. He had dropped his wand after he had done the deed and then fallen to his knees.

But Tom didn't have any attention to spare for him. He didn't have time to wonder how Grindelwald had followed Potter or why Grindelwald needed to kill Dumbledore. He didn't tear his eyes away from Harry, his eyes drinking in the beauty that was his Intended.

It had been so long since he had seen Harry. Truly seen Harry with his own two eyes in person that it was taking all his effort not to go running toward him to sweep him off his feet.

But Harry hadn't noticed him yet. Harry was still glowing the blue of the Magic that had betrayed them, runes and characters shining on his skin and illuminating the walls around them. James was in Sirius' arms, both kneeling on the floor, leaving Harry the only one still standing.

And when he finally noticed Tom, his eyes were still glowing that eerie blue.

Tom let himself hesitate a second more, his horrified thoughts realizing that Magic had still gotten to his Intended even after binding her to her will, but then he didn't let that stop him for a second longer.

He had to hold Harry.

So he ran, past Grindelwald, past Dumbledore's crumpled body, past James and Sirius, until he was in front of Harry. He didn't hesitate as he wrapped his arms around his Intended, even though the magic could burn him – had done so before – but luckily, there was no pain, only warmth.

Harry's arms came up behind him, shaking but real and there and nothing like the last time Magic had spirited Harry to him, and Tom let out a shaky breath and held tighter, and thought he would never let Harry go. Never again.

Harry was his, and Harry belonged in his arms.

Harry could've killed Dumbledore. The blue magic had been there, sparking, just asking to be created into that arrow Harry had told him about before. It would've killed Dumbledore if it struck him, releasing James from the Vow and stopping his brother from losing his magic.

And unbeknownst to Harry, it would've saved him from Magic's machinations. He would never be sacrificed to open the path to Avalon.

There was a split second before Grindelwald raised his wand that Tom could've stopped him. He could've bound Grindelwald and stole that moment of vengeance from him. He could've let Harry kill Dumbledore, and thus render Harry safe.

But…

Magic was right when she had chosen Harry.

Harry wasn't meant to kill. It wasn't him. He would had regretted it for the rest of his life, and Tom never wanted Harry to go through anything he didn't want.

So he held tighter, and buried his face further into Harry, and forgot about Magic's plans for his Intended, and only thought about the fact that Harry was now safe and in his arms.

A few seconds passed before a muffled voice sounded, "Are you planning to hold me forever?"

Tom only held tighter at the amusement in his Intended's voice, loathe to let go even as Harry teased him.

Harry's voice was soft when he next spoke, "I don't want to let go either, Tom, but…"

At the sound of regret in Harry's voice, Tom reluctantly let go, meeting Harry's amused eyes with his own.

He was still glowing, the light now reflecting onto Tom and making him blue. Tom stared at it, a frown making his way onto his face at the reminder that Magic had done something.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, unable to keep the worry out of his voice. Harry heard it, and his smile grew. He shook his head and held tighter to Tom's hands.

"No," he said. "It's…I'm not hurt."

Tom was about to protest, because Harry was still glowing blue first off, when Harry continued.

"Not when you're here," he said, and gripped even tighter to Tom. There was a sheen of tears clouding those green eyes, and Tom couldn't help himself, taking one hand out of Harry's tight grip and cupping it to Harry's cheek.

He couldn't begrudge Harry's tears – they hadn't seen each other in so long, that if Tom was even more sentimental than he was he might be finding his own vision blurred. But no, he didn't want a single thing to mar his vision of Harry.

"Can I see it?" asked Harry, his voice soft. It felt as if there was no one else there, even though Tom was aware that Potter and Sirius were still kneeling on the floor. He only had eyes for Harry.

His heart full, he bowed his head, releasing the glamour with wandless magic. His soul mark glowed, mixing with the blue from Harry.

Harry's eyes softened even more, and this time, Tom didn't hold back as he drew his love into a deep kiss.

They had a War to win. People were still fighting aboveground.

But Dumbledore had been defeated.

And Harry was safe in his arms.

So Tom let the world melt away for a few seconds more as he lost himself in his Intended.

A/N: A year ago, I commissioned blop (blopoooo on tumblr) to draw the confession scene from chapter 13, and I love it so so much. here's the link: /WEj8dCn

thank you to eveiss for looking ch 21 and 22 over, please enjoy this gem of eve reading over my typos. thank you for the snark, eveiss is the best gryffindor and is SO BRUTAL and im so grateful love you

ME: Tom was about to protest, because Harry was still growing blue first off, when Harry continued.
EVE: Awww Harry's finally hitting his growth spurt?

IT'S ONE LETTER APART EVE I SWEAR!

Thank you all for reading and the lovely reviews! I read each and every one and treasure them all, thank you.