CHAPTER ONE - THE END
Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger stood just in front of Hogwarts Castle, forming a triangle, with their backs against each other. Harry was facing front across the grounds. Ron was facing Harry's left, in the direction of the Forbidden Forest, while Hermione stood to Harry's right, facing the Quidditch pitch. It was a stance they had adopted since the battle started. They had agreed that they would each deal with whoever and whatever came up to them from the position they were flanking. Fawkes the Phoenix flew in circles over them, drawn to them by their loyalty to the memory of Professor Dumbledore, filling the air with a song that gave strength and comfort.
Although the phoenix song kept up Hermione's courage, it did not take away the keen sense of regret she felt. It's too late, her heart whispered to her. If only... She glanced at her two best friends. Her eyes lingered on Ron, and a wave of sadness threatened to overwhelm her. Not now, she thought. But when would she ever be free to dwell on it? She had pushed aside all her feelings for Ron since the war started. If they ever lived to see another day, both of them would have changed so much that perhaps their feelings wouldn't matter anymore.
She was startled out of her thoughts when Fawkes dropped something he was holding in his talons. It was the sword of Gryffindor. But to her surprise, it wasn't Harry who had caught it. Fawkes had given the sword to Ron. She took one glance at the sword, and saw that it had changed. The first time Harry and Ron saw it (and described it to her), it was shorter and thin-bladed, almost like a rapier, something that a twelve-year-old boy could wield. But now, it was a full-length, broad-bladed, double-edged sword, fit for a man's hands. Ron grasped the jeweled hilt and turned to the side. It was then that she saw what he would have to deal with.
Six trolls emerged from the snowy borders of the Forbidden Forest. These creatures were completely different from the slow-witted mountain troll they had encountered in their first year. These were shorter, but more cunning -- they were mercenaries, selling their services to the highest bidder, or to the side that promised the most rewards. These trolls would be ruthless. Ron stepped forward to meet them. Hermione's first impulse was to stop him, to pull him back into the security their triangle gave.
But in the next moment, her thoughts were ripped away from Ron when she saw at least twenty Death Eaters positioning themselves before her and Harry. They were surrounded. Their enemies moved arrogantly towards them -- clearly underestimating them, no doubt thinking that twenty of them would be more than enough to defeat two seventh-year students, even if one of them was Harry Potter. The Death Eaters rushed upon them, confident that they would quickly overwhelm their younger and less experienced opponents. In a matter of seconds, ten of them were put out of commission. Hermione almost laughed out loud at the confusion within their enemies' ranks.
Earlier in the year, she had developed code words for each combat spell, a one- or two-syllable substitute for the Latin words of the spell they wanted to cast. At first, she had developed the code to help Ron, who was becoming increasingly frustrated with having to "say the magic words properly," as Professor Flitwick used to remind them, while they were practicing during D.A. sessions. When Harry found out what they were doing, he had insisted that all D.A. members learn the code as well. They spent countless hours practicing, willing their minds and their powers to make each spell happen. Little did they know how useful it would turn out to be, especially now. The code had become their secret weapon, their advantage.
The code started out with the basic spells: "throw" for Expelliarmus, "stun" for Stupefy, "shut up" for Silencio, "shield" for Protego and "freeze" for Petrificus Totalus, gradually moving on towards more complex spells, such as binding with ropes that only the spellcaster could loosen and breaking an enemy's wand. It was during her research into offensive spells that she discovered one that was used to drive an opponent insane, which turned out to be the curse that had hit Ron when they fought against the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries in their fifth year. It was a testament to his resilience that he had managed to survive that curse without losing his sanity.
Even though the Death Eaters hurled a dizzying number of spells at the two of them, Harry and Hermione were able to defend themselves effectively, as well as hurl back an almost equal amount of offensive spells that quickly decimated the enemy's ranks. The remaining Death Eaters, seeing how they had been outwitted, called for reinforcements. At the same time, they now tried to draw the two of them away from each other, and thus ultimately conquer them.
The strategy was working. Harry no longer stood with his back against her. He had moved forward to engage their opponents more fully. From where she stood, she couldn't see how Ron fared against the trolls. But out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Harry had dispatched at least six of the Death Eaters that challenged him. She herself had disarmed and knocked out about ten. However, instead of easing, the battle around them had grown rather more intense. It was then that she noticed more hooded and cloaked figures were coming at them from all directions.
Suddenly, a hush came over the grounds, as a blanket of coldness seemed to engulf them, making the winter chill almost unbearable. The Death Eaters stopped duelling with them and stood at attention. Harry clutched at his scar with both hands. It meant only one thing: Voldemort had come to kill him.
The Death Eaters who remained standing stepped aside, to give room for their master to face The Boy Who Lived and destroy him at last. There was no one else to help Harry except Ron and Hermione. There was no else who could reach them in time. The other prefects and members of the D.A. were most likely defending their assigned areas of the school from Death Eaters or other dark creatures as well. Likewise, most of the members of the Order of the Phoenix had been deployed to where the fighting was heaviest: in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, the Ministry of Magic, and St. Mungo's. Hermione felt a surge of anger run through her body at the thought of Death Eaters causing chaos and destruction at the wizarding hospital. Voldemort had ordered attacks even against those who were too sick and weak to fight. People such as her parents...
All her angry thoughts were swept away at the sight of Ron coming forward and placing himself between Harry and Voldemort. She gasped as she took in the sight of Ron's shoulder bleeding, his robes and shirt torn to shreds, gashes on his face and arms, and his wand and Gryffindor's sword both broken. A thin sliver of wood and the core of unicorn tail hair were all that held the two ends of his wand together. There was blood trickling down from his head. She looked behind her for one split second, and saw that he had killed all six trolls. The other half of Gryffindor's sword was buried in the chest of the largest troll.
"Ron, no!" Harry cried, trying to push Ron to the side, out of Voldemort's line of fire. Hermione sensed that Ron was weak from loss of blood, but he only let Harry push him a little bit to the left. She herself came forward and stood firmly to Harry's right.
Turning to look at Voldemort, Hermione saw for the first time the hideousness of the face that haunted Harry and Ron's dreams. Of the three of them, she was the only one that hadn't seen Voldemort up close yet. Ron had seen him when he and his Death Eaters attacked the Burrow on Boxing Day to kill the Weasleys for their involvement in the Order. She knew Ron still grieved for the destruction of his home, for Charlie's almost total memory loss, and for Percy's crippling. She knew his hatred for Voldemort had finally cast away his fear of even saying that dreaded name.
She wished she had been with Ron that day. But she had gone to visit her parents at St. Mungo's, where they were being treated for magical wounds and lacerations that wouldn't close, no matter how many times Muggle surgeons stitched them up, and regardless of the sealing spells and potions the mediwizards used. Her parents would have died if they had remained confined in Muggle hospital. It was through the Weasleys' Ministry connections that her parents came to be admitted into St. Mungo's, where their injuries, although not completely cured, were soothed and lessened somewhat.
The very thought of what had happened to her parents still had the power to make her cry. Death Eaters had attacked her parents a week before the Christmas holidays, and had burned their house to the ground. However, it seemed they were not meant to be killed outright; their injuries were meant to provoke Harry into leaving his sanctuary and rushing blindly into Voldemort's clutches.
Dumbledore had allowed Harry to spend Christmas at the Burrow, but had insisted that he travel by portkey back to Hogwarts early the following morning. The Headmaster had been right -- the three of them gathered in one place was too tempting an opportunity for the Dark Lord to pass up. When Harry first found out about the attack on Hermione's parents, he had been almost inconsolable. But Harry's fury over what had happened to the Weasleys was a terrifying sight. An intense wave of magic surged around him, making it impossible for anyone to come near him. Only when his anger had given way to guilt and sorrow had he become safe enough to touch again.
The three of them knew that was the one sign they were waiting for, that Harry did indeed have "power the Dark Lord knows not." What they needed to figure out was how to draw out and amplify that power when the time came. Hermione feverishly drew up a mountain of Arithmancy equations, and concluded that Harry needed to combine his power with another wizard's. Sadly, Dumbledore had died before he and Hermione could figure out how to unite their magic with Harry's and use it against Voldemort in that final confrontation. She and the Headmaster had agreed that it was the bond of love and friendship she shared with Harry and Ron that would be the key to strengthening the powers Harry had, to make him the Dark Lord's equal, but filled with Light, instead of Dark, magic. If only they had found out how to use it before Dumbledore embarked on his "next great adventure."
As Hermione continued to look at Voldemort, she realised she was no longer capable of fearing him. The fear had been replaced by hatred and loathing. She noticed that the snakelike eyes glinted with amusement at the sight before him. Only three people stood between him and his goal of razing Hogwarts to the ground. And of those three, one was wounded, and one was a Mudblood who could possibly have no extraordinary powers. To those snakelike eyes, no victory could be easier. Especially since Dumbledore, the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared, was dead, having been caught in an ambush with six dark wizards simultaneously casting the Killing Curse on him.
"Is this what you bring against me, Harry Potter?" Voldemort hissed. "The weakest and most foolish son in a family of weaklings and fools? A Mudblood who was stupid enough to think her Muggle parents would be safe in the care of mad old Dumbledore?" He started to laugh, a sibilant, spine-chilling laugh that made his own Death Eaters cringe.
But Hermione didn't flinch. Instead, she drew herself to her full height. At that moment, when she should have been filled with despair, her whole being flooded with triumph. Voldemort didn't know, and could never know, how comforting it was to die surrounded by one's friends, rather than to live a thousand lifetimes alone. From out of the corner of her eye, she could see Harry's fingers clench tighter around his wand. And Ron... Ron had stepped forward again.
"It may not be much, Voldemort, but I'm willing to shed the last drop of my blood for Harry. You'll never understand what it's like to have someone die for you because they love you. And what you don't understand will destroy you." Before anyone could stop him, Ron used the broken sword blade to nick his own forearm. "Every last drop of my blood is for my brother Harry. It will give him enough strength to kill you."
As Ron's blood trickled down to the snow at his feet, Gryffindor's sword began to glow. The golden light that sprang from the sword began from the traces of Ron's blood. Hermione gasped. She now understood how their bond would help Harry fulfill the prophecy that had been spoken long ago. She had to have her blood on the sword to be able to give her strength, her power, her very will, for Harry to use. She turned to Harry, and saw that he also knew what he had to do. She watched as he gripped Ron's arm. Ron nodded to him, and handed him the sword. Harry tore at his shirt, exposing his own forearm, and used the sword to nick his flesh. Gryffindor's sword glowed brighter. Hermione haphazardly rolled up her shirt sleeve, then reached out to take the sword from Harry. She passed the broken blade over her forearm, and she began to bleed. She handed the sword back to Harry. As Harry held the sword, his wounded arm also began to glow with a golden light.
Voldemort, sensing impending danger upon seeing the broken sword glowing, ordered his Death Eaters to attack them. But the golden light must have made it difficult for their enemies to look at the three of them directly, as curses flew wildly around them but never even came close to hitting them.
On impulse, Hermione held out her wounded arm to Ron. He gripped her outstretched hand, and she felt their magic mingle. But in the next moment, she was hit with a force so strong that she nearly fell to her knees. The force wrapped itself around her, overwhelming her with emotion, and made her tears fall. She felt as though she was a twig exposed to a furnace. It took her several moments before she finally understood what that force was: it was love. Ron's love... for her. It filled her until she couldn't hold any more. She tried to send back to him her own feelings, but she didn't know if she succeeded. All she could feel was her regret choking her, making the tears fall faster.
Harry gripped the broken sword tighter with his left hand, and touched its jagged tip to Ron and Hermione's clasped hands. She felt herself being drained of all her thoughts, all her feelings, all her strength. Everything she had was flowing into Harry, making his whole body glow. The Death Eaters standing closest to them began to scream and claw at their eyes. They had been blinded by the golden light. Yet, her own eyes remained undamaged. She was able to see the determined look on Harry's face, and the awe in Ron's.
Harry raised his wand and pointed it at Voldemort. "You've caused enough trouble here. Go away and don't ever come back." The golden light that bathed Harry's body was being sucked into his wand. The wand vibrated and glowed for several moments, and then the golden light shot out from it and headed straight for Voldemort.
Voldemort raised his own wand and cast a shield around himself to deflect the light, to avoid binding the brother wands together. But the golden light proved to be stronger than any dark magic the Dark Lord knew. Hermione watched as the golden light wrapped around the shield, forming a bubble around Voldemort.
Voldemort screamed -- a high-pitched wail that chilled Hermione's blood. He was trapped inside the bubble. None of his spells could break it. "Get me out of here!" he screamed at his Death Eaters.
Two of them leapt forward and tried to release their master. Their spells bounced off the bubble. They tore off their masks in exasperation, and Hermione recognized them: Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange.
"Do something!" their master hissed.
Hermione's eyes widened when she saw them pointing their wands at her and Ron. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" they yelled simultaneously, and she saw two bolts of green light hurtling towards them. She raised her wand, but she knew she couldn't block an Unforgivable Curse. She squeezed Ron's hand in farewell and waited for the curse to hit her.
To her surprise, the green bolt headed straight into her wand. She looked towards Ron. He had held up his own broken wand, mirroring her defiant stance, even though he had known it was useless. The energy of the curse had been absorbed into the exposed core of his wand. It glowed green and silver for an instant, and then the broken ends snapped back together. Red and gold sparks shot out of its tip, and it was whole again.
Hermione aimed her wand at Bellatrix Lestrange, as Ron aimed his at Lucius Malfoy. Neither of them attempted to recite any incantation. Hermione instinctively felt that the force that bound them together would act on its own. Identical golden beams shot out of their wands and hit the two dark wizards. She watched in horror as their robes, then their flesh, began to melt and continued melting until their bones crumbled to the ground. The other Death Eaters, seeing the fate of their comrades, fled towards Hogsmeade, where they could Disapparate to safety.
Scream after scream began to pierce the air around them. The terrible sound was coming from Voldemort. The golden bubble that had surrounded him started to contract, growing smaller and smaller, until it began to touch him, causing burns that gave off a stench worse than rotting flesh. The bubble contracted yet again, and Voldemort's robes started to burn. He burst into flame. His body twisted in agony and his arms thrashed in all directions, desperately trying to cast a spell, any spell, that would bring him relief. Hermione closed her eyes, but it didn't seem to block out the image of Voldemort being slowly consumed. His cries grew weaker as the stench of his burning flesh grew stronger. Then there was silence.
When she opened her eyes, she saw a heap of ashes and tattered robes where Voldemort had stood. The golden light of their combined magic flowed back into Harry's wand and gradually disappeared. Harry moved the sword away from her and Ron's hands, thus releasing them from their magical bond. Hermione felt her knees tremble. She tried to keep her hold on Ron's hand, but her fingers started slipping away from his. Her knees gave way, and she fell to the ground. She felt the thin layer of snow on the ground melt from the heat of her forearm, and realised she was still bleeding from her self-inflicted wound.
She looked up and saw that dusk was falling around Hogwarts. Chunks of stone were poking into her back, but she didn't care. Hogwarts was still standing. The people sheltered inside the school were safe. She had done her part. The thought made her smile before her eyes closed and darkness took her.