Chapter Twenty-one
Neither Can Live
The nightmarish scene on Westminster Bridge in the centre of London would have done credit to the most warped imagination, but other than the creatures involved in this deadly play there was no one around to apply such thought. On the south side of the bridge the trolls and giants were ranged across its width, as they marched slowly up the slight incline toward the beleaguered forces of the Brotherhood of Merlin. They were being hard pressed by the dark witches and wizards Voldemort had already set against them and were being pushed back to the north bank under the shadow of the tower often called Big Ben.
In the centre of the bridge seemingly unaware and uninterested in the battle going on around them were five figures. A group of three one bound tight with rope, a long faced blonde haired youth, and a bald man with slit like apertures where his nose should be and burning red eyes, were closest to the advancing trolls and giants. Some way in front of them a tall dark cloaked man stood in the very centre of the bridge, in amongst all the abnormality that was occurring this night this man was the most abnormal. The darkness surrounding his cloak appeared to flicker out and cancel the light provided by the moon and the street lamps that lined the sides of the roadway. He was turned slightly towards the group of three arm outstretched making hooking movements with one of his long fingers toward the bald man who seemed to be trying to resist some compulsion to cross over to this strange apparition. Involved as this central figure was with this strange deformed man, his attention never wavered from the final person included in this weird tableau. A young man dressed in a long black coat stood still and implacable as if he would bar the passage of anyone daring to cross the bridge. That he should try this appeared suicidal that he might just be capable of doing it was manifested in the golden glow that surrounded him and that amber fire shot from his normally emerald green eyes as he stared his opponents down.
Behind this young man battled the forces of Voldemort and the Brotherhood of Merlin and by weight of numbers and not skill the dark wizards were winning. Many of Harry Potter's allies had fallen some never to rise again, but in their defeat they were carrying out the purpose of the Brotherhood, to give the chosen one the time to fight and with luck the chance to win. And now the time to fight had arrived. The impasse on the bridge was broken by the one wizard who appeared to be in the least favourable position.
In their slow advance across the bridge Voldemort had given neither Severus Snape or Draco Malfoy much thought. The former was bound tight and the later scared out of his wits, but scared though Draco was his wits had not entirely left him. Taking great care not to be seen he feigned ducking down to avoid one of the stray spells flying past and scooped a discarded wand from the road, hiding it up the sleeve of his robe he now wondered what on earth he was to do with it. He watched with mounting trepidation the almost silent battle between the wizard which had boiled out of the scar on Harry Potter's forehead and Voldemort. Almost silent because Draco could hear the grunts of effort as Voldemort fought to resist the summons from the Dark Lord, and with a quick sidelong glance at his former Potions Professor, Draco acted. He touched the wand to the ropes binding Snape's arms to his sides and they vanished leaving wisps of smoke where they had once been.
Voldemort was too preoccupied to notice that Snape was lose, and Severus, taking his and Draco's one and only chance, grabbed the boy and began to run. They had passed by Harry who had ignored the distraction of their escape and almost made it to the dubious safety of the general mêlée on the northern half of the bridge, when Voldemort caught the movement of the running figures out of the corner of his eye and gave vent to a cry of rage.
"TRATOR!" and, in his final act as a wizard, Voldemort flung his hatred from his wand. The curse caught Severus in the back and threw him forward bringing Draco down hard on the road. The man who had caused Harry Potter so much pain and heart ache in his years at Hogwarts, crumpled and slid over the ground. He came to rest at the feet of a young witch, with a smoking hole in her chest, who lay still and quiet, but Severus Snape saw none of this, his sightless eyes open in the shock of his own death.
The Dark Lord used the moment of distraction as Voldemort cast his curse at the running man. In that instant he struck, overwhelming Voldemort with his power, and drawing from the dark wizard every last drop of his magical essence. Voldemort was no more, the Dark Lord had reduced him to shell, a being called Tom Riddle, a man armed with a stick. Tom gasped and fell to his knees the yew wand dropping from nerveless fingers, it twitched once as it hit the ground then took off again, flying through the air, to the hand of the totally solid, and very real, shade who was now truly the Dark Lord a wizard who was more complete and powerful than ever.
This was the fight that had awaited Harry since the night his parents were taken from him. He was not destined to battle with the reconstituted Tom Riddle, now reduced to something that was less than a wizard; his fight was to be with the original, The Dark Lord, The Voldemort, that had strode up the path to the door of the cottage in Godrics Hollow and destroyed Harry's family for no reason other than that they opposed him. The Dark Lord that in his arrogance tried to kill a little boy who even then was protected by a magic so old that only Lily, an old man, and a scarlet and gold plumed phoenix fully understood. Once again this wizard faced the boy that had so nearly ended his life, last time he had expected to kill him, this time he was sure he would succeed.
The wand made of yew with the phoenix feather at its core spat concentrated magic at the young man in the black coat, but dwelling inside Harry was the power of the phoenix itself and that power responded. The air around the two wizards at the centre of the bridge sparked and crackled with the power that was flowing between the two. Bolts of lightening crashed, out one struck an unlucky troll and he was reduced to a pile of grey ash in an instant. The violence of the duel was such that the secondary battle slowly came to a stop the warring sides stunned into inactivity by the display of forces none of them could ever reach or comprehend. Into the consciousness of some of the remaining Brotherhood, almost surrounded now by the dark wizards, crept a sound as incongruous and unbelievable as those occurring out on the bridge.
The sound popped and banged rising and falling in volume first quiet then louder but each of the louder sounds was greater than the last, something was coming getting closer with each passing second. Then over the buildings on the north side of the river balanced it seemed rather unsteadily in the air flew a car, a pale blue Ford Anglia, dipped and bucked as it slowly descended to the road that led to Westminster Bridge. The car hit the ground rather hard, and bounced into the air again before its wheels made permanent contact with the tarmac. It rolled silently forward to come to rest within feet of the nearest of the stunned combatants. The sole occupant of the vehicle eased his long frame from its interior, his long white beard, which was tucked into his belt, shone, and the light from the street lamps sparkled off his half moon glasses. Albus Dumbledore reached into the car and removed from it his tall hat and a sword inset with rubies. He placed the hat on his head and held the weapon with business like efficiency.
Those dark wizards near him backed away with mutterings of alarm, which turned to shouts of chagrin, as the old man gestured with the sword. The view of the buildings and road to the north wrinkled and was then pulled aside, as a huge invisible curtain opened revealing hundreds of magical folk. Witches and wizards, and creatures of the Forbidden Forest began to march through, bringing with them the smell of heather and the fresh air of the Scottish Highlands. If this was not enough to quell the darkest heart, from high above the river the cry of a dragon rent the air, the sound of his wings cutting through the air caused further consternation.
The giants and trolls, exposed as they were on the far side of the bridge, looked skyward in fear at the noise, and the gout of flame released from the dragon's throat made them turn and attempt to run. Escape was not an option, Norbert had these creatures in his sights and he was not about to let them go. He belched once, twice, three times, and huge balls of flame shot from his frightening maw to land around the giants and trolls, whose frantic efforts to escape only resulted in more carnage. Norbert landed extended his wings to fill the road from side to side and stretched his neck up and up. Trapped by fire and the dragon the giants made one last effort to barge their way passed but Norbert drew in a deep breath and then he slowly let it go. The fire that roared from his throat went on and on, it seemed that it would never stop, and as he weaved his neck from side to side he incinerated everything.
The loss of their large allies was enough for most of the dark wizards now standing in shock on the north side of the bridge. They may have significantly reduced the numbers of the blue robed wizards, but they realised that with the appearance of Dumbledore, a man who should have been dead, and his army, there was no way they could win. In ones and twos they began to throw down their wands, capture and incarceration had to be preferable to death; at least that is what they hoped.
Despite their capitulation the night's reckoning was not over. Out on the bridge the duel between Harry and the Dark Lord still raged, neither one able to defeat the other, the elemental forces released were stupendous, it was a fight of attrition and would continue until both would be destroyed; there could be no other outcome.
The reinforcements that had streamed through the portal quickly took the surrender of the dark wizards and forcing them aside cleared the roadway. Albus Dumbledore strode out and up the gentle incline onto the bridge as quickly as his ailing body would allow. The Ford Anglia followed the old man. It kept close feeding him the magic of Hogwarts that had given the car a life of its own, and now in turn, was keeping the old man alive. Dumbledore tried to focus his attention on Harry, but the sight of friends and acquaintances strewn on the ground pulled at the heart of the old man. There was sadness to see that Severus Snape's past had finally brought him down and he could not hold back the tears from his eyes as he passed the quiet form of Hermione, lying where Bellatrix Lestrange's curse had thrown her. Although he yearned to help he could not stop, Harry had to be his concern now, he didn't have much time left and he owed it all to the young man fighting for his life.
Some yards away, all that remained of Tom Riddle was trying to get to his feet, his body racked with pain and despair, and a look of complete madness on his deformed face. He had been cheated, brought down by no one other than himself, it wasn't fair and he wanted his magic back. Like a child unable to get his own way Tom began to yell and scream banging his fist onto the road in his frustration.
'There was his magic, his own soul had stolen it, ripped it from him, but he was going to get it back. He would bite, kick, and scratch, he would beat him with his fists; he would make the big bully give it to him'.
However impotent his attack on Harry and The Dark Lord would be Albus Dumbledore could not allow Tom to try; an ill-considered interruption would kill them all. So as Riddle stumbled along the road and his intention became clear, the old Headmaster gestered with one hand and with a growl and grinding of gears Arthur Weasley's old car, gathered speed, rushed passed Dumbledore, and the duelling pair, and very deliberately ran Tom Riddle down. Tom made only the slightest scream, as the car knocked him over and he passed under it's wheels; as he died his reconstituted body began to dissolve and return to it component parts. The bone of the father unknowingly given; the flesh of the servant willingly given; and the blood of the enemy forcibly taken; lay in a wet steaming puddle at the side of the road.
Albus Dumbledore walked as close as he dared to stand behind Harry, the magical force of the duel plucked at his robe and threatened to pull his hat from his head. His timing had to be just right, he only had the one chance, closing his eyes he concentrated on his life force and he slowly brought it to the surface. Dumbledore's life was long, and although he may not always have made the right decisions, the decisions he made were made for the right reasons; they had all led him to this moment, and the reason for his existence began to shine forth.
Brighter and brighter he shone. Harry with his back to the old man and busy as he was saw nothing but for The Dark Lord it was a different matter. Over Harry's shoulder, he could see the man who had thwarted him at every turn, shining with his inner light lending his support to this young wizard, and it disturbed him. In that fatal moment he lost the total commitment that was necessary to hold Harry at bay, and the force of Harry's attack made him take a step back.
That was the sign Dumbledore had waited for. He threw Gryffindors sword toward Harry, who without the slightest break in his concentration or his magical attack, sensed its presence and snatched it out of the air. With one mighty stroke he brought the blade down and across the chest of the wizard before him. The Dark Lord tottered on his feet and blood gushed from his mouth and the wound that passed from shoulder to hip. He dropped heavily to his knees and then over onto his side his heart cut in two.
For a few seconds Harry stood looking down at the body lying at his feet, the phoenix in him exulted in the victory but Harry's own consciousness felt less than comfortable with what he had done. He knew it was necessary, but he didn't have to like it. Then Harry became aware of the person standing behind him, he turned to stare into the glowing face of Albus Dumbledore.
"Professor," said Harry wearily, "It's done."
"Yes Harry, you did magnificently," the old man said kindly to the tired young man.
Harry's eyes turned to the body strewn bridge. "Was all this really necessary? Was there no way to avoid this?"
The Headmaster's shoulders sagged, "No Harry this was the only way. The price of victory has always been high; sometimes I have thought it was too high. But whatever the price this time, I know that what has happened today, will bring a lasting peace and bind the wizarding world closer than ever before."
The glow surrounding the old man began to brighten, and Harry had to shield his eyes.
"Professor?" there was more in the question than just the one word.
The old man smiled, "I told you once that, my power was weak and that it was the castle that was sustaining me, did I not? He didn't wait for Harry to answer. "Well it would seem that my time is finally running out."
"NO." Harry reached toward Dumbledore, the amber fire in his eyes intensified. "I won't allow it."
But the old wizard stayed his hand, "Not this time Harry, I am content to let it end here. These last few months have been very tiring for me; it is time for me to rest. Live well Harry." Dumbledore flared to incandescence, forcing Harry to close his eyes against the glare, and then with a quiet pop his light was extinguished and when Harry opened his eyes again the old Headmaster was gone.
The peoples of the wizarding world were gathered at the end of the bridge. All of them the good and the bad had seen the fight, its end in victory or defeat, depending on which side they were seeing it from and then the departure of Albus Dumbledore. Now they were all staring at the last remaining figure out on the bridge, some in awe and some in trepidation, as his eyes appeared to flash with golden flames. He scanned the crowd, he was looking for someone, but he couldn't seem to find them, and then his eyes unwillingly examined the fallen, and he saw her.
The cry of anguish from his throat rent the night sky, and the power within him burst forth, to those watching it was if they had lost one Dark Lord, only to replace him with another, more terrible and powerful than the last.
Harry moved so quickly that he became a blur, and then he was there at Hermione's side. Her eyes were closed and her expression peaceful, Harry could see the great rent in her coat and the few wisps of smoke that still coiled up from the blasted edges. He knelt by her side and the amber tears that were filling his eyes fell freely to splash on the ground sparkling with the magic they contained until they darkened and rolled away. With shaking hands Harry reached out and touched Hermione, he carefully undid her coat and pulled the scorched hide away, he expected to see the devastation that the spell had wrought on her body, instead there was a large plate with a glassy surface lying over her chest, it was pitted and blackened by the magic it had repelled but it was moving up and down, ever so slightly, in time with Hermione's shallow breathing.
"Harry, Harry!" it was Remus, "I am so sorry."
Harry turned to look into the human face of his old friend, and smiled. "It's ok Remus she's alive," The grief stricken expression of the last of the Marauders turned into a smile of partial relief at Hermione's survival, but still tinged with worry at his lack of knowledge concerning the fate of Harry's other friend.
"It was Ron, he must have made her wear this," Harry continued, oblivious to Remus' disquiet, and indicating the large thick dragon scale that was strung from Hermione's neck. "It's an old back plate from a Russian Blue, Charlie gave it to him years ago, I've seen it hanging on his bedroom wall."
Harry stopped realising that he was babbling in his relief. "I must get Hermione to Madam Pomfrey, I'll thank Ron later, tell him for me." And he scooped Hermione into his arms and with a flash of golden light the pair vanished.
The hospital wing at Hogwarts carried it usual air of quiet efficiency as madam Pomfrey dealt with the few injured witches and wizards the healers at St. Mungo's were too busy to attend to. If she was surprised at Harry's unorthodox entry to the ward she didn't show it. She was surprised that it was Hermione Harry had clasped in his arms, as several people had told her of the young woman's death at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange.
"On the bed here Harry," the nurse instructed him, and Harry carefully laid his burden on the white sheets. One glance was all that Madam Pomfrey needed to ascertain that the news of Miss Granger's death were somewhat premature but perhaps not by much. Poppy lifted the inch thick dragon scale and cut the string from around Hermione's neck. Despite the protection from Ron's bedroom ornament Hermione's skin was burnt and bruised, her breathing remained shallow and her lips had a bluish cast to them.
"Umm… the scale deflected the magic alright Harry but the blow to her chest was still considerable," the nurse looked worriedly at the young man with the glowing golden eyes. "I don't know how much damage she has in there, it doesn't look too hopeful."
Harry's elation and certainty that Hermione was going to be fine was crushed from him and again he felt the despair and anger build up and flare out. He laid a flaming hand to Hermione's chest but all he could feel was the hopelessness at ever being able to repair the damage he found. If the power of the phoenix had resided in someone trained in the healing arts then maybe it would have been different, but this was still plain old Harry and all he could offer was an abounding love for the young witch before him and his inability broke his heart and the tears rose in him yet again.
This time as the magically charged tears fell a quick thinking Poppy grabbed a goblet and braved Harry's golden flames, plunging her hand in to catch the drops of liquid that fell so freely.
Harry, in his grief, was not aware as Poppy carefully raised Hermione's head and gently trickled the tears between her lips, but his flaming hand did register the changes that they wrought. Under his burning palm Harry knew she was healing and the power of the phoenix that was in him calmed and the flames went out.
Hermione's breathing deepened the ugly marks on her skin began to fade and then she opened her eyes. "Hi," the word was faint and barely audible, but the little smile that creased her lips was like a fanfare of trumpets to Harry and he laughed in joy.
"Hi yourself,"
"Did we win?"
"Yes, we did but I'll tell you about it later, rest now." And as if in obedience to his suggestion Hermione sighed, closed her eyes and slept.
For as long as he sat there and watched her, Poppy Pomfrey watched Harry. He was so different from the young boy she had first met all that time ago. For one thing he didn't have glowing eyes then, and he wasn't carrying the weight of everything that had happened to him in the intervening years, culminating in the events of this night. Some of the patients that had arrived most recently had mentioned the way Harry had reacted in finding Hermione and their fears of a wizard so powerful. Poppy did not want to see Harry go the way of Tom Riddle so once calm had returned to the ward with all the patients tucked up in bed she sought him out.
"What are you going to do with it Harry?" the obliqueness of her question made him look up and regard the nurse with his burning eyes.
"Do with what, Madam Pomfrey?"
"All the power Harry, you know there is no one who could stand in your way. You could make the wizarding world follow you; you could make it the way you want it to be."
"I suppose I could," he replied quietly, "I hadn't really thought about it, but I didn't do all this for me, I did it for Hermione and for witches like her, and I did it for Ron and wizards like him." Harry gave an ironic laugh. "And in a way I suppose I did it for muggles like my uncle and aunt, and dear old Dudley." Harry gazed at the bed filled ward and the occupants of those beds. "They were frightened of me, weren't they, when I thought Hermione was dead and let it all go?"
"Yes Harry they were."
"Well I don't want that. This world of ours has had enough of Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, and Dark Lords to last a very long time, and I don't intent to take the job."
Harry held out his hands, palm up over Hermione's bed, and fixed his eyes on the cup he formed with them. Amber flames flashed out, and Harry began to glow again, but slowly the halo of light left his body and was pushed down his out stretched arms, so that only his hands retained the golden light. Then even that was gone, and all that remained in Harry's cupped hands was a pile of grey ashes. The ashes broke apart, and some of them spilled out of Harry's hands down onto the white bed sheets below, as an incredibly ugly phoenix chick pushed his head clear and turned to look at his new master.
"Lo Fawkes," said Harry and the little bird gave a squawk and a trill of cheeps that sounded like a laugh.
Harry placed the re-born phoenix in a shallow bowl on the table by Hermione's head, and the bird cheeped softly to the sleeping girl.
"There," said Harry looking back once more to the nurse who was smiling at him, "All gone, I am just plain Harry now, just Harry."
"Oh my dear," Poppy could not help the emotion from getting to her, "you have never been and never will be just Harry. You are much, much more than that."
When Hermione awoke several hours later she found Harry fast asleep. Sitting in the chair by her bed, with his top half bent over and sprawled across her he looked most uncomfortable. She reached down, and with a gentle caress, stroked the side of his face. She allowed her fingers to wander through Harry's hair it was more tangled than usual and there was a distinct smell of smoke wafting up from it. There was a small sound from a bed further down the ward and Hermione glanced up there was no one there but her eyes caught the view out of the window.
It was still dark outside but the sky she could see through the window at the end of the ward held that first promise of dawn not being too far away, and then the feeling hit her in a rush, the excitement of a dawn that would break on a day that was free of Voldemort, dark wizards and the fear of sudden death, and she could not help but laugh. Although not loud the sound of merriment encroached on the sleeping wizard and Harry opened his eyes. She was still staring up out of the window and Harry saw the brightness in her eyes and the happiness on her face and he fell in love with her all over again. A slight movement caused her gaze to snap down, and there he was awake rising up, and then in an intertwining of arms in an embrace so strong that it seemed he would never let go. The sweetness of his lips on hers, and the dampness of the tears of happiness that flowed from them both, filled her heart to bursting.
They sat together watching the dawn and each other in equal amounts. They talked quietly of the events of that last momentous night and Harry told her about Dumbledore and Hermione cried for him, for the old man who had now truly left them for ever.
"Do you know what happened to everyone else?" Hermione asked.
"No, not really," Harry replied suddenly worried for all of his friends, "I did see Remus before I brought you here, but can't remember seeing any of the others. I'm sure they'll be fine," but he remembered the bodies lying on the bridge and he began to have his doubts.
The sun eventually crawled over the mountains that surrounded Hogwarts castle and as its first rays pierced the windows and lit the interior of the hospital wing Poppy Pomfrey emerged from her office and busied herself with her patients. She gave Hermione only a passing inspection and to the surprise of both Harry and the patient concerned allowed her get up and make herself presentable. It was as Harry was waiting for Hermione to emerge from the small bathroom to one side of the ward that the main doors opened and Professor McGonagall walked in. Harry watched the face of the old witch as she crossed the floor to where he sat but he could not read in it whether the news she undoubtedly carried was good or bad. Hermione wearing a borrowed robe returned to the ward and reached Harry at the same time as the Headmistress, unconsciously he had risen in respect of his old Professor, and now the two youngsters stood side by side waiting to hear what she had to say.
Professor McGonagall looked at the pair, their expectant faces turned to her.
"Sit down, the both of you," she said in a friendly tone, and waited as they seated themselves on Hermione's bed. "Well…" it was clear that she was having difficulty in speaking up. "….last night was not without its cost. The Brotherhood lost ten good witches and wizards, fortunately Arthur Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks will recover from their injuries, they are at St.Mungo's. Bill and Remus are fine and back to normal." She gave Harry and Hermione a wry smile. "Having spoken to them I doubt they will try Fred and George's latest elixir again, Bill especially found his actions of last night very disturbing, however valiant they were, for our side." Harry had a question burning in his throat but he was reluctant to stop the Headmistress now she was talking.
"Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Fyrsil Ollivander were both killed, as was Severus, and of course we lost Albus, but you know that." She continued, "The others you wouldn't know, even I never guessed they were in the Brotherhood, but they were all from good families," her eyes became a little distant as she thought those that had fallen, "I even taught some of them," she added quietly and fell silent as small tear appeared in the corner of her eye.
Harry couldn't deny his question any longer, there was one member of the team that she hadn't mentioned, and he had to know.
"What has happened to Ron?"
Hermione covered her mouth with her hand and stifled a cry of dismay, in all of this she had forgotten about one of her oldest friends. In her defence she hadn't really forgotten him it just never occurred to her that anything could have happened to the tall ginger haired lad, but no one had mentioned him at all, and her worry increased as McGonagall's face took on a sombre expression.
"No body seems to know Harry, we've looked for him but we can't find him?" Harry gave the old witch a questioning look. "He is not among the injured, and he is not among the dead, all of them were identifiable, all except the thing that Arthur's car killed, that sort of came to bits. Remus said he was sure he saw Ron hit just after Hermione but he couldn't be certain as he was too busy dealing with Bellatrix Lestrange. I am so sorry Harry, Hermione but we just don't know."
"Has anyone thought to ask Luna?" said Hermione the idea that the blond haired Despuamense coming to her in that instant.
McGonagall looked bemused, but Harry beamed at her.
"Hermione's right, if Ron is alive, Luna will know, I'm sure of it," he made it sound as hopeful as he could.
But their initial intention to seek out Luna Lovegood were thwarted the moment the Hospital Wing doors opened again to view a large muscular group of wizards all with wands drawn and Rufus Scrimgeour the Minister for Magic hidden in their midst.
"Harry Potter, you will present yourself before the Minister," called out the man standing in the centre of the front line. He had the look of someone puffed up with his own importance, and was making the most of it, but he visibly shook, as Harry slowly walked towards him, and it made the end of his wand wobble up and down.
"What is all this!" an enraged Professor McGonagall pushed herself past Harry to stand between him and the bunch of Aurors accompanying the Minister. "You have no right…" but she was not allowed to finish.
"We have come to determine the state of Harry James Potter, to decide if he represents a threat to the magical community," said the spokesman, in as confident voice as he could manage.
"What nonsense!" McGonagall exploded. "This boy, and to me he is no more than a boy, has just saved all your miserable lives, destroyed one of the most evil wizards in living memory, and you think he is a threat!"
At this point it was the Minister that spoke up, "It is precisely because he was able to do it that we are here." His tone was measured, implacable. "We need to know whose side he is on."
The Headmistress opened and closed her mouth unable to articulate her thoughts adequately.
The Minister gave the spokesman Auror a poke and he now unrolled a sheet of parchment, cleared his throat and announced. "Several members of the forces of the late wizard, 'who shall not be named', who are now in custody, have made the following statement. In that after killing said wizard 'who shall not be named', that Harry Potter turned to face them his eyes shooting golden flames and offered, to any that would take it, a place at his side, ruling the wizarding world."
There was a stunned silence, which if left to continue would have become uncomfortable, but it was broken by a silvery laugh, as Hermione suddenly realised the absurdity of the situation and could not help herself. Her laughter proved contagious as Poppy Pomfrey and those patients in the beds at the far end of the ward that were able joined in. Then Harry and finally Professor McGonagall joined in.
The Aurors and the Minister looked a little hurt at the reaction of the people in the ward, convinced as they were in the gravity of their mission. Then, as the laughter did not seem inclined to abate Scrimgeour pushed his way to the front and tried to take charge.
He confronted Harry. "You don't deny that you killed err, 'he who must not be named'.
"Voldemort and the Dark Lord? Yes they both had to die, I killed one and Mr Weasley's car ran the other one over." Harry said with a small smile at the Minister.
"Two of them? You killed two? Why wasn't I told of this?" he looked accusingly at the Aurors. The Minister was clearly way out of his depth with this. "But you had help you must have." Scrimgeour was desperately try to find some sense in Harry explanation that he could believe in.
"Of course," Harry replied now he understood what the Minister needed. "This for one," and he raised his hand high above his head the sword of Gryffindor appeared out of thin air and dropped neatly into it. The Minister gave a shriek as Harry brought the glittering blade down to point it at the floor. "And Fawkes the power I used was his, but I don't have it any more," Harry even manage to sound wistful at the loss. "He's over here."
Harry picked up the bowl he had placed the phoenix chick in some hours earlier, but it was empty. The Minister made a disbelieving noise.
"All true Minister," Poppy Pomfrey chipped in, "I saw him do it with my own eyes."
Scrimgeour grunted reluctantly accepting the word of the school nurse.
"But it was Professor Dumbledore who really did it," Harry continued smoothly. "And I don't know how so there is no point in asking. I thought he was as dead as the next wizard, but there he was gave me the sword and swish Voldemort was dead."
"Ahh!" cried the Minister in relief, "so that's the truth of it, Dumbledore, well I never, fancy that. Full of surprises that man."
"Yes he was," said Harry with real sadness now.
But the Minister was not listening he was off on some grand idea of his own mumbling and muttering to himself. Then he turned to his Aurors to shoo them out of the way. "We must find some way of honouring the old chap."
"Perhaps Dumbledore Day?" suggested the man with the now useless roll of parchment.
"Capital idea," the Minister was back to his normal happy self, and looked back to Harry once more. "Sorry about all this my lad, but we hade to check you understand. No hard feelings?"
Harry shook his head. "No feelings at all," he said in a voice that only Professor McGonagall and Hermione could hear.
The Minister and his protection disappeared down the corridor that led to the main staircase, and Hermione snuggled up to Harry and slipped her arm around his waist.
He gave her a wry smile, "Come on we've wasted enough time here, let's go and find Ron."
* * *
Ronald Bilius Weasley was very confused; he reasoned that this was probably a fairly common occurrence for him his as he was not unduly worried by it. What did give him cause for concern was, that other than his name, he could not remember anything about himself, who he was, what he did, and why he was lying in the dark, in a place that smelt fairly unpleasant and was decidedly damp. He in fact, was more than damp he was wet and uncomfortably cold, and he had a dull throbbing pain in his right side. He found that if he moved the pain became worse, so he practiced staying still, but although it made him feel better it was not helping with his situation, whatever his situation was. He was near water, of that he was sure, because apart from his saturated condition, he could here it, a quiet lapping noise intruded on his senses and vied for his attention with an insistent droning sound. He studied this other sound for a while, as he had nothing better to do, and decided after some serious consideration that it was a voice, speaking slowly so that the sounds tended to merge together. He felt quite pleased with himself when he finally deciphered the words "Malkanor Nott was the last person to visit this office." He had absolutely no idea what the words meant, or alluded to, and in fact now he knew what they were, the constant repetition was beginning to get on his nerves.
It was at this point he had a visitor, because it was dark he couldn't see them but the rather unpleasant odour that filled the place in which he was confined increased to an almost unbearable level. He tried to talk to his unseen companion but all he received in reply was a vile screeching noise that hurt his ears and in the end he was very glad that after a short time he, she or it went away again. He lay still again trying to gather his scrambled thoughts when it occurred to him that his feet which had almost reached the point of being dry were in fact becoming wet again. Moving his legs he could hear the sloshing of water and as the wetness began to encroach on the lower half of his legs it dawned on Ron that the water level was rising and he was sure that this was not a good thing and that he ought to do something about it.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, he hauled himself into a sitting position, and nearly cracked his skull open on the roof of, what he now knew was, a rather small prison. After a bit of scrabbling around Ron knew he was in serious trouble, the space that held him was only as wide as the length of his body, and the roof came down to meet the floor only a few feet behind him. It was like being in a small cave at the seaside but he couldn't find any way out, and the tide was coming in.
* * *
"He's alive Harry. He's wet and smelly, but he is alive," said Luna.
Harry and Hermione had gone looking for Ron's girlfriend and had bumped into her not far from the hospital wing.
"I knew you were looking for me, so I… well here I am," the girl had said, and it had almost made sense. Then in answer to their question she had provided the reply "He's alive Harry. He's wet and smelly, but he is alive,"
"Well at least that's something," said Harry with considerable relief. "Any idea where?"
"No Harry, nothing specific."
"He must have gone into the river," said Hermione, "I saw it a happen to one of Voldemort's side. Two spells at once lifted him right over the wall, really messed him up, quite impressive…Oh sorry Luna," she apologised at the expression on the younger girls face. "I'm sure Ron wasn't…"
"It's ok I know he wasn't badly hurt, but the link with him is very tenuous, I am only getting fleeting impressions, and now I can feel fear," she said looking imploringly at Harry. "You can reach him you know," Harry frowned at her, "He won't ever leave you Harry, and you will have to admit it at some time."
Hermione was shifting her gaze back and forth between Harry and Luna there was something here she didn't understand.
"What is Luna talking about Harry," she demanded, the concern evident in her tone. "Who won't leave you, does she mean Ron?"
Harry sat himself down on the small window seat near where they had been talking. He shrugged his shoulders and sighed, "No not Ron, I think this is what she means," he said, and as Hermione stared at him his eyes began to glow again, and she could feel the air around him alive with the magic he possessed. There was a brilliant flash of flame and Fawkes burst into existence, he flapped his wings, hovering in the air above the trio, and then swooped down and landed on Harry's leg. Harry winced as the phoenix's claws dug into him then murmured his thanks to the bird as he realised how hard he was gripping his new master and relaxed his hold.
"But Harry you told the Minister that the magic of the phoenix had left you," said Hermione looking in awe at Fawkes.
"It has, well most of it," he replied running his hand over the birds back, "however Fawkes himself would appear to be another matter. I haven't really had the chance to really think about what happened last night, but it would seem that Fawkes and I are linked in some way now, perhaps in the way he was with Dumbledore, and I wouldn't be surprised if there were others before him, cos' who knows how old Fawkes really is."
"Fawkes might," said Hermione with a smile and she sat down next to Harry and put an arm around his shoulder.
"I suppose you're right, perhaps we'll ask him one day."
"Err… Harry, Ron?" reminded Luna.
Harry looked up. "Sorry Luna, …bit distracted, …right." He turned to the phoenix as if to say something then looked back at Luna. "Are you sure he can find him?"
Luna's expression was as close to one of impatience as she could manage. "Well if you ask him we might find out," said the mild mannered girl evenly.
"Right, sorry," Then he spoke to the Phoenix. "Can you find Ron and get him back to us?"
Fawkes tipped his head to one side as if considering the request the spread his wings and took to the air. There was a bright flash and the bird vanished, there was nothing Harry, Hermione and Luna could do now but wait.
* * *
Ron racked his brains to try and work out what chain of circumstances had brought him to this rather unpleasant situation, but everything was bound up in a cotton-woolly sort of mess. It didn't help that it was pitch black, the only thing his senses were telling him, apart from the smell, was that he was rapidly running out of space, and soon there would be water everywhere. He just wished there was some light, and then as if by magic there was so much light that his dark adapted eyes were blinded.
"Oww my eyes!" he cried, and hurriedly shut them, but he didn't want to miss out on whatever was blinding him, so he cautiously opened them again. The brilliance had faded somewhat, but all Ron could see were spots of coloured light that flashed and whirled in front of his eyes. Then slowly they too faded, and Ron could see the slightly glowing shape of a large bird. It warbled a greeting, which for some unaccountable reason made Ron feel much better and he smiled.
"I know you, don't I?" he said to the bird, who said nothing in return. "Give me a minute and I'll work it out, but in the meantime I don't suppose you know how to get out of here?" The bird looked sideways at him and extended a wing. "Oh!" said Ron in surprise and then hoping that it the right thing to do reached out and gripped the end of proffered feathers. He suddenly felt as if he weighed nothing at all and he nearly let go but fortunately he didn't.
There was a flash of flame, and Ron felt warm all over, there was a second of darkness again, and then he was kneeling on hard cold stone. He let go of the bird and was immediately smothered by someone that was saying his name again and again, and in between each word was planting kiss after kiss on his lips. Although unexpected, Ron decided the sensation was very pleasant, the girl, he thought it was a girl, brought warmth to him that so far only the flame of the phoenix had done, and she smelled wonderful, much nicer than he did.
That's what it was, a phoenix he had remembered, now how did he know that? But he found that with the girl continuing to kiss him he was having difficulty in concentrating. So as gently as he could he disentangled himself, and stood up, helping her to her feet as he did so. The kissing girl was not alone, there were two others standing behind her, a dark haired boy, and a very pretty girl, they were both smiling and Ron thought he should know who they were. The kissing girl was in his arms once again, and Ron began to hope that this was a normal position for her, and decided it was only fair to find out. So he looked down at her and said, "Hi my name is Ron, err…who are you?"
There was a second or two of silence as Harry stared at Hermione, and then they both stared at Luna whose eyes had never left Ron's face. She reached up, placed her hands on either side of his head, and pulled him down into a passionate kiss which lasted long enough to make even Harry and Hermione slightly uncomfortable.
Ron surfaced, "Wow," was all he said, and then he passed out…….
In a small cave under the banks of the Thames, a strange looking head broke the surface of the water and saw that her latest acquisition was no longer there. In a way she was sad because he had looked nice, she knew so few surface dwellers, well none at all really, it had seemed such a wonderful opportunity to get to know one better. He had landed almost in her arms and she had brought him to her home, but just as mysteriously as he appeared in her life, he had gone again. All that remained on her little beach was a single feather it sparkled with golden light, it was beautiful, and when she looked at it, it made her feel happy.
……Two hours later Ron opened his eyes again, and looked around the familiar surroundings of the hospital ward. He could see Luna, Harry and Hermione, standing near the end of his bed, talking quietly. Madam Pomfrey was making a fuss over the occupant of the bed next to him, but it was the erstwhile nurse who first spotted that Ron had rejoined the land of the living.
"Ahh Mr Weasley awake I see."
"Umm… yes, I suppose I am," at his words the conversation at the end of the bed stopped and three pairs of eyes were focused on his face. "Err… Hi," he managed, then,
"I don't suppose you know what happened to me?"
There was delight in the expressions that were returned to him, and an immediate reaction from Luna who rushed to him, and enfolded him in a huge hug.
"You know who we are?" she said, kissing him soundly.
"'Course I do."
"But you don't remember anything else?"
"Well… its all a bit of a muddle, bit like a dream. I remember seeing Hermione hit," his face paled and he looked up, "you ok?"
Hermione smiled, "Thanks to you, and that old dragon scale," she giggled at her next words, "never better."
Ron smiled back, then his face creased in thought, "I remember a pain in my side then flying through the air, then not much else but a cold, dark, wetness, and a rather unpleasant smell."
"Fish," said Luna, "You stank of fish when Fawkes brought you back."
"Fawkes!" cried Ron, "Yes I remember him too. I owe him one."
"Yes perhaps you do, but it was Harry who sent him," Luna told him.
Then for the first time since surfacing, Ron looked into the face of his best friend. Harry was standing at the foot of the bed, initially he looked the same good old Harry, but there was something else. Something in his face that had never been there before, a depth of understanding, of wisdom, as if Harry had suddenly accumulated the knowledge of ages. Harry smiled, but it was the smile of a very tired man that Ron could see.
"What happened Harry?"
"We won Ron," Harry replied, "Voldemort is gone, and so is Dumbledore, but it is over, its time for everyone to live again." Harry sighed, for the first time he really believed it; he had done all he could for his friends, now it was up to them. Hermione sidled up to him and put a supportive arm around his waist. A curl of flame seemed to erupt from Harry's shoulder, and Fawkes appeared his talons gripping the dragon hide as if he would never let go.
Ron and Luna stared at the three of them as Harry turned and gave Hermione a kiss, and Fawkes gave an approving warble.
"See you Ron," said Harry smiling down at his old friend, then his eyes blazed with golden fire and the trio vanished.
* * *