Chapter 25 - Rage
The crackling of flames grew louder. High above, the sky grew dark and yellow as if a tornado would soon approach, a color Harry felt promised nothing but evil.
He waited for a signal, a sign that they should start, and then he thought that he himself was the sign.
With a growl of pure rage, he started across the street running straight for Voldemort.
"Stop, Harry!" Snape yelled somewhere behind him.
But Harry would not stop, could not. His anger seemed to levitate himself a few feet off the ground, and the entire world went silent as he ran straight for the enemy that had killed his parents, tortured his friends, and slaughtered innocent lives. In that silence, Harry had never felt more sure of himself, sure of what he was doing, ready to plow down evil and ensure that after today, Voldemort never killed again. It was a beautiful, enraging feeling.
He could see Voldemort now, the ugly creature holding out his wand, his eyes glinting with malice. The last time Harry had seen him this closely, he was standing over Cedric's body. Bellatrix stood beside Voldemort, her mask off. She had killed Sirius, laughed as he died.
Harry raised his wand, but before he could shout out a single spell, a crack of lightning blew across Diagon Alley. The earth rumbled, and then quaked so hard that Harry toppled to his knees. He expected to have the Death Eaters on him in a second, but he saw them struggle for balance and a few of them falling as well. Harry wondered if Dumbledore had caused the quake, but he didn't allow himself time to think. He pulled himself to his feet to face Voldemort.
"Harry Potter," Voldemort smiled. "You come to face me with an army. Surrender to me, give yourself up, and I will spare the lives of all your friends. Fight me and I will torture them to death."
Harry smiled back just as coldly. "Surrender to me, Voldemort, and I'll kill you quickly."
Harry could feel his entire army drawing close, but he stood feet away from Voldemort, vulnerable to a single death stroke from any of the Death Eaters. But Harry planned to meet his end head-on, face-first. He would not cower before death, but hold his head high.
"My wand does not work against yours," Voldemort said. "So I have borrowed another's wand. Avada Keda-"
A sound snapped beside Harry, and he barely had time to recognize Snape before the man wrapped his arms around Harry and they Apparated.
Once Snape let go, Harry stumbled to a standstill in a small room. From the light and sounds coming from the one window, he guessed Snape had taken him to a room on the other side of Diagon Alley, to a building still standing and not on fire.
"Are you mad?" he yelled at Snape. "Take me back. We have to fight. They'll get slaughtered without me."
Another snap, and Augusta Longbottom appeared.
"You said you were going to wait," she spoke to Snape. "You said it would only be a last resort. My grandson is out there –"
"I know. But I can't watch him try to kill Harry," Snape was rolling up his sleeves. "We do it now, Augusta, and then we leave him up here."
"What is going on?" Harry demanded. "Are you under the Imperius Curse?"
"You'll understand later," Snape promised. He took out a knife and pressed the tip to his wrist. A single drop of blood appeared. "Your wrist."
Without hesitation, Harry put out his wrist, tugging up both his sleeves to the elbow. He had no idea of what Snape was planning, but he assumed it must be worthwhile to keep them in here while the battle raged outside. He could hear the sound of spells whizzing through the air and the yells and screams of pain.
Snape pressed the knife to his wrist – a moment of pain – and then the blood appeared.
"I got Portkey-ed here by accident," Harry said in a rush as Snape used the knife on Augusta's wrist. "I didn't mean to, but Draco and Ron tricked me. Then the Death Eaters showed up."
"Did you set the buildings on fire?"
"Yes, to attract attention."
"Good boy," Snape slipped the knife back in his pocket; he raised his wrist and motioned for Harry to do the same.
"How did you get here so fast?" Harry put his wrist up and their blood mingled together.
"The pocketwatch I gave you for your birthday, the one you carry with you? It's equipped with a magical marker so I know where you are at all times," Snape then pressed his bleeding wrist to Augusta's.
"Still spying on me," Harry shook his head with a smile as he pressed his blood to Augusta's. "Did you alert Hogwarts?"
"Yes. All right, the mixing of the blood is complete. Augusta?"
"Time for the exchange," Augusta grabbed Harry's hand and Snape's. Snape grabbed Harry's other hand so they stood in a circle of three. Augusta and Snape both moved their wands to their right hands, and Harry did the same so that there was a wand in each of the clasped hands.
Augusta began to speak the rite in Latin. Harry had never heard it before, but he recognized certain words: power, sacrifice, loyalty, privilege. Then she paused.
"I accept," Snape said, his voice firm. He looked at Harry. "Say you accept."
Harry thought about voicing his confusion and uncertainty, but he heard himself say, "I accept."
"The participants accept," Augusta said in a blank tone. "Here they give themselves willingly. Let the rite finish."
The room was silent. Harry suddenly felt silly, holding hands with two adults in a circle. Then his wand began to glow.
The tip glowed at first, then the whole length, and it was pulsing magic in spurts. Snape's wand did the same and Augusta's and a ring of light shone through the wands, going right through the torso of all three of them.
The magic grew stronger and stronger. The windows began to clatter, the floor shook, and the magic felt like an electric current.
Without warning, pain shot through Harry's forehead, right around the scar. It was so sudden, so awful, he screamed and tried to raise his right hand, but Snape held it down, squeezing his fingers in a vice-like grip.
"Hold still – it won't last long."
"Ah –ah," Harry tried to clench his teeth to stop from screaming. His forehead burned with pain. It felt like his scar was being cut out with a knife. It dug deeper and deeper – the torment was unbearable.
"Harry, I'm here, right beside you," Snape promised. "Listen to my voice – concentrate on my voice. Remember last summer. Think about something we did last summer."
Harry tried, but the pain was pushing out every thought he had. His world had narrowed down to the torture, the feeling of having his forehead cut apart.
The pain lessened slightly (or perhaps he had just learned to take it) when his left lower arm began to burn. The underside of his arm grew hotter and hotter, and he squirmed trying to ride the pain out. He had shut his eyes long ago, and he stood in darkness, holding the two hands for dear life and trying to ride out the agony.
The pain in his forehead stopped, vanishing as if it had never hurt before, but his arm kept hurting and burning until it reached a crescendo of hot-white pain that had him gritting his teeth and groaning between them in torment.
The pain receded from his arm, but it kept up a steady throb, aching like a recent wound.
Harry opened his eyes and peered down at his arm. There on his arm, like a new tattoo, was the Death Mark. He stared at the skull with the snake slithering out of the mouth, not believing that it was on his arm.
"It has to be an exchange of marks," Snape said quietly.
With dread, Harry looked up. There on Snape's forehead was the lightning-like scar, the scar that Harry had seen every time he looked in the mirror, only in the mirror it was backwards. But he would know that scar anywhere.
Harry reached up to touch his own forehead, but his skin felt smooth. He couldn't feel the slight raise of scarred skin, the jagged line that reminded him of his parents' death every time he touched it.
"What are you –" Harry never got to finish his sentence.
"Stupefy!" Augusta hit him with the spell. Harry felt his body go rigid and he fell back.
Snape caught him before he could hit the ground and slowly lowered him back on the floor. "I'm sorry," he said to Harry. "It's the only way I could figure to keep you safe. I don't mind – really I don't. I can do more this way. If I have the scar, I can fight him and that way you aren't at risk."
"We don't have time, Severus," Augusta looked out the window before flinging something towards Snape.
"Someday when you have your own children, you'll understand," Snape said. He shook out the object, and Harry recognized his Invisibility Cloak. "You've been a great son for this last half year. I'm sorry I won't be here to watch you grow into the man you were meant to be. I'll always love you."
Snape gave him the saddest smile in the world and then covered him up with the Cloak.
"No, Snape, stop," Harry screamed inside his head, unable to move his mouth. "Let me go. Don't – don't! I won't let you do it – I won't let him kill you. Please, please, please, please."
Through the cloak, Harry saw Snape and Augusta walk to the door. Snape looked back at him though Harry knew he couldn't see anything.
"Goodbye, Harry," the man said. He left.
Still under the body-bind, Harry tried to concentrate on breathing, an automatic reflex that worked under the spell. He couldn't believe Snape would do this to him, decide to take Harry's place to fight Voldemort. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't Snape's choice to make. Snape didn't get to decide who fought and who died and who took whose mark to fight.
Harry tried to move, but the spell still stuck. It reminded him of early last summer when Snape had decided that he needed a nap and immobilized him in bed. Harry had been furious at Snape then, but Snape had known then that the stupid fireplace had made Harry sick. Snape always knew things and never told Harry – how long had Snape been planning to take Harry's scar and fight Voldemort himself?
Harry's eyes filled with tears, and they brimmed until they obscured his vision and trickled down the edges of his face to his ears. He felt betrayed by Snape, not because Snape had gone to the evil side, but because Snape had thought Harry would just want to go along with it. Snape really was the ultimate bastard.
"Stop it, stop it," Harry told himself firmly. "Stop crying. Concentrate on moving. This can't last forever. Finite Incantatem. Move your fingers, move your legs. Finite Incantatem."
Nothing happened, but Harry kept concentrating on moving and on repeating the spell in his head over and over again. It was madly frustrating, not being able to move his own body, but he refused to give up.
Several long minutes passed, and then he felt his finger twitch. He worked on that hand, the one that held the wand. He willed the magic to move, wanting the binding spell to diminish faster. The moment his mouth loosened, he spoke the words aloud, "Finite Incantatem."
The binding spell fell away considerably, enough for Harry to sit up but not to stand. Grasping his wand, he bellowed the words again as loud as he could. The rest of the spell fell away, and Harry staggered to his feet.
"You better be alive, Severus Snape," he pulled the Cloak around his shoulders, "because I intend to kick your sorry behind all over this alley."
The door was shut and locked from the outside, but Harry leaned to the side and delivered a roundhouse kick right by the lock. The old wood shook violently, but the door didn't break. Harry kicked it again – it groaned loudly, and on the third kick, his foot went through the door. He pulled his foot out and reached through the splintered hole and unlocked the knob.
He ran down the stairs and outside into the cold.
The whole street was full of fighting, spells and curses blasting through the open air and slamming into the remaining buildings. The fight had moved away from the Leaky Cauldron which was blazing like an inferno. Several people lay dead on the ground, but Harry didn't stop to find out who they were. Up ahead, Ron and Hermione had cornered Bellatrix against the wall while she screeched obscenities at them.
"No, wait," a voice came behind Harry. Neville ran up to stand beside Ron and Hermione. "I get to kill her. She tortured my parents, made them mad." He squared his shoulders and faced Bellatrix. "You're the reason I didn't have parents."
Harry had stopped, thinking he should help to end Bellatrix, but Neville's words made him reconsider. Bellatrix belonged to Neville – she was his enemy as much as she was Harry's.
"Oh, look, it's a sad puppy," Bellatrix put her head to the side sympathetically. "Do you know that your mother asked to die in your place? She begged me to kill her and spare you, but I made sure her last moments of sanity were hearing me say that I would kill her baby. She went crazy knowing I would come after you next."
Neville said nothing. He reached forward and grabbed Bellatrix by the neck, and she screamed. Harry had never realized how tall Neville had gotten – he still seemed the clumsy, accident-prone boy who had arrived at Hogwarts five and a half years ago. But the man that reached out to choke Bellatrix was neither clumsy nor accident-prone.
"I'll kill you fast," Neville promised, pulling out a short dagger, "because it's what my parents would have wanted."
Harry turned and started running down the alley. He knew Neville would kill her, and while it would have been satisfying to watch Bellatrix die after all the evil she had committed, Harry knew he had to go find Snape first.
The fight had spread down Knockturn Alley as well, and more wizards had appeared. Delores Umbridge was battling Professor Trelawney in one side alley, shooting burning curses at the Divinations teacher.
"Ooo, that's what you get for resisting," Umbridge said in her high, girlish voice. "I'll have to punish you before I kill you."
Trelawney tried to defend herself, tried to shoot back spells, but Umbridge's next shot caught her across the middle, and the teacher fell to the ground. Harry saw the back of her shirt ripped open, the blood seeping through the pale skin.
"A little birdie's hurt," Umbridge giggled. "Time to die quietly, my dear, like all bad people should."
Harry ripped off his Cloak, pointed his wand at Umbridge, and shouted, "Crucio!"
Never would he have believed the satisfaction that tore through him as he watched Umbridge fall against the building and scream in pain as she shook. Almost sick with his fury at her, Harry stood over her, watching her writhe with the torture.
"You finally got what was coming to you, you ugly cow," Harry said. "How does that feel? Does it feel good? Does it help you remember to be a better person, to not tell lies?"
Umbridge was gurgling, her mouth frothing. Harry grabbed her wand out of her hand and broke it against the building. "Finite Incantatem," Harry said, and Umbridge slumped to the ground.
McGonagall ran into sight. "What is – Mr. Potter – what have – Umbridge!"
"Professor," Harry handed her the broken wand, "can I trust you to help Professor Trelawney and get this evil hag where she belongs?"
"You can more than trust me, Potter," McGonagall firmly pocketed the wand. "You can consider it my utmost pleasure. But where are –"
"I'm going to find Snape and Voldemort," Harry swung his Cloak back on.
"Wait," McGonagall objected, "it's too dangerous. Oh, where did he go with that silly Cloak? Easy, easy, Sybill. Umbridge, if you try to move, I'll transfigure you into a mouse for me to chase."
Harry couldn't help but smile as he ran again. Trust McGonagall to hold her own.
At the end of Knockturn Alley, the street was dark and empty. Harry thought Snape might have Apparated somewhere else, but a movement inside a shop caught his eye.
Harry ran right up to the window and slammed his shoulder into it. As the glass splintered, he stepped inside and pulled off his Cloak.
Snape and Voldemort faced each other inside the shop, wands drawn.
"Go, Harry," Snape ordered, "this isn't your fight anymore."
"Just because I lost the scar doesn't mean I'm no longer in this fight," Harry braced himself beside Snape. "This has always been my fight no matter how much you try to stop me."
"Then two will die tonight instead of one," Voldemort smiled.
"Or just one ugly half-dead freak," Harry grinned. "Alohamora!"
He ducked as the desk he had spelled whizzed over his head and slammed into Voldemort. Voldemort had aimed a curse at Snape, but it went off target as the desk hit him. Snape reached for Voldemort's wand, but before he could get it, Nagini shot out of a pile of rubble, hissing fiercely.
Snape drew back from the snake, but Harry eyed it warily.
"Touch him," he told the snake in Parceltongue, "and I will kill you."
Nagini raised herself up in the air, swaying slightly, and then lunged for Snape. Harry grabbed its tail and whipped the snake back, bashing it against the wall. The snake flopped down and zigzagged dizzily on the floor.
"I said not to touch," Harry hissed.
Voldemort sneered as he stood, his wand clutched firmly. "Time to end the party."
Then three things happened at once.
Harry leapt forward and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"
Snape flung his wand out and yelled, "Diffindo."
But Voldemort had pointed his wand at Snape and yelled, "Avada Kedavra."
Light burst out of their wands – Voldemort's a reddish tint, Snape's green, and Harry's slightly blue. But the three lights converged and then rushed towards Snape.
The moment the lights hit him, the shop exploded with lightning and sound, so strong Harry fell to his knees again. Snape caught on fire and then the fire filled the room and exploded again.
Heavy smoke filled the room, the smell of sulfur and ash, but Snape was gone.
"Snape?" Harry whirled around. "Snape, where are you?"
No answer came.
Harry looked at Voldemort. "Where did he go? What did you do to him?"
Voldemort grinned and picked something up off the ground. It took Harry a moment to figure out what it was: a thin strip of skin with blood on one side and a jagged scar on the other.
"You killed him," Harry said so softly he wondered if he was even speaking. "You killed Snape."
"No, my boy," Voldemort laughed, "we killed him. Our magic together, stronger than his. He really was a weak, pathetic man, a waste of space and magic. He should have died long ago. Why did Dumbledore ever pick such a useless guardian for his precious prince?"
Harry felt something screaming inside him, something that kept tripping and picking itself up, stronger and angrier each time it fell.
"Yes, I knew," Voldemort smiled, stroking his wand fondly. "Snape revealed it early in the summer. You were staying with him, and he planned to keep you with him. I wanted to go after you then, but Snape said Dumbledore was watching too closely. So he agreed to bring you to me at New Year's. I didn't expect him to fight on the other side, but he did get you here, so I only planned to torture him a while before I killed him. But now he's gone."
"You've done it," Harry realized. "You've taken away everything I cared about again. I don't know what motivates you to hurt others like this, but I'm here right now to make sure you never get the power you want. I'm still not dead."
Harry dove to the side and grabbed the visible tail of the snake. He heard the death curse fly over his head, but Harry bashed Nagini's head against the wall to stun the snake. Reaching into his pocket, Harry pulled out the pocket watch and chain, yanking the end free from his belt loop.
He stood up and flung a disarming spell at Voldemort which missed, but Harry dropped back down and looped a tightening noose around the snake's head. He stood again, keeping his foot on the snake's head and holding the end of the chain so that the speed of his standing up tightened the chain around the snake and then completely cut off the snake's head.
Blood spurted everywhere, and Voldemort screamed, "Nagini! What have you done to my snake?"
"Same thing I'm going to do to you," Harry leapt up, the snake's decapitated head in his hand. Nagini had died with her fangs out, sharp and deadly, and Harry angled the fangs away from his wrist as he ran towards his worst enemy.
Voldemort threw a curse at him, and Harry felt the Cruciatus Curse hit as he tackled the older man. The torture curse splintered pain through his body, but Harry used his last remaining strength to jam the two fangs into Voldemort's neck.
Voldemort stumbled back, and Harry went with him, caught in a grotesque death hug as Harry shook with pain, but kept the fangs in Voldemort's neck. They sprawled on the floor, Harry's elbow and arm on Voldemort's chest while Harry's legs flopped in pain on the floor.
Voldemort reached for his wand, but Harry head-butted, crashing his forehead against Voldemort's face and what was left of Voldemort's nose.
Harry screamed his loudest, unable to bear the Cruciatus Curse a moment longer, but he knew that the spell could not last forever. He was stronger than the pain – Snape had trained him to ignore pain and keep going, keep fighting, keep enduring until the end.
"Damn you," Harry dug the fangs into Voldemort's neck another inch. "I don't care if we both die here tonight – we will be rid of you once and forever."
Harry grabbed Voldemort's wand and threw it across the room. The man was frothing at the mouth as the poison worked inside him.
Harry drew himself up and grabbed his wand. With both hands around it, he drew the wand up and stabbed it down in Voldemort's chest, driving it right into his heart.
Dark magic slammed through the room, throwing Harry off and breaking the other windows. Voldemort writhed on the ground, gurgling curses, but it was too late for him.
In the murky shadows of the abandoned shop, Harry watched Voldemort die on the ash-littered floor. When the great, ugly body lay still, Harry pulled himself up, wincing at the last remains of the Cruciatus curse. He limped over to Voldemort's body and yanked his wand out of Voldemort's chest. It was slick with dark red blood. Harry pointed his wand down.
"Incendio," he gasped.
Voldemort's clothes caught fire, and Harry kept feeding the flames pieces of wooden furniture until the room blazed with fire. He added the snake's body to the fire and once the floor started to burn as well, Harry limped back out into the alley.
The streets were empty until he reached Diagon Alley. There he saw that the fight had finished – the Ministry having shown up to quell and round up the rest of the Death Eaters. Everyone was clamoring and talking until they saw Harry.
Silence spread over the crowd like a wave as Harry limped towards them. The crowd parted and Ron and Hermione ran for him. They held him up, Hermione supporting him with her good arm.
"What happened?" they asked him.
"Voldemort's dead – I killed him," Harry held out Voldemort's wand.
"Voldemort's dead," Ron yelled towards the crowd, grabbing the wand from Harry and holding it up high.
The cheering from the crowd was deafening – it almost felt like the buildings were howling in victory.
"Harry?" Hermione put a hand on his dirty, sooty face.
"Snape died," Harry said. Something swelled inside him, and he was only dimly aware that tears were pouring down his face, and he looked down to see his blood dripping onto the dirty street.
He was so tired and he couldn't walk anymore and he wanted to be alone and he never wanted to be alone.
Dumbledore was in front of him, and then a soft light was around Harry, carrying him off to a quiet, dreamless sleep.
He waited for a signal, a sign that they should start, and then he thought that he himself was the sign.
With a growl of pure rage, he started across the street running straight for Voldemort.
"Stop, Harry!" Snape yelled somewhere behind him.
But Harry would not stop, could not. His anger seemed to levitate himself a few feet off the ground, and the entire world went silent as he ran straight for the enemy that had killed his parents, tortured his friends, and slaughtered innocent lives. In that silence, Harry had never felt more sure of himself, sure of what he was doing, ready to plow down evil and ensure that after today, Voldemort never killed again. It was a beautiful, enraging feeling.
He could see Voldemort now, the ugly creature holding out his wand, his eyes glinting with malice. The last time Harry had seen him this closely, he was standing over Cedric's body. Bellatrix stood beside Voldemort, her mask off. She had killed Sirius, laughed as he died.
Harry raised his wand, but before he could shout out a single spell, a crack of lightning blew across Diagon Alley. The earth rumbled, and then quaked so hard that Harry toppled to his knees. He expected to have the Death Eaters on him in a second, but he saw them struggle for balance and a few of them falling as well. Harry wondered if Dumbledore had caused the quake, but he didn't allow himself time to think. He pulled himself to his feet to face Voldemort.
"Harry Potter," Voldemort smiled. "You come to face me with an army. Surrender to me, give yourself up, and I will spare the lives of all your friends. Fight me and I will torture them to death."
Harry smiled back just as coldly. "Surrender to me, Voldemort, and I'll kill you quickly."
Harry could feel his entire army drawing close, but he stood feet away from Voldemort, vulnerable to a single death stroke from any of the Death Eaters. But Harry planned to meet his end head-on, face-first. He would not cower before death, but hold his head high.
"My wand does not work against yours," Voldemort said. "So I have borrowed another's wand. Avada Keda-"
A sound snapped beside Harry, and he barely had time to recognize Snape before the man wrapped his arms around Harry and they Apparated.
Once Snape let go, Harry stumbled to a standstill in a small room. From the light and sounds coming from the one window, he guessed Snape had taken him to a room on the other side of Diagon Alley, to a building still standing and not on fire.
"Are you mad?" he yelled at Snape. "Take me back. We have to fight. They'll get slaughtered without me."
Another snap, and Augusta Longbottom appeared.
"You said you were going to wait," she spoke to Snape. "You said it would only be a last resort. My grandson is out there –"
"I know. But I can't watch him try to kill Harry," Snape was rolling up his sleeves. "We do it now, Augusta, and then we leave him up here."
"What is going on?" Harry demanded. "Are you under the Imperius Curse?"
"You'll understand later," Snape promised. He took out a knife and pressed the tip to his wrist. A single drop of blood appeared. "Your wrist."
Without hesitation, Harry put out his wrist, tugging up both his sleeves to the elbow. He had no idea of what Snape was planning, but he assumed it must be worthwhile to keep them in here while the battle raged outside. He could hear the sound of spells whizzing through the air and the yells and screams of pain.
Snape pressed the knife to his wrist – a moment of pain – and then the blood appeared.
"I got Portkey-ed here by accident," Harry said in a rush as Snape used the knife on Augusta's wrist. "I didn't mean to, but Draco and Ron tricked me. Then the Death Eaters showed up."
"Did you set the buildings on fire?"
"Yes, to attract attention."
"Good boy," Snape slipped the knife back in his pocket; he raised his wrist and motioned for Harry to do the same.
"How did you get here so fast?" Harry put his wrist up and their blood mingled together.
"The pocketwatch I gave you for your birthday, the one you carry with you? It's equipped with a magical marker so I know where you are at all times," Snape then pressed his bleeding wrist to Augusta's.
"Still spying on me," Harry shook his head with a smile as he pressed his blood to Augusta's. "Did you alert Hogwarts?"
"Yes. All right, the mixing of the blood is complete. Augusta?"
"Time for the exchange," Augusta grabbed Harry's hand and Snape's. Snape grabbed Harry's other hand so they stood in a circle of three. Augusta and Snape both moved their wands to their right hands, and Harry did the same so that there was a wand in each of the clasped hands.
Augusta began to speak the rite in Latin. Harry had never heard it before, but he recognized certain words: power, sacrifice, loyalty, privilege. Then she paused.
"I accept," Snape said, his voice firm. He looked at Harry. "Say you accept."
Harry thought about voicing his confusion and uncertainty, but he heard himself say, "I accept."
"The participants accept," Augusta said in a blank tone. "Here they give themselves willingly. Let the rite finish."
The room was silent. Harry suddenly felt silly, holding hands with two adults in a circle. Then his wand began to glow.
The tip glowed at first, then the whole length, and it was pulsing magic in spurts. Snape's wand did the same and Augusta's and a ring of light shone through the wands, going right through the torso of all three of them.
The magic grew stronger and stronger. The windows began to clatter, the floor shook, and the magic felt like an electric current.
Without warning, pain shot through Harry's forehead, right around the scar. It was so sudden, so awful, he screamed and tried to raise his right hand, but Snape held it down, squeezing his fingers in a vice-like grip.
"Hold still – it won't last long."
"Ah –ah," Harry tried to clench his teeth to stop from screaming. His forehead burned with pain. It felt like his scar was being cut out with a knife. It dug deeper and deeper – the torment was unbearable.
"Harry, I'm here, right beside you," Snape promised. "Listen to my voice – concentrate on my voice. Remember last summer. Think about something we did last summer."
Harry tried, but the pain was pushing out every thought he had. His world had narrowed down to the torture, the feeling of having his forehead cut apart.
The pain lessened slightly (or perhaps he had just learned to take it) when his left lower arm began to burn. The underside of his arm grew hotter and hotter, and he squirmed trying to ride the pain out. He had shut his eyes long ago, and he stood in darkness, holding the two hands for dear life and trying to ride out the agony.
The pain in his forehead stopped, vanishing as if it had never hurt before, but his arm kept hurting and burning until it reached a crescendo of hot-white pain that had him gritting his teeth and groaning between them in torment.
The pain receded from his arm, but it kept up a steady throb, aching like a recent wound.
Harry opened his eyes and peered down at his arm. There on his arm, like a new tattoo, was the Death Mark. He stared at the skull with the snake slithering out of the mouth, not believing that it was on his arm.
"It has to be an exchange of marks," Snape said quietly.
With dread, Harry looked up. There on Snape's forehead was the lightning-like scar, the scar that Harry had seen every time he looked in the mirror, only in the mirror it was backwards. But he would know that scar anywhere.
Harry reached up to touch his own forehead, but his skin felt smooth. He couldn't feel the slight raise of scarred skin, the jagged line that reminded him of his parents' death every time he touched it.
"What are you –" Harry never got to finish his sentence.
"Stupefy!" Augusta hit him with the spell. Harry felt his body go rigid and he fell back.
Snape caught him before he could hit the ground and slowly lowered him back on the floor. "I'm sorry," he said to Harry. "It's the only way I could figure to keep you safe. I don't mind – really I don't. I can do more this way. If I have the scar, I can fight him and that way you aren't at risk."
"We don't have time, Severus," Augusta looked out the window before flinging something towards Snape.
"Someday when you have your own children, you'll understand," Snape said. He shook out the object, and Harry recognized his Invisibility Cloak. "You've been a great son for this last half year. I'm sorry I won't be here to watch you grow into the man you were meant to be. I'll always love you."
Snape gave him the saddest smile in the world and then covered him up with the Cloak.
"No, Snape, stop," Harry screamed inside his head, unable to move his mouth. "Let me go. Don't – don't! I won't let you do it – I won't let him kill you. Please, please, please, please."
Through the cloak, Harry saw Snape and Augusta walk to the door. Snape looked back at him though Harry knew he couldn't see anything.
"Goodbye, Harry," the man said. He left.
Still under the body-bind, Harry tried to concentrate on breathing, an automatic reflex that worked under the spell. He couldn't believe Snape would do this to him, decide to take Harry's place to fight Voldemort. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't Snape's choice to make. Snape didn't get to decide who fought and who died and who took whose mark to fight.
Harry tried to move, but the spell still stuck. It reminded him of early last summer when Snape had decided that he needed a nap and immobilized him in bed. Harry had been furious at Snape then, but Snape had known then that the stupid fireplace had made Harry sick. Snape always knew things and never told Harry – how long had Snape been planning to take Harry's scar and fight Voldemort himself?
Harry's eyes filled with tears, and they brimmed until they obscured his vision and trickled down the edges of his face to his ears. He felt betrayed by Snape, not because Snape had gone to the evil side, but because Snape had thought Harry would just want to go along with it. Snape really was the ultimate bastard.
"Stop it, stop it," Harry told himself firmly. "Stop crying. Concentrate on moving. This can't last forever. Finite Incantatem. Move your fingers, move your legs. Finite Incantatem."
Nothing happened, but Harry kept concentrating on moving and on repeating the spell in his head over and over again. It was madly frustrating, not being able to move his own body, but he refused to give up.
Several long minutes passed, and then he felt his finger twitch. He worked on that hand, the one that held the wand. He willed the magic to move, wanting the binding spell to diminish faster. The moment his mouth loosened, he spoke the words aloud, "Finite Incantatem."
The binding spell fell away considerably, enough for Harry to sit up but not to stand. Grasping his wand, he bellowed the words again as loud as he could. The rest of the spell fell away, and Harry staggered to his feet.
"You better be alive, Severus Snape," he pulled the Cloak around his shoulders, "because I intend to kick your sorry behind all over this alley."
The door was shut and locked from the outside, but Harry leaned to the side and delivered a roundhouse kick right by the lock. The old wood shook violently, but the door didn't break. Harry kicked it again – it groaned loudly, and on the third kick, his foot went through the door. He pulled his foot out and reached through the splintered hole and unlocked the knob.
He ran down the stairs and outside into the cold.
The whole street was full of fighting, spells and curses blasting through the open air and slamming into the remaining buildings. The fight had moved away from the Leaky Cauldron which was blazing like an inferno. Several people lay dead on the ground, but Harry didn't stop to find out who they were. Up ahead, Ron and Hermione had cornered Bellatrix against the wall while she screeched obscenities at them.
"No, wait," a voice came behind Harry. Neville ran up to stand beside Ron and Hermione. "I get to kill her. She tortured my parents, made them mad." He squared his shoulders and faced Bellatrix. "You're the reason I didn't have parents."
Harry had stopped, thinking he should help to end Bellatrix, but Neville's words made him reconsider. Bellatrix belonged to Neville – she was his enemy as much as she was Harry's.
"Oh, look, it's a sad puppy," Bellatrix put her head to the side sympathetically. "Do you know that your mother asked to die in your place? She begged me to kill her and spare you, but I made sure her last moments of sanity were hearing me say that I would kill her baby. She went crazy knowing I would come after you next."
Neville said nothing. He reached forward and grabbed Bellatrix by the neck, and she screamed. Harry had never realized how tall Neville had gotten – he still seemed the clumsy, accident-prone boy who had arrived at Hogwarts five and a half years ago. But the man that reached out to choke Bellatrix was neither clumsy nor accident-prone.
"I'll kill you fast," Neville promised, pulling out a short dagger, "because it's what my parents would have wanted."
Harry turned and started running down the alley. He knew Neville would kill her, and while it would have been satisfying to watch Bellatrix die after all the evil she had committed, Harry knew he had to go find Snape first.
The fight had spread down Knockturn Alley as well, and more wizards had appeared. Delores Umbridge was battling Professor Trelawney in one side alley, shooting burning curses at the Divinations teacher.
"Ooo, that's what you get for resisting," Umbridge said in her high, girlish voice. "I'll have to punish you before I kill you."
Trelawney tried to defend herself, tried to shoot back spells, but Umbridge's next shot caught her across the middle, and the teacher fell to the ground. Harry saw the back of her shirt ripped open, the blood seeping through the pale skin.
"A little birdie's hurt," Umbridge giggled. "Time to die quietly, my dear, like all bad people should."
Harry ripped off his Cloak, pointed his wand at Umbridge, and shouted, "Crucio!"
Never would he have believed the satisfaction that tore through him as he watched Umbridge fall against the building and scream in pain as she shook. Almost sick with his fury at her, Harry stood over her, watching her writhe with the torture.
"You finally got what was coming to you, you ugly cow," Harry said. "How does that feel? Does it feel good? Does it help you remember to be a better person, to not tell lies?"
Umbridge was gurgling, her mouth frothing. Harry grabbed her wand out of her hand and broke it against the building. "Finite Incantatem," Harry said, and Umbridge slumped to the ground.
McGonagall ran into sight. "What is – Mr. Potter – what have – Umbridge!"
"Professor," Harry handed her the broken wand, "can I trust you to help Professor Trelawney and get this evil hag where she belongs?"
"You can more than trust me, Potter," McGonagall firmly pocketed the wand. "You can consider it my utmost pleasure. But where are –"
"I'm going to find Snape and Voldemort," Harry swung his Cloak back on.
"Wait," McGonagall objected, "it's too dangerous. Oh, where did he go with that silly Cloak? Easy, easy, Sybill. Umbridge, if you try to move, I'll transfigure you into a mouse for me to chase."
Harry couldn't help but smile as he ran again. Trust McGonagall to hold her own.
At the end of Knockturn Alley, the street was dark and empty. Harry thought Snape might have Apparated somewhere else, but a movement inside a shop caught his eye.
Harry ran right up to the window and slammed his shoulder into it. As the glass splintered, he stepped inside and pulled off his Cloak.
Snape and Voldemort faced each other inside the shop, wands drawn.
"Go, Harry," Snape ordered, "this isn't your fight anymore."
"Just because I lost the scar doesn't mean I'm no longer in this fight," Harry braced himself beside Snape. "This has always been my fight no matter how much you try to stop me."
"Then two will die tonight instead of one," Voldemort smiled.
"Or just one ugly half-dead freak," Harry grinned. "Alohamora!"
He ducked as the desk he had spelled whizzed over his head and slammed into Voldemort. Voldemort had aimed a curse at Snape, but it went off target as the desk hit him. Snape reached for Voldemort's wand, but before he could get it, Nagini shot out of a pile of rubble, hissing fiercely.
Snape drew back from the snake, but Harry eyed it warily.
"Touch him," he told the snake in Parceltongue, "and I will kill you."
Nagini raised herself up in the air, swaying slightly, and then lunged for Snape. Harry grabbed its tail and whipped the snake back, bashing it against the wall. The snake flopped down and zigzagged dizzily on the floor.
"I said not to touch," Harry hissed.
Voldemort sneered as he stood, his wand clutched firmly. "Time to end the party."
Then three things happened at once.
Harry leapt forward and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"
Snape flung his wand out and yelled, "Diffindo."
But Voldemort had pointed his wand at Snape and yelled, "Avada Kedavra."
Light burst out of their wands – Voldemort's a reddish tint, Snape's green, and Harry's slightly blue. But the three lights converged and then rushed towards Snape.
The moment the lights hit him, the shop exploded with lightning and sound, so strong Harry fell to his knees again. Snape caught on fire and then the fire filled the room and exploded again.
Heavy smoke filled the room, the smell of sulfur and ash, but Snape was gone.
"Snape?" Harry whirled around. "Snape, where are you?"
No answer came.
Harry looked at Voldemort. "Where did he go? What did you do to him?"
Voldemort grinned and picked something up off the ground. It took Harry a moment to figure out what it was: a thin strip of skin with blood on one side and a jagged scar on the other.
"You killed him," Harry said so softly he wondered if he was even speaking. "You killed Snape."
"No, my boy," Voldemort laughed, "we killed him. Our magic together, stronger than his. He really was a weak, pathetic man, a waste of space and magic. He should have died long ago. Why did Dumbledore ever pick such a useless guardian for his precious prince?"
Harry felt something screaming inside him, something that kept tripping and picking itself up, stronger and angrier each time it fell.
"Yes, I knew," Voldemort smiled, stroking his wand fondly. "Snape revealed it early in the summer. You were staying with him, and he planned to keep you with him. I wanted to go after you then, but Snape said Dumbledore was watching too closely. So he agreed to bring you to me at New Year's. I didn't expect him to fight on the other side, but he did get you here, so I only planned to torture him a while before I killed him. But now he's gone."
"You've done it," Harry realized. "You've taken away everything I cared about again. I don't know what motivates you to hurt others like this, but I'm here right now to make sure you never get the power you want. I'm still not dead."
Harry dove to the side and grabbed the visible tail of the snake. He heard the death curse fly over his head, but Harry bashed Nagini's head against the wall to stun the snake. Reaching into his pocket, Harry pulled out the pocket watch and chain, yanking the end free from his belt loop.
He stood up and flung a disarming spell at Voldemort which missed, but Harry dropped back down and looped a tightening noose around the snake's head. He stood again, keeping his foot on the snake's head and holding the end of the chain so that the speed of his standing up tightened the chain around the snake and then completely cut off the snake's head.
Blood spurted everywhere, and Voldemort screamed, "Nagini! What have you done to my snake?"
"Same thing I'm going to do to you," Harry leapt up, the snake's decapitated head in his hand. Nagini had died with her fangs out, sharp and deadly, and Harry angled the fangs away from his wrist as he ran towards his worst enemy.
Voldemort threw a curse at him, and Harry felt the Cruciatus Curse hit as he tackled the older man. The torture curse splintered pain through his body, but Harry used his last remaining strength to jam the two fangs into Voldemort's neck.
Voldemort stumbled back, and Harry went with him, caught in a grotesque death hug as Harry shook with pain, but kept the fangs in Voldemort's neck. They sprawled on the floor, Harry's elbow and arm on Voldemort's chest while Harry's legs flopped in pain on the floor.
Voldemort reached for his wand, but Harry head-butted, crashing his forehead against Voldemort's face and what was left of Voldemort's nose.
Harry screamed his loudest, unable to bear the Cruciatus Curse a moment longer, but he knew that the spell could not last forever. He was stronger than the pain – Snape had trained him to ignore pain and keep going, keep fighting, keep enduring until the end.
"Damn you," Harry dug the fangs into Voldemort's neck another inch. "I don't care if we both die here tonight – we will be rid of you once and forever."
Harry grabbed Voldemort's wand and threw it across the room. The man was frothing at the mouth as the poison worked inside him.
Harry drew himself up and grabbed his wand. With both hands around it, he drew the wand up and stabbed it down in Voldemort's chest, driving it right into his heart.
Dark magic slammed through the room, throwing Harry off and breaking the other windows. Voldemort writhed on the ground, gurgling curses, but it was too late for him.
In the murky shadows of the abandoned shop, Harry watched Voldemort die on the ash-littered floor. When the great, ugly body lay still, Harry pulled himself up, wincing at the last remains of the Cruciatus curse. He limped over to Voldemort's body and yanked his wand out of Voldemort's chest. It was slick with dark red blood. Harry pointed his wand down.
"Incendio," he gasped.
Voldemort's clothes caught fire, and Harry kept feeding the flames pieces of wooden furniture until the room blazed with fire. He added the snake's body to the fire and once the floor started to burn as well, Harry limped back out into the alley.
The streets were empty until he reached Diagon Alley. There he saw that the fight had finished – the Ministry having shown up to quell and round up the rest of the Death Eaters. Everyone was clamoring and talking until they saw Harry.
Silence spread over the crowd like a wave as Harry limped towards them. The crowd parted and Ron and Hermione ran for him. They held him up, Hermione supporting him with her good arm.
"What happened?" they asked him.
"Voldemort's dead – I killed him," Harry held out Voldemort's wand.
"Voldemort's dead," Ron yelled towards the crowd, grabbing the wand from Harry and holding it up high.
The cheering from the crowd was deafening – it almost felt like the buildings were howling in victory.
"Harry?" Hermione put a hand on his dirty, sooty face.
"Snape died," Harry said. Something swelled inside him, and he was only dimly aware that tears were pouring down his face, and he looked down to see his blood dripping onto the dirty street.
He was so tired and he couldn't walk anymore and he wanted to be alone and he never wanted to be alone.
Dumbledore was in front of him, and then a soft light was around Harry, carrying him off to a quiet, dreamless sleep.