Disclaimer: All things HP belong to JKR, etc. I'm only borrowing her world for the fun of it, no money being made…
Author's Note: This is the end. Finally. And just in time, as I wanted to get it done before HBP.
A little bit choppy but you should be able to understand what's going on. Clearing up a few loose ends though the exciting stuff has already happened.
Thank you, everyone, who's read this fic and reviewed. You guys are the best.
No Greater Love
Chapter 6
The Beginning
The Year 1136
It was over.
The ground around them was scorched in places and cleared of everything while the air was thick with haze and the smell of sulfur and fire- all remnants of the battle that had just been fought. A battle between the two most powerful wizards of the age.
Godric forced himself to his feet, using his sword as a crutch, appreciating (not for the first time) the spell which Rowena had placed on it which had the sword change in length depending on its use. (He had used it as a dagger at times when a full-length sword would be inconvenient and now, the sword stretched out to become long enough to use almost as a cane.) His leg felt as if it had been sprained after one of Salazar's spells had sent him flying backwards to land rather heavily on one ankle and his entire body ached.
But he was alive. And he knew that Helga would be able to heal him in no time.
He was alive and it was over now.
He had won. Hogwarts would continue to stand, welcoming all witches and wizards regardless of their birth.
He had won-but at what cost?
He struggled over to where Salazar was lying, putting every ounce of his energy and his will to enable him to move, and stood there looking down at the man who had once been his closest friend and almost-brother.
Salazar was dying. His skin, always pale, had taken on a ghastly shade of gray and his breathing was labored, rattling in his chest as he fought for air. Any other wizard would have died from the onslaught of pure magic which Godric had finally thrown against him but not Salazar. Not Salazar-he was too powerful in his own right and his will too strong.
But even his will could not avert death.
Godric's eyes met Salazar's and there was no triumph in the hazel depths. There was only regret for what he had had to do. "It's over, Salazar," he said quietly.
An odd grimace-like smile curved Salazar's lips. "No," he rasped out. "It's not. You think you've won but you have not. This is greater than the two of us and this war will continue to be fought, if not through violence, in people's minds."
"You are wrong. This is over and your misguided notions of blood purity will fade with time."
Salazar gave a hacking laugh that turned into choked gasps. Blood came up, staining his robes. "Always so arrogant, Godric. But you are wrong. I, and my followers, are not defeated yet." His gaze wandered to stare off into the distance, a strange stillness coming over him.
Godric tensed; Salazar was using his not-inconsiderable talent for Divination.
"There will be another, my heir, and he will come to finish what I have started. He will come and the world will know and fear him. He will come-and not even your precious Hogwarts will be able to stand against him."
The icy blue eyes returned to stare at Godric and he marveled that Salazar could still manage to look arrogant and supremely confident, even dying and helpless. "Yes, he will come-and his name will become so feared that no one will dare to speak it aloud."
"If your heir will come," Godric responded firmly, "then so will ours. No, Salazar, as long as the evil and the divisiveness which you think to bring into this world exists, there will be heroes, champions, who will arise to defeat it. And you cannot win this war." He paused. "You are right; this war is larger than the two of us-but you still cannot win it. You will not-for there is power greater than what you know and it will always serve to defeat you."
Salazar sneered. "Believe that if you will; you were always more idealistic than suited a man, Godric."
Godric stilled, his eyes narrowing. "You've changed, Salazar," he stated flatly and now there was a clear note of weariness and regret in his tone. "You were not always as you are now, so disdainful of what is intangible."
"No, but I was weak then."
"So you say."
Godric looked down at Salazar, his eyes holding Salazar's cold gaze-until a slight shudder passed through Salazar and his eyes closed for the last time.
Godric felt a sigh well up as he looked down at the body of his former friend and now enemy. How had it come to this, he wondered yet again. How had it come to this, that he would be forced to kill someone whom he had once loved as a brother?
But it was over. Finally.
He turned away after a last look and a last sigh and then closed his eyes to Apparate back home- to Hogwarts and to Rowena…
~*~*~*~
April 1998
Pain.
Sharp, stabbing, searing pain.
His entire body was a mass of pain-except his scar. His scar that had burned him so often these past few years, was painful no longer. There had been a last burst of intense pain, agonizingly centered on his scar, until he felt as if his head would explode from it, at the last moment-and then it had ended.
Harry struggled to open his eyes and it took every last bit of remaining energy and will power to force himself to his feet. For a moment, the world swam around him and he swayed but managed, miraculously, to stay on his feet.
He looked on a field of destruction.
It had been covered in grass when he had come, having been summoned there in a kind of forced Apparition, by Voldemort.
Now, it was bare, desolate, the grass scorched away.
He half-staggered, half-walked over to where Voldemort had been standing, looked down at the hollow in the ground, scorched black, that was all that remained of Voldemort except for the single slim piece of wood, Voldemort's wand.
Slowly, wincing at the pain the movement caused, he bent and picked up the wand.
It was cold now, lifeless-and he somehow knew that it could never be used to perform magic again. The phoenix feather in it could no longer serve as a conduit to magic for any wizard; it had lost that magical property, forced from it through that last spell that had also separated Voldemort from the magical semblance of life to which he clung.
Deliberately, he snapped the now-useless wand in two. Even if it was useless, he would not leave it to become even a symbol for the scattered Death Eaters-the few living ones who had fled when they'd realized that their master was gone. They would have to be hunted out-but that was for the Aurors and the Order to do.
His work was done.
It was over.
He didn't remember what spell he had used; he wasn't sure he had ever really known it. At that last moment, when he'd been straining to maintain the connection between his wand and Voldemort's and forced the beads of light back to Voldemort's wand, he had simply felt words well up inside him, from where he didn't know, words to a spell he hadn't known but somehow was sure, at that moment, was the one spell he needed. Words to a spell he didn't know-and for a moment, he saw a glimpse of a man, dressed in clothes from another century long ago, dark-haired, and tall and heard a voice saying, It is time to end this for good, the last defeat… You must end what I began…
He didn't know how much time passed from the moment he shouted out the words until he realized that Voldemort was gone and it was over. It was a blur of pain, of light, of sound-of magic.
And now, looking down at the two pieces of Voldemort's wand in his hand, he felt the beginnings of relief.
It was over and he was alive.
He was alive-although he knew, with a certainty that admitted no doubt, that he was only alive because of the added strength and power which Hermione, Ron, Remus and Mrs. Weasley had given him. It had been the power they'd given him that had made the spell effective. It had been their sacrifice that had saved him…
For the first time since leaving Hogwarts, he allowed himself to think of her, his mind filling with an image of her face- her eyes shining with tears, her lips trembling slightly as she tried to smile without quite managing it-her voice as she said, "I love you…" An odd sensation that was part gratitude, part relief, part worry-and was entirely love-pierced his heart.
He closed his eyes, one hand gripping his wand, the other holding the pieces of Voldemort's wand, gathering the last bits of his energy, felt the tingling sensation that accompanied Apparition, and knew he was home. Home, at Hogwarts-and with her…
The distance from the edge of Hogwarts Anti-Apparition Shield around the school grounds and the castle had never seemed so long as he forced himself to continue.
He needed to get to the castle- needed to see Hermione, make sure she was alright.
He shuddered to imagine how much pain she and the others would have felt, connected as they were to him.
His steps quickened, his own pain receding from his thoughts as it was replaced by a sharp worry for those people he loved, who had risked so much for him.
He needed to see them-for he knew that if anything had happened to any of them, the price for victory would have been too high.
~*~
Pain.
Consuming her until her awareness of her surroundings vanished and all she knew was pain, burning, searing agony.
She felt blackness overtaking her mind, oblivion which would provide welcome relief from the pain-but not yet. She struggled, clinging to consciousness with everything she had in her. She needed to know; she needed to stay awake until she knew-as somehow she was sure she would-that Harry was okay and Voldemort was gone. She needed to know about Harry; she clung to that thought, that one over-riding concern, steadfastly resisting the beckoning of release from the agony. She needed to know…
And then she did.
From somewhere, some corner of her mind and heart, she knew. Maybe it was the added connection they had that told her; maybe it was just her instinctive knowledge that he was no longer in mortal danger. Whatever it was, irrational as it sounded even to her, she just knew. It was over.
She couldn't smile, couldn't even feel relief. She could only gasp, "Harry," just that one word which represented the reason for everything she'd done-before she lost the battle, slipping into merciful unconsciousness.
He was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes.
Someone, probably McGonagall, had moved her from the "safe room" in the depths of the castle where she, and Ron and Remus and Mrs. Weasley had waited after Harry's departure, to the Hospital Wing. Her body felt heavy and there was no pain and she knew she'd been given a Pain-killing Potion.
He was lying in the bed next to hers which someone- she guessed it had been him- had pushed up as close as possible to her own bed.
And his hand was holding hers.
She smiled through sudden tears.
It was over. Harry had done it; he had survived (she could hear his even breathing and it was, at that moment, the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard). He was safe now.
And now she felt relief, so powerful and so heady it made her dizzy for a moment. After years of worrying over Harry, her worst fears were over and Harry was safe. He was safe.
And that was all she needed to know.
She felt sleep overtake her again and let her eyes close. He was safe…
When she awoke again, it was to find him looking at her.
For a moment they just looked, letting their eyes wander over the other to reassure themselves that each was relatively unharmed and in one piece.
She was the first one to speak. "Hi," she said softly and even that most simple of greetings somehow seemed profound in that moment of silent, powerful emotion.
"Hi."
"How long- when did you get back?"
"Yesterday."
The words were commonplace but they let their eyes say the rest.
I love you.
I love you. I'm so glad you're okay.
I did it for you. I couldn't have done it without you…
"How are Ron and Mrs. Weasley and Remus?" she asked in quick concern.
"Ron is sleeping still," he said with a slight motion of his head to indicate a bed behind her. "Mrs. Weasley woke up and insisted on being allowed to return to the Burrow with strict instructions by Madam Pomfrey as to how often she needs to take the Potion she took with her. Remus is fine; he woke up and is meeting with the Order, despite Madam Pomfrey's orders to rest, to talk about what to do now."
She smiled, hearing the soul-deep relief in Harry's tone that made his simple recitation of facts so poignant.
"Then it's really over."
"Yes, it's over," he said soberly.
And finally, knowing that nothing would ever separate them again, slowly, he bent and kissed her. Kissed her softly, tenderly, at first, and then deeper, as her hands tangled in his hair, her arms drawing him down closer to her.
Kissed her as he knew he would gladly kiss her for the rest of their lives…
And felt the last remaining traces of fear and worry disappear for good, the final shadow cast by Voldemort gone.
The war was over-and at that moment, with Hermione in his arms, his lips on hers, his last thought before all thoughts vanished in a haze of desire, was that this was only the beginning. The beginning of the rest of his life, the beginning of his freedom from a destiny he had never wanted… This was only the beginning of love, that he knew would last forever and only grow stronger and deeper with every day… Only the beginning…
The End