First, my apologies for putting you all through another cliff. Please accept the quick posting of this chapter as my way of begging forgiveness (Yes, I'm talking to you Anonymous D - am I forgiven now? All 8000%?)
And so on we go...
Chapter 16 - …and the Sword
Rufus Scrimgeour glanced at his watch; almost time. He had used the past few minutes to issue urgent instructions to those members of his force who had managed to obtain cover within the castle grounds. He had counted nearly forty and he prayed that this would be enough. It had not been easy to relay his instructions without alerting the enemy to his plan but he had managed it. Whispering furiously to those concealed behind the statues and columns either side of him, he had ordered that they pass the word to the group next to them to be ready for a direct assault on the enemy positions. The signal to attack would be a stunner fired by either himself or James. After that, his men were to shoot to kill. He only hoped that the message did not become garbled as it was passed - quite literally in this instance - from pillar to post. He recalled without amusement the children's game 'Chinese Whispers' and hoped for once that his people had managed to get the message correct.
'Sukey!' he called, and within a moment, the little elf appeared before him. 'Sukey,' he began, 'are Dobby and Kreacher ready?'
Sukey nodded. 'They are ready, master; they await your signal to attack.'
'Very good, Sukey. Can you please tell them to attack when they see a jet of red light being fired at the enemy? As soon as I fire the first shot, we will be moving in.'
Sukey nodded her understanding.
'And one final order, Sukey. Once you have relayed my instructions to Dobby and Kreacher, you are to return home until I summon you. Do you understand?' Rufus knew that he may not survive the next few moments, but he wanted to be certain that his trusted elf did. He could see that Sukey was not happy with the instructions though. 'That is an order, Sukey. I will not be disobeyed in this.'
He saw tears well up in the eyes of the little elf but she nodded her understanding before disappearing. Rufus turned to James, expecting to see amusement; instead he saw only sadness in his friend's eyes.
'She's not cut out for this sort of thing,' Rufus explained, gruffly.
'I know,' replied James. He smiled suddenly. 'Are any of us?' He looked towards the enemy positions. 'Do you think those two elves will be enough?'
'I don't know,' replied Rufus. 'I can only hope that they are.'
James nodded. They were taking a huge gamble, but what choice did they have? 'Ready, Rufus?' he asked quietly.
'Ready,' Rufus replied. He glanced at his watch again. 'The Polyjuice Potion will be wearing off soon. I'm glad,' he added distractedly. 'If I am to die today, then I would rather do so in my own form. Good luck, old friend,' he added as he shook James' hand before gingerly getting to his feet.
He peered cautiously round the side of the statue, his wand held firmly. Taking careful aim at a point where a large number of enemy spells had originated from, he took a moment to compose himself.
'STUPEFY!' he cried and a steak of red light burst forth and crashed into the low wall where Voldemort's forces lay hidden. Within an instant a barrage of green and red spells were sent streaking towards the enemy, who returned fire in kind. The counter fire was terrific and Rufus knew that there was no way that anyone could survive for long under such an onslaught. Despite this, he stood upright.
'CHARGE!' he yelled, waving his wand above his head like a sword as he raced towards the enemy, his troops following close behind.
He became aware of several things happening at once. Rufus had been in combat before and he soon experienced the familiar - though bizarre - sensation of time seeming to slow down as he raced towards his foes. He felt, rather than saw, a number of spells flash by him and realised that some of them were scoring hits on those who charged behind him. He was soon reminded, however, that he was not as agile as he once was and that the injury sustained to his leg all those years ago was now proving to be a hindrance. A number of his force overtook him in the race to the wall, some falling before being able to fire a shot. As he neared the barrier he suddenly saw a mass of House Elves Apparate into position directly behind his enemies before beginning to unleash the powerful and mystical magic that was unique to that strange little species. It was not just Dobby and Kreacher who had answered the call; it seemed to Rufus that practically every elf in Hogwarts had rallied to the cause. Black robes could now be seen as first one and then more of the Death Eaters were blasted into the air by the elves and Rufus screamed as he fired a jet of green light towards a figure that had risen in an attempt to escape the attack that had materialised behind him.
There was no time for mercy; he vaulted the low wall, vaguely surprised at his own agility and soon he and the surviving group of Aurors following him found themselves in the midst of a maelstrom. Curses flew in all directions and the fighting had now become almost hand to hand. Rufus ducked as a Death Eater fired a jet of green light at him and then fired off a lethal curse of his own that ran true and struck his assailant in the chest. Turning to seek out the next threat, he suddenly felt himself being grabbed by the legs as a Death Eater on the ground clawed at his feet. Rufus fell and was soon involved in a struggle to the death as he and his attacker clawed at one another like primitive beasts. His assailant was too strong for him though; younger and fitter, the young Death Eater managed to force Rufus' wand away from him and raised his own, pointing it directly at him. Rufus waited for the final curse but it never arrived as his attacker was suddenly blasted backwards, struck by a curse from James. His friend did not even acknowledge him as he sought out his next target, his brow knitted in concentration.
Getting to his feet, Rufus tried to take in the situation. It had become a pitched battle with pairs of protagonists fighting tooth and nail for survival. He cast curse after curse against his enemies, seeking out those who were gaining the upper hand and intervening where necessary, just as James had intervened for him. The elves were doing likewise and he noted with sadness at least half a dozen still forms that were smaller than the rest of the bodies that lay on the ground, never to rise.
It was clear that they were winning though. Cries of quarter could be heard from some of the Death Eaters who still lived but his troops were in no mood to grant such mercy. Too many of their own had died today, and the taunts of Voldemort's forces now came back to haunt them as one by one they were dispatched with as little compunction as one might swat a fly. Before long, the firing stopped altogether.
Rufus breathed deeply, sucking in a great lungful of air. He glanced at his watch; incredibly, the whole battle, from the moment he had fired his first curse, had taken less than three minutes. He couldn't believe it; it felt like hours had passed. Looking around he saw bodies strewn everywhere, friend and enemy alike. Some of the dead seemed to look up in astonishment, their faces forever to display the shock and surprise experienced at the moment of death. Others seemed to be frozen in a rictus of accusation; the charge leveled at Rufus himself. He had led them to this; to sudden brutal death, and Rufus knew that these frozen faces would haunt him until his own time came.
He jumped suddenly as he felt a hand on his shoulder.
'Are you alright, Rufus?' asked James.
Rufus turned to his friend, the relief washing over him. He nodded. 'I'm fine; just not as young as I used to be.'
'Good,' said James. He followed Rufus' gaze to the mass of corpses that lay all around. They had lost about half of their numbers in the attack. 'We still have work to do, Rufus. We do not have time to mourn at the moment. Only if we win will we be able to grieve. We are looking to you now, old friend.'
Rufus nodded, knowing that James was correct. He did not have time for pity at the moment. He looked amongst the elves and was relieved to see that both Dobby and Kreacher had survived. He called them over.
'Thank you, both,' he began. 'Words cannot express my gratitude for what you have done today, but I must ask you to do one thing more. Can you open the doors to the school?'
'I can, sir,' replied Dobby, and for once the little elf sounded older than his years.
'Thank you, Dobby. Give me five minutes to get things organised here and then open them please.' He turned to James. 'Get every available wand you can find. That includes those that managed to escape from the castle grounds earlier. Assemble the force. We have one more battle to fight.'
James nodded soberly before dashing off to carry out Rufus' orders. Rufus turned to look at the castle.
Soon, Harry. Hold on a bit longer.
***********
Severus Snape watched in horror as the Dark Lord struggled to regain his composure. He glanced at Potter and saw to his despair that he looked utterly defeated, slumped on the floor, his head low. Snape could not blame him; indeed, it was taking all of his own self control not to do likewise.
Dumbledore had been wrong!
He raged at the old man; raged at the complacency and the foolish trust that had led them here. Dumbledore had been certain that the snake was the key; the final obstacle to the Dark Lord's death. Now he realised it had all been for nothing. He had no idea what the final Horcrux could be and he was now aware that there was a very good chance that he would be dead before this day was done.
He was lucky he wasn't dead already. When Potter had foolishly revealed details of the ambush that awaited the Dark Lord's forces in the Ministry, Snape had felt like torturing the idiot boy himself. Such an ambush would lead the Dark Lord to the obvious conclusion; there was a traitor within his midst. He had gripped his wand as the questioning began and knew that it was only a matter of time before Potter revealed him as the source. When that happened, Snape knew that he had to be ready to act; he would a least try to strike a blow against the Dark Lord before he died.
And then Draco had acted. He hadn't been sure if the boy would do it, but Draco evidently had more backbone than he had been credited with. That the snake had not been a Horcrux was a calamity to be sure, but Draco's action might yet save his own life, Snape realised.
If Potter had the wit to grasp the situation.
He watched as the Dark Lord sat down once again on the headmaster's chair. He was revelling in this, he thought grimly. He had lost his faithful pet, but Snape knew that the Dark Lord would consider that a small price to pay for the victory he had gained today.
There was a decision to make now, he realised. He had put his trust in Albus and as a result of that trust, had reluctantly accepted that Potter was the key. And now Potter was defeated; his death was but moments away.
So what do you do now, Severus? he asked himself.
*************
'Harry, Harry,' said Lord Voldemort, the mirth still evident in his voice. 'Do not berate yourself, Harry. It was a noble effort. It never occurred to me that you could have suborned young Draco to your cause. He will pay for putting his trust in you, Harry; but I must commend you on your effort, futile though it was.'
Harry looked up at his enemy at these words. He battled with the despair that threatened to crush him. At that moment, he felt like giving up; just rolling over and giving up. He couldn't take any more disappointments; any more setbacks or any more pain. He hung his head, unwilling to reply to the taunts of Lord Voldemort, but felt suddenly a soft touch on his shoulder. A touch of such tenderness and reassurance that he felt compelled to look up for the source.
Hermione.
Of course it was Hermione. She stood regarding him with such love and compassion that he could not help but smile. She did not speak - indeed, she did not need to speak - as the message was plain for him to see in her eyes.
She still believed in him.
Such faith could move mountains, he realised. Picking himself up, Harry stood to his full height and regarded his enemy. Straight of back and standing proud; his eyes now blazed as he drew on the strength of Hermione's love. Whatever happened now, he would die like a man; die like his father had died; fighting to the end. He tried to assess the situation and noticed that his wand still lay on the floor about five feet away. Lord Voldemort followed his gaze.
'I know what you are thinking; Harry, but you will never reach it. I will cut you down before you even get close. You and the mudblood,' he added. He turned to the Death Eater nearest to him. 'Wormtail? Fetch Mr. Potter's wand for me. And while you are at it, be so good as to retrieve that rather magnificent sword he has.' He turned back to Harry. 'We can't have you getting ideas now, can we, Harry?'
Harry tensed as the former Marauder approached and retrieved the wand from the floor. Was this his chance? he wondered.
'Don't even consider it, Harry. I will kill your friends if you make any move at all. Get the sword, Wormtail and bring it to me. Do not fear; Harry will not try anything.'
Wormtail did as bidden. He tentatively approached Harry and unclipped the scabbard, never once looking Harry in the eye as he did so. Harry stood mute; impotent to act on the rage and hatred he felt as the man responsible for his parent's deaths took away his last chance of killing Lord Voldemort. He closed his eyes as Wormtail handed the sword hilt first to his master.
Lord Voldemort gently - almost reverentially - removed the sword from its scabbard and examined the weapon for what seemed like an eternity. He turned the silver blade over in his hands as he gazed upon the ruby encrusted hilt. 'Magnificent,' he breathed. 'Quite magnificent.'
He handed the blade back to Wormtail, who bowed low to his master before taking up position behind the headmaster's chair; almost as if he was a knight of old guarding the king. He too seemed in awe of the sword.
Lord Voldemort turned back to face Harry. 'Thank you, Harry, for this little gift. It shall come in very useful.' He settled back in his chair. 'Now, where were we? Of course; we were discussing Mr. Malfoy, were we not? It now appears that my torturing you was a waste of effort. Young Draco has revealed his true loyalties to me. Did you actually think that I would not discover the traitor in my midst? I must confess that the boy has surprised me. I didn't think he had it in him.' Voldemort mused. 'That is now twice today I have been surprised; it is becoming something of a habit.'
Harry thought quickly. He could get Snape off the hook here, he realised. 'He surprised me too,' he finally replied. 'For all that he provided us with valuable information, I did not think that he had it in him to do what he did today. I wish him well.'
Voldemort laughed. 'Your sentiments are wasted, Harry. There is no escape from me; Draco will soon discover this. As you have already discovered.' He changed tack. 'Now tell me, Harry; why did you think that Nagini was a Horcrux?'
Harry took a moment to reply. 'It was Dumbledore,' he finally said. 'He was convinced that your close connection to the snake was more than just that of a master and pet. He believed that you had intended to make your final Horcrux with my death sixteen years ago. When that failed, Dumbledore thought that you would have used the first available option. He thought Nagini would be that option.'
Voldemort laughed humourlessly. 'He was half right, Harry. I did indeed intend to mark your death by creating my final Horcrux, but fate decided otherwise.' Lord Voldemort seemed bemused by the whole affair. 'Did you honestly think I would entrust a fragment of my soul to a snake? Much as Nagini was dear to me Harry, she was but an inferior creature. How could you have been so foolish?'
Harry shrugged. 'We didn't have anything else to go on. You always were close to that snake. We were told - that is Draco told us - that you were keeping her close. We even found out that you had been keeping her particularly close recently. That was after our little encounter in the graveyard. We surmised that you were keeping her close because you knew we were after your Horcruxes. Draco told us that either you or Wormtail was with her at all times…' Harry's voice tailed off as he said this.
'You were remarkably well informed, Harry. Draco did indeed serve you well.' He paused as he regarded the boy in front of him. A boy, he suddenly realised, who did not seem to be paying any attention to him at the moment. 'Are you listening to me, Harry?' asked Lord Voldemort with a hint of annoyance in his voice.
But Harry was not listening to the Dark Lord. Instead, he was deep in thought, his eyes locked in concentration as he tried to achieve a firmer grasp of a notion that had flitted across his mind a moment ago.
It wasn't just Nagini who had been kept close to Voldemort, was it? If Wormtail was always close to the snake and the snake was always close to Voldemort...
He thought back to his observations when he had viewed the Marauder's map in the Room of Requirement. He had assumed that Nagini was with her master because Wormtail had accompanied the Dark Lord everywhere. He had concluded this because Snape had told him that Wormtail had been tasked with guarding the snake. He now realised a different truth with growing certainty.
It was not Wormtail who had been ordered to guard Nagini; it had been the other way round. Voldemort was connected to the snake, she was the perfect guard, for if Wormtail was in danger or threatened to betray his master, the snake could report this immediately.
He looked up beyond Lord Voldemort and regarded the pathetic little creature standing behind the headmaster's chair. Why would Voldemort want Pettigrew guarded? Harry's eyes took in the man who had caused his parents deaths; took in his crumpled clothes, his thinning hair; his look of premature ageing and his general air of a man carrying too many burdens.
He took in the silver hand at the end of Pettigrew's right arm. The silver hand that Voldemort had conjured from thin air on that fateful night, over two years ago.
From thin air. Right after the ritual and right after Voldemort had ordered the murder of Cedric.
And then he knew.
The whole process had taken only seconds, but Harry felt a renewed surge of hope as he realised that he was right. He had to be right.
'It's Wormtail, isn't it?' he finally asked, his voice low.
He stared directly at Lord Voldemort as he asked this. The Dark Lord's eyes went wide for a moment; his slit like nostrils flared; it was clear that this was a day for surprises and Harry knew for certain by the reaction that he was right.
Lord Voldemort took a long moment to reply. Harry noticed that Pettigrew had also reacted to his unexpected question. The former Marauder's eyes had narrowed and his face took on the look of a hunted animal. All attention in the hall was now on the man sitting in the headmaster's chair; the man who only a moment before had been in complete control of events. Finally, Voldemort spoke.
'Well, well,' he began. 'You have done it again, Harry. You have managed to surprise Lord Voldemort.' He glanced briefly behind to regard Pettigrew. 'I must congratulate you, Harry; I did not expect you to work it out. Yes; it is Wormtail. And now you must die, for I cannot allow you to live any longer with this knowledge. Your continued existence depended on your ignorance, Harry Potter.' The Dark Lord stood as he said this and raised his wand. Harry prepared himself for death but took consolation from the fact that Snape remained undetected and now possessed the knowledge to finally destroy Voldemort.
'Master?' asked Pettigrew suddenly, his voice hoarse. 'Is this true? That you have placed a portion of your soul within me?'
Voldemort turned to his servant. 'Not quite, Wormtail. You do not hold the Horcrux; it is the hand that contains it. When you die, it shall remain safe until I find a more suitable location for it.' It occurred to Lord Voldemort that this would probably have to be done soon. He regarded his servant and noticed how he held his silver hand before him and stared at it with wide eyes. 'I know that it is a great honour for you, Wormtail, to be trusted with such a valuable task. Your master did not grant this lightly.'
Voldemort seemed satisfied and turned back to face Harry. 'Now, Harry; where were we?'
But Harry wasn't watching Lord Voldemort. Instead he watched Pettigrew as the man struggled to come to terms with what had been revealed. Pettigrew stared at the silver hand and Harry realised that it was not an expression of wonder that was visible on the man's face.
It was horror.
Harry watched as the expression changed once again, this time to resolution. Harry knew with fascination what the man was going to do before he did it. He had seen this before on a dark night in a graveyard.
Having clearly made a decision, Pettigrew swiftly took the sword he had been holding in his left hand and brought it down with a cruel slash across his right wrist. The silver hand shot into the air for a moment before becoming engulfed in a spray of gore that burst forth from the bloodied stump where it had been attached. It clattered to the floor, a black mist slowly beginning to emerge. There was no cry of pain from the man who had done this; only a look of grim determination as Peter Pettigrew finally came to terms with what he had become and thrust the Sword of Godric Gryffindor into the silver hand and destroyed it utterly. The scream that was let out from the Horcrux was matched only by the scream of rage that burst forth from Lord Voldemort when he realised what had happened. Pettigrew had time for one last look at Harry before he died and his eyes sent a message of apology for everything he had done to bring them all to this. There was time for no more as he was suddenly blasted by a jet of green light from the wand of Lord Voldemort. The sword flew from his hand in an arc and stuck fast into the floor next to the Slytherin table.
Lord Voldemort looked down upon the corpse of Peter Pettigrew in disbelief. His eyes shifted to the left and he saw the Sword of Gryffindor vibrate from side to side, its point embedded in the floor. It took a moment for what had happened to fully sink in but then the Dark Lord was hit by a crushing realisation.
He was mortal now.
Fighting the feeling of fear and panic that now threatened to overwhelm him he turned to face the boy who had caused this. He was aware that everyone in the entire hall was standing in a state of stunned disbelief as they stared at him. Terror gripped Lord Voldemort; a terror that he had experienced but once before, the night Harry Potter had survived his killing curse. He looked at the teenagers before him but did not see schoolchildren; instead, he saw nothing but threats. Mortal threats to his very existence.
'KILL THEM!' he screamed. 'KILL THEM ALL!' he repeated before firing a curse at directly at Harry.
Harry had been expecting it. He shoved Hermione to the floor with all of his might and then dived under the Gryffindor table for cover, the curse from Voldemort missing his head by inches. He looked round appalled as he saw the slaughter commence as Voldemort's followers began to carry out his orders. Harry watched in horror as the first people died. Bella in particular wasted no time; she headed straight across the hall and cut down the four Professor's who had stood in impotent rage as they had watched the proceedings. Harry cried out in despair as he saw Minerva fall to the first curse to come from Lestrange's wand.
He never had time for anything else though. Dodging furiously, he crawled under the table towards the doors as Voldemort drew nearer. He glanced across to see that Hermione and Ron had both taken similar refuge; they too were trying to escape unnoticed on their hands and knees underneath the Slytherin table. He caught sight of Dean Thomas being blasted by a stray curse as he tried to flee and was soon confronted by the sightless eyes of his friend and classmate as his prone form crashed to the ground just yards away. He heard the footsteps of Lord Voldemort draw ever closer; each step marking the seconds as they ticked towards Harry's moment of doom.
We have no chance, thought Harry desperately. We are all going to die.
And then the miracle happened.
***********
Severus Snape watched aghast as the curse started to fly. He stood rooted to the spot; frozen with indecision as the world fell apart all around him. He was still coming to terms with what Pettigrew had done - indeed he still could not believe that Potter had guessed the truth - and the difficulty he had in processing what had occurred was hindering his thought process.
He saw Bella dispatch the four teachers in the corner with casual aplomb; people who only a few short months ago had been his respected colleagues and friends. Turning to Potter, he watched with increasing horror as the Dark Lord tried to get a clear shot at the boy as he scrambled for life under the table. He saw Dean Thomas fall to a stray curse and observed almost dispassionately as first Lavender Brown and then Terry Boot were slain as they tried to accost the young Death Eater who held the sack with the student's wands. Turning his head he saw that Neville Longbottom was now preparing himself to have a try at succeeding where his classmates had failed.
In that moment, Severus Snape felt the welling of strong emotion within him. For years he had suppressed his feelings, knowing that to allow them release would mean his death at the hands of the Dark Lord. Now, like a volcano erupting, his emotion burst forth at the slaughter in front of him.
What Severus Snape felt at that moment was hate. Pure, unadulterated hate for Lord Voldemort and everything he stood for. He saw Longbottom on the floor, preparing to die.
He raised his wand and pointed it straight at the Death Eater who had so callously slain the two students and was preparing to destroy a third.
'Avada Kedavra!' Snape shouted. The young man was blasted backwards, the sack flying through the air to scatter its contents across the floor. He turned to Lord Voldemort as he moved in on Potter for the kill and took careful aim. He did not see the look of astonishment on the face of Neville Longbottom.
Just as he was about to fire at the Dark Lord, the great doors at the end of the hall burst open for the second time that day with a crash loud enough to awaken the dead. Snape looked up and for the first time in years felt the hope flower within him as he saw Rufus Scrimgeour burst into the room at the head of a full squad of Aurors and at least a score of House Elves. All of them immediately began to spread out and begin to fire on the Death Eaters.
Some sixth sense made Snape turn at that point, and he instinctively ducked as a curse flew past his head. He looked up to the source; Bella.
'You!' she hissed. 'You are the traitor!' she added firing another curse straight at him.
Snape watched the green streak fly towards him, knowing now that it was all over.
***********
Lord Voldemort looked up aghast as the great doors crashed open and in poured a multitude of his enemies. He let out a cry of rage and fired curse after curse as he backed his way towards the headmaster's chair. How had they got in? he thought in anguish. He turned to see which of his followers were ready to face this new threat and was astonished to see Severus and Bella squaring up to each other. He watched disbelievingly as a green streak left Bella's wand and headed straight for Severus and was further amazed when he saw the dark form of a Hogwarts student fly through the air and knock Severus out of the path of the curse. He recognised the boy; Longbottom, was it not? Bella moved in for the kill but Lord Voldemort knew she was too late. Before he had even landed on the ground, Severus Snape fired the curse that killed Bellatrix Lestrange.
This was too much for Lord Voldemort. Severus Snape a traitor? This could not be possible. He was struggling to keep his wits about him; too much had happened today to shock him. He noticed now that his Death Eaters were losing this battle. That they were outnumbered by Ministry Aurors and that it was now the turn of his own people to die. There were only a handful of them left now. He realised that there was now only one thing left that he had to do before escaping.
Potter.
He turned to the boy; his nemesis; his own personal devil and watched as he crawled out from underneath the table. He noticed that Potter was unarmed; that he too was struggling to take in what was happening. At that point their eyes met, and Lord Voldemort was pleased. Was pleased because Potter would see his death approach and know who had caused it. He levelled his wand at the boy and for what seemed like an eternity, they regarded each other as if they were entirely alone in the world. Then Potter finally looked away and Lord Voldemort acted.
'Avada Kedavra!'
***********
Hermione had not hesitated when Harry had shoved her out the way; indeed, she had kept her wits about her despite everything that had happened and had grabbed Ron before diving with him under the Slytherin table. It was not much protection, but it was better than nothing. She had been vaguely aware of the carnage around her as she led the two of them towards the great doors; she thought she saw Lavender and Terry die and felt sure that Neville was in deep trouble too. Her heart had almost broken when she saw her mentor and friend die. Minerva had done so much for her over the years and Bella had cut her down like a dog.
She was further appalled when she saw Dean though; she watched horrified as he was blasted into the air, his corpse crashing to the ground like a rag doll. It was then that she saw Harry as he scrambled along the floor under the Gryffindor table and her heart nearly left her. Harry; who was her love and her life.
And who would be next to die, she realised despairingly. There was no escape for him; Lord Voldemort had him trapped.
It was right then that she thought her heart would burst within her breast as she turned to the sound of the great doors crashing open. Her eyes widened as she saw a full squad of Aurors fly into the melee, Rufus and James at their head. How they had got in she did not know, but then she noticed the accompanying House Elves and it dawned on her how they had done it. With a renewed sense of hope she turned to Ron.
'C'mon,' she began. 'This isn't over yet; we still have a chance.' Grabbing him by the collar, she reversed her course and began crawling back towards the teacher's table. To where the corpse of Peter Pettigrew lay with Harry's wand lying next to him. She had gotten as far as the end of the Slytherin table when she looked up in horror to see Lord Voldemort not fifteen feet away. She followed his gaze and saw - to her utter amazement - Neville dive to save Snape from the path of a curse and then Snape fire the spell to kill Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione felt a great degree of satisfaction at this death; it might not bring back Minerva, but at least the bitch could no longer hurt anyone else.
She saw Lord Voldemort turn and it was with a sense of desperation that she realised what his intentions were.
Harry.
Glancing back, she saw the man she loved more than life itself struggle to his feet and lock gazes with Lord Voldemort. She knew what was coming next. She turned to where his wand lay; it was still too far away.
Oh God, I'll never get it in time.
And then she saw the chance.
***********
Harry scrambled to his feet and tried to get his bearings; too much was going on. He ducked as a curse flew past his ear and he quickly scanned the room for the source. Turning behind him, he saw with satisfaction that the Aurors were spreading out and had begun the process of weeding out the Death Eaters, one by one.
He had seen Bella fall. Had seen her attack Snape; had seen - incredibly - Neville save the life of a man who had tormented him for six years. And had then watched Snape fire the curse that took the life of the woman who had killed both Sirius and Minerva.
He turned back, seeking Hermione and was almost cried out in relief when he saw her and Ron scrambling underneath the Slytherin table. Still alive.
It was then that he turned to face Lord Voldemort.
They locked eyes for a moment; a moment that seemed to stretch into infinity as they both contemplated everything that had brought them to this. Harry knew what was coming. Voldemort had lost today; had lost the battle; had lost his followers and had lost his Horcrux.
But still he lived. And Harry knew that only if Riddle killed him now could the Dark Lord hope to achieve anything from this day. Harry watched dispassionately as Lord Voldemort raised his wand.
He turned for one last look at Hermione. One last glimpse of the woman he loved before he died. It was then that Harry felt a glimmer of hope.
He watched as Hermione grabbed the hilt of Godric Gryffindor's sword. Watched as she pulled it from the floor and threw it with all her might towards him. It arced high before clattering to the ground and skidding to a stop, just yards from him. Harry did not waste any time. Diving onto the floor, he closed the gap and thrust out his hand just as he heard the fateful words.
'Avada Kedavra!'
In one swift, fluid motion Harry grasped the hilt of the sword, rolled onto his feet and turned to face his enemy, the Sword held before him. He could not see Voldemort; at that moment all Harry Potter could see was a flash of blinding green light that streaked towards him. He didn't have time to react and felt himself being blown backwards by the force of the impact. He crashed onto the Gryffindor table, almost splitting it in half.
Harry would never know - and would always wonder - if it was just luck that had guided his hand or whether for that one moment, the spirit of Godric Gryffindor had been present in the Sword and had taken control of events. He would wonder whether the Prophecy had been true and that it was only he that could have made the sword do what it did at that moment. But that was to come; all that he was immediately aware of was that he was still alive. Still alive because the curse had struck the ruby encrusted, silver hilt of the sword and had rebounded straight back towards Lord Voldemort.
Who died. Finally, totally and utterly, died. Died by his own hand; struck by a curse of his own making.
The hall held its breath for one long, tortuous moment before the mortal form of Tom Riddle toppled over and crashed to the floor and was still.
Then all hell broke loose.
Harry leaned his head back on the table and closed his eyes. It was all over. It was finally all over. He had just a moment to enjoy the moment himself when he was suddenly engulfed by a brown bushy mass that clasped him so tight he found it difficult to breath.
Hermione.
He didn't open his eyes; instead content to hold the woman he loved in his arms. He felt her tears on his neck and realised that he too was crying.
But that didn't matter. Nothing did anymore.
It was all over. He could live now.