The Final….Closing Scene…Book 7.
Rated PG-13
Standard disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended. This is merely for entertainment purposes.
Author's notes: I wanted to thank both Marie Granger and Dome36 for their feedback on this story. This is my attempt to look at the clues in canon and try to predict how I think it will all end. Read at your own risk of being forever spoiled…
Harry Potter opened the door slowly and saw his worst fear before him. At the front of the chapel stood Voldemort and Snape, they were standing over the outstretched body of Hermione Granger who lay motionless on a table.
Voldemort gave a wicked smile as he saw Harry approach.
"You could have saved your precious Mudblood, but your opposing me and my loyal followers has led to this. It is too late for her, but you can still save yourself. Bow down to me, promise me your fealty and I shall let you have a better fate than hers."
Anger coursed through Harry's body. He couldn't believe that Dumbledore had ever trusted Snape. It had led to his death, Harry was sure of it. He simply didn't believe that Dumbledore had died of old age. Now, Snape had caused Hermione's death. Harry felt a hatred for Snape more acute than he did for Voldemort. He had lost his parents when he was a young child, and lost Sirius two years before. Those losses had been hard for him to accept, but the thought of losing Hermione seemed to pierce a large hole in his heart.
Harry glared at Snape, ignoring what Voldemort had just said. "You did this to her."
"Yes," Snape answered coolly. "She was always a very trusting young woman. She seemed to believe that any teacher hired by Dumbledore was to be trusted. She didn't understand that a spy is someone never to be trusted, that trust led to where she is now. At least she had some spark of intelligence; you however have always been a dullard. From that very first lesson, you demonstrated to me that you were merely trying to coast on your celebrity status. I doubt that a single thing useful thing has ever penetrated that thick skull of yours."
Harry felt bile rising in the back of his throat. It was just like Snape to remind him of that first day of school when he was asked all sorts of questions about potions Harry couldn't have known about. Harry could still remember angrily writing "powdered root of asphodel" and "infusion of wormwood" with his quill after suffering that public humiliation. He then remembered something from that overgrown bat had said in his self-aggrandizing speech, something about trying to stopper death. Harry looked at Snape's glittering eyes and began to wonder if Snape was trying to give him a clue. Perhaps Hermione wasn't dead after all; maybe she was just under the effects of a sleeping potion.
"Master, perhaps this boy should have some time to reflect on his options," Snape said. "He's never been very bright, and now that his private tutor has been taken away from him, he's going to have to do some thinking on his own for a change. He needs to decide if he would rather join us and share in power over the weak, agree to be banished from our world, or if he'd rather go the heroic martyr's route and be imprisoned like his late godfather."
"Yessss," Voldemort hissed, "perhaps the boy needs a little time to decide. I shall give you one hour's time to decide your fate. Live as my servant, be banished forever or survive as a prisoner."
He then conjured a large hourglass with emerald beads in it. Voldemort placed it on the table next to Hermione and the beads started running to the bottom.
"When the hour is up, I shall return for your answer. Needless to say, you will not be allowed to leave this building. Enjoy spending some time with your dead Mudblood girlfriend."
With the swish of two cloaks, the two people on earth that Harry loathed the most left the chapel.
Harry sunk to his knees and placed his face in his hands. He needed to think, but was feeling overwhelmed. He could never join the Dark Side, nor could he leave and allow them free reign to terrorize Wizards and Muggles alike. And living as a prisoner? How would that be living?
No, what he needed was Hermione. He needed her by his side, only then would he know what needed to be done.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something hidden in the corner of the pedestal. It was a mortar and pestle. He lifted it up and smelled the powder clinging to the sides. It had the acrid smell of wormwood. Perhaps she was only asleep. The Draught of Living Death…His mind jammed as he was trying to think back to the rest of that painful lesson so many years ago.
"Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
The stomach of a goat. That's where he should look. A goat, but where was he going to find a goat? He couldn't leave the building, and his wand had been taken from him earlier that day. He felt utterly helpless and alone. Harry closed his eyes and started thinking back to his second year when he fervently wished for help to come and somehow Fawkes came to his aid. Maybe it could happen again, if he asked for help.
Suddenly a plan came to Harry. As he kneeled and prayed for Fawkes to appear, he heard the familiar cry of the phoenix as it appeared out of thin air and came to rest at his feet. Harry stroked the bird and then started going through Hermione's book bag that lay on the ground beneath the table. He found a quill, parchment and a small ink bottle.
Ron,
This is an emergency! Get my father's cloak and map and go to the Hogshead Inn and tell Aberforth that you need a bezoar. Use my Firebolt, and then bring the stone to me at the chapel behind the cemetery.
Hermione's life is at stake, there is no time to waste.
Harry
He gave the note to Fawkes and told the bird to take it immediately to Ron. Harry could only hope that Ron could fly out the Gryffindor Tower window wearing the Invisibility Cloak and get past the Death Eaters that had laid siege to the castle. Harry began to pace in nervousness, but found that it only increased his anxiety. He turned and looked closely at Hermione, trying to see if there were any signs of life left in her.
Hermione looked as if she were peacefully sleeping; however there was no rise and fall of her chest to indicate that she was breathing. She was still, as still as a statue. Harry was forcefully reminded of her being petrified in their second year. At that time, her eyes were wide open and her hand was outstretched as she had held a mirror to protect herself from the fatal gaze of the basilisk. Now her eyes were closed and her hands were at her side.
As if she was merely asleep.
Harry grasped her hand and felt that it was as cold as ice. Her fingers were soft and not like a rock, but they were as cold as death.
"Don't die, Hermione," he pleaded. "Please don't die. We've been through so much together. Remember when we first met? The first thing you did when you learned my name was to tell me how many books you had read with me in them. I should have known then, that you'd always keep me on my toes."
He looked at her sleeping face and wished that she would blink, or smile, or frown, or something. Some sign of recognition. Nothing.
What Harry wouldn't give to see her smile again, to see that spark of fierce determination in her eyes. She meant the world to him, and it was only now with the fear that he might lose her forever that he started to realize how important she was to him. She had always been loyal to him, even when it angered him. She had witnessed him almost dying in their third year when he fell off his Nimbus 2000, so she freaked out when he got the Firebolt anonymously. She was right about its source, and she risked his wrath to try and protect his life. He had been such a prat towards her, because he temporarily lost a racing broom. She never once in all their years together doubted him, his abilities or his sincerity. She pushed him to succeed, and at times he resisted it, but he needed her.
Harry needed Hermione badly.
He was mentally willing the idea that there was still time to save her life. He wouldn't consider the possibility that she was already dead. He couldn't.
Ron finally appeared in the doorway, looking out of breath and frantic. Harry ran to his friend and took the stone from him. Ron was staring at the front of the church at Hermione as tears began to fall down his cheeks.
"She's not…" he began.
"I don't know," said Harry as he hurriedly went back to her side.
Harry touched her cold face and pried open her jaw to place the small stone under her tongue. He didn't know how long it would take to work, if it would work at all.
Ron had come forward, knelt, and bowed his head in front of Hermione.
Harry leaned over and began to stroke and caress her cold face. He brushed the hair away from her eyes. She was cold, so cold. He felt a mixture of hope and dread fear course through his body. He kept reminding himself that there was still time, that there was still hope.
"Don't leave me," he pleaded. "I need you, Hermione. You've always been by my side. I can't make it without you."
He began to feel his emotions wash over him. "I love you, Hermione," he said as he gently kissed her cold, lifeless lips.
Harry tasted the saltiness of his tears as he continued trying to revive her through sheer force of will. And then, he felt a slight change in the kiss. Hermione's lips began to warm up and he began to realize that his very own Galatea's eyes had opened and she was looking up at him.
"Harry," she said grasping his hand.
"You're alive," he croaked as he helped her sit up. "Be careful, there's a stone in your mouth," he warned as he helped her remove it.
She looked at him and appeared groggy at first, but quickly recovered as tears welled in her eyes.
"I couldn't move at all, but I heard everything. I heard everything you said," Hermione whispered. "I love you, Harry. I've always loved you."
Harry crushed her in his arms and clung to her. As he held her in his arms, he began to draw strength from her. He began to see that there was a fifth alternative that he had never considered. For years, he thought that he would have to murder Voldemort, but now he saw another way. One that didn't involve trying to kill the evil wizard with his bare hands.
Harry looked at the hourglass, and saw that there were only a few minutes left. He had to tell his friends what was about to happen. He kissed Hermione on the forehead and held her at arms length with his hands on her shoulders, "I couldn't have lived with myself if you had died. I didn't know what I was going to do, but now that both you and Ron are here, I know the course I must take."
Harry turned and saw that Ron had a look of utter anguish on his face.
"Voldemort knows that he and I share a magical bond between us. If I die, he dies. That's why he wants me alive, but I will never serve him," Harry then cradled Hermione's face in his hands. "I'd love to try and start a new life with you somewhere far away like Barbados, and try to forget everything and everyone we left behind, but it wouldn't work. We couldn't be happy knowing that people here were being tortured and killed so that we could try to live 'normal lives.' I couldn't bear it if Ron, Ginny or the twins or anyone else were harmed. And if I don't do this, he will kill you and I couldn't bear for that to happen."
"What are you going to do?" asked Hermione fearfully.
"The only thing that I can do. I have to say goodbye to this life, for everyone's sake."
"No, Harry, you can't kill yourself," Hermione said forcefully.
"You're right," he said kissing her cheek. "I can't do that."
Harry then turned and placed a hand on Ron's shoulder. "I need your help. When he returns, I need for you to do the biggest favour anyone could ever ask. You were willing to die for me in our first year, in order to stop him. Now I need you to do what I can't, you must stop him by killing me."
Ron had a look of terror in his eyes. "Harry, please, no…"
"It's the only way," Harry insisted. "Use the Severing Charm on me, only do it clean. I don't want to end up like Sir Nick."
"Harry - I-" protested Ron.
"You must give me your word," said Harry firmly. Ron looked resolute and nodded.
Hermione embraced Harry and sobbed on his shoulder. He calmly stroked her hair.
"Take care of her for me," said Harry to Ron. "I know you love her as much as I do."
Ron nodded again as he tried to blink back his tears.
As the last emeralds fell through the hourglass, the doors opened and Snape and Voldemort entered the chapel.
"Well, well, it seems that Snape didn't kill the little Mudblood after all," Voldemort said. "You surprised me and you know how I dislike surprises. I didn't realize that you had a soft spot for young love, Severus. That is a weakness that I shall deal with later. But it does allow for a greater dilemma for you, Harry Potter. Now I can see exactly how much she means to you. It would be a pity for you to lose her twice Harry, but if you don't join me, I will kill her myself with you as a witness."
Harry then gave Hermione one last kiss, walked over to the table and nodded to Ron who lifted his wand and uttered the Severing Charm.
As Voldemort began to comprehend what was happening he yelled, "NOOOOOOO!!!!!"
It was too late. No amount of wand work from the most evil sorcerer of all time could stop the decapitation of Harry Potter, nor of the parallel decapitation of Voldemort. Blood spilled forth like twin fountains from the two bodies, one young and red, one old and black. The blood mixed in the air and on the floor.
Hermione was covered in Harry's blood and sank to her knees and prayed. Her heart was filled with an immense love for Harry, so much that it shook her soul.
"You can't leave me Harry, you can't leave me, I love you, you can't leave me, I won't let you," she said fervently.
A rush of wind blew the doors to the chapel open and a swirl of leaves encircled the altar. As it moved around the room, an ethereal glow emanated from it. Hermione felt hope rise in her heart as the spiral reached the dead form of her beloved. She closed her eyes and prayed and saw the form of Harry rise and his head reattach itself in her Mind's Eye.
She opened her eyes and saw the smiling face of Harry Potter looking at her.
"I think you found a way to unlock that special door that Dumbledore told me about."
She laughed and cried as she kissed him. Harry held her close to him, and then whispered, "Thank you for saving my life."
"Sure, anytime. Thank you for saving mine."
They turned to Ron, who looked shocked.
"Wh-what happened?" he asked. "You - you were dead, and now…"
"Voldemort was defeated by a power that he's never known. Your love for me, helped give me the strength and courage to do the right thing, but Hermione's love was strong enough to resurrect me to life. What saved me was the Power of Love. "
Hermione gave Harry a knowing smile and then said, "It's strong and it's sudden. It can be cruel sometimes…"
Harry started to laugh when he recognized what she meant and joined in with her singing, "But it might just saaave your liiiife."
Ron frowned at them, "You two are mental."
"Yeah, well, it's been one of those days," Harry admitted. "Thank goodness I'm done with school...I'd hate to think that next year in June I could face anything worse."
Harry then looked up at Snape who had walked over to them, and was surprised to see that the Potions master was wearing a genuine smile on his face.
"You did well, Harry," he said. "You passed the test with flying colours. No one can claim that your defeat of the Dark Lord this time was by sheer luck. It was due to your stout heart. And look," he said rolling up his left sleeve. "The Dark Mark is gone. His followers will be abandoning their posts knowing that their Master has been defeated. A new day has dawned, and now there is a brighter future. Thanks to you and your friends."
Harry looked at him and wondered, just what is up with Snape? He began to think that maybe Dumbledore was right in trusting him after all.
"Harry," Hermione said touching his forehead, "your scar. It's gone."
"Is it?" he said sounding surprised and happy. He looked at the body of the dead wizard on the floor. "Good. That means that I'm finally freed of him and that wretched prophecy."
Hermione slid her arm behind Harry's back as they walked out of the chapel into the rays of the setting sun. It had been one of the worst days in Harry's life, but now it was turning out to be one of his best. He now had a bright future to look forward to. He had finished his last exams a few days before, no longer had the Sword of Damocles hanging over his head now that Voldemort was finally dead, and he had finally realized that he was in love with his best friend and the woman of his dreams. He could also look forward to possibly living a "normal life" as a wizard. Sure, he would still be known as "The Boy Who Lived" and now "The Young Man Who Vanquished Voldemort," but he wouldn't be as quite as recognizable in public now that he no longer bore that accursed scar.
***
Author's comments: I wound up changing the ending to this slightly, upon Marie Granger's suggestion. I had merely put in the Power of Love, which she correctly started thinking of the great Huey Lewis song. I had wanted to make people think of it in a subtle manner. She thought it should be more explicit, and to leave people in a better ending mood. So I did.
So, yes, I did include some lyrics from the song, "The Power of Love" by Huey Lewis and the News.
I also think, deep in my bones, that Neville will have some kind of role in the final showdown. I just can't figure out how to include him, so I didn't. I also have no idea whatsoever the magical significance of Harry's green eyes, so I didn't include that either. However, the other aspects of the story are what I am expecting come the final chapter.
Dome 36 suggested that I try and write this scene again with the perspectives of Ron and Hermione, to see what they were feeling during this ordeal. I now have, so just click on the next chapter where you'll see Ron's POV. I've almost finished Hermione's POV, but am still tweaking the text slightly.