Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Death in All its Many Forms ❯ Chapter 4: The Final Countdown ( Chapter 4 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Draco had no choice; he had to return to the manor. It looked like he would be stuck in the forest for a long time, perhaps the rest of his tree-burdened life. He apparated into the formal entrance hall, where he was struck by the powerful smell of rotting Death-Eaters. He headed toward his parents’ room to get the various powerful, illegal magic items his father kept hidden in a secret compartment under the floor. Draco deactivated the various protection wards; fortunately no visitors had plundered the house yet.

He found the hand of glory, his father’s favorite cane, and his mother’s special perfume that was mildly hypnotic when she wanted it to be. He moved to his father’s study and pulled some of Lucius’ favorite books. He didn’t want to return with too much; he was afraid the Green Lady would object to dark magic in her forest, so he wanted to keep the magic signature low.

Draco was about to return to the forest when a small voice stopped him, “Draco, dear. Would you help your old aunt, please?”

He spun, reaching for his wand, and then he remembered that he couldn’t do much human magic anymore. Even his apparations were inhuman now; they were soundless and lacked the stomach problems apparition used to cause him. He didn’t see his aunt though. He just saw a scared house elf.

He bent to address her. “What are you doing here? I sent all of you away remember? I even gave you socks. Why do you want me to help Aunt Bella anyway? She was always mean to inhumans.”

The elf began to cry. “Draco, don’t you know me.?”

Draco was too astonished to answer for a moment. When he recovered his wits he stammered, “Aunt Bella? But how…”

She lifted a mop of hair and pointed to the black blotch on her forehead. “The family curse, I guess. Can’t you lift this? I promise I won’t try to hurt you again.”

“How could I possibly trust you?” Draco asked. He already knew he was powerless to help her, but he wanted to draw out this bizarre conversation. He owed her for what she had tried to do to his parents. This humiliation was a good start for revenge.

“If I tried to kill you again, I’d just get the curse again. That would keep me from doing you harm, right?” She looked at him anxiously, waiting for him to save or kill her. Either choice would work for her about now.

“I could…” He paused, as if he was thinking of a cure for her condition.

“Could what? Could what?” She danced about excitedly.

“Nah,” he said, and apparated soundlessly, leaving a stunned and bitter aunt behind. When he told the story to his parents that night, the whole family got a hearty laugh over her predicament.

“Ah,” his father sighed. “Good times.”

Draco knew his father was being sarcastic. The truth was the Malfoys were miserable. They were accustomed to comfort and respect - or at the very least fear. They were reduced to being the kept pets of a sentient tree spirit, which drove Narcissa to near distraction.

“Honestly Draco, do you ever think she’ll let us go? This isn’t living, and what she’s doing to you isn’t right. You’re all green and brown splotches now, and those twigs are growing leaves. It’s undignified.”

Draco let her rant. If she knew the extent to which he’d changed, she’d be even more horrified. He felt like his movements were slowing, and his mind was changing. He couldn’t have described it to his mother, but he could feel the change. Humans seemed odd to him, almost alien in nature. Even as he was moving away from humanity he was becoming more fey everyday. He was actually beginning to enjoy his time with the pixies, who had grown to love him.

What was most troubling were the hard protrusions growing on the bottom of his feet. Soon he wouldn’t be able to wear shoes anymore, because the irregular wood-like growths were cutting at the leather. He knew what was happening to his body; he was growing roots. He had a limited amount of time to kill Voldemort. Originally he had agreed to the Green Lady’s demands to save his skin, but he wanted to kill Voldemort for other reasons lately. Draco suspected he wouldn’t live long, or that he wouldn’t be human at any rate. He wanted his former master dead and unable to hurt his parents.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Harry woke up in the Hogwart’s medical wing and smirked. He had outsmarted everyone, especially the greasy git. Legally, duels begin the moment a contestant steps into the dueling arena and end when one contestant surrenders formally.

There had actually been two announcers who had met untimely deaths because the dueling wizards began throwing spells the moment they entered the ring. In both cases, courts had ruled against murder charges. Harry knew this would work in his favor.

He guessed he still retained his position at Hogwarts, since nowhere in his contract did it specifically state that dark magic couldn’t be used by teachers. The exact phrasing had been, “No teacher may use dark magic on school grounds or in front of students.” Students hadn’t been allowed at the duels. There had been a couple teachers who had openly advocated dark magic over the years; they weren’t encouraged, but they were tolerated to an extent.

Even though McGonagall hadn’t been able to fire him yet, he was sure she would only wait for his next slip-up to let him go. He had already made plans by the time Poppy noticed he was awake. During the heat of the battle, he had grabbed a small piece of blood-scorched wood from the stage on which Drakia had bled her acidic blood. Dragon blood just happened to be part of a very dark spell he’d been studying lately, ever since he began to suspect her true nature.

He smiled at the medi-witch. “Hey, good to be home again,” he said. No point in needlessly antagonizing her, right? The Gryffindor in him regretted his actions, and he wanted to make friends at the school again.

She glared at him and checked his wound silently, but she was less gentle than she might have been. When she was finished she made a few notes on his chart and left. Harry suspected he had lost a great many friends when he revealed his dark magic, but somehow he didn’t attach too much significance to most of them. He knew that his closest friends would stand by him, even through this. He trusted their friendship with all his soul. They kept him human.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Voldemort teleported into the forbidden forest. She had a wild look about her, and she headed resolutely toward the school.

“I’ll kill them all,” she shouted. She was so focused on her mission that she wasn’t even aware of the Green Lady’s approach until she was pierced from behind by a wooden spear sharpened from the Lady’s own arm. Voldemort began to struggle, but the unfamiliar poison was already spreading through her system. She didn’t recognize this magic, and the last thought she had as her spirit abandoned her current body was that she’d better do more damage with her next Horcrux.

Xxxxxxx

It only took Snape two days to heal himself with a potion he insisted on making himself. There was no way he was going to trust something as important as nerve damage to anyone else, even Drakia. She was a little put out by this, but a good flight around the castle calmed her nerves.

Severus kept his plans regarding Drakia private. Outwardly he pretended to accept her true nature, but he knew that he would have to distance himself from her enough that she would leave him. He loved her; he had finally admitted that to himself. Love had limits though, and not being human was one of them. He knew better than to anger an ancient dragon though. That would be sheer stupidity.

One of the things that bothered him the most about her was that he had missed all the clues that pointed directly to her true nature. Him – Head of Slytherin! He supposed he’d been distracted, a rare problem for him. She had been very distracting though.

Severus had made his choice; regardless of his mother’s meddling, his nature was Slytherin now. He had no problem giving in to the occasional uncharacteristic Gryffindor urges he felt after Drakia’s healing, but that didn’t stop him from using the skills he had painfully acquired from years of living as a spy. He was what he chose to be.

His plan was to postpone the wedding and immerse himself in his work, frustrating and alienating her. At the same time he would avoid fights and take the “high road” at every offense she found in him. Eventually he planned to introduce her to a powerful wizard who was her type, and invite the unfortunate stranger for drinks. He would then sneak a love potion into their drinks right before remembering an urgent engagement elsewhere. Then he just had to let nature take its course. It was a cynical plan, but he felt like she deserved it for deceiving him. She had lost his trust forever.

Xxxxx

The next Order meeting was predictably Harry-less. It was somber and had a funereal atmosphere. McGonagall called the meeting to order.

“I think we all know why we’re here. We have to decide what to do about Harry.”

Mad Eye’s eye roamed around the room, judging and evaluating the members. “What’s to decide? We can’t have a Dark Wizard in the Order.”

“True,” she said, “but if we just kick him out there’s the possibility of facing two Dark Lords. We couldn’t possibly fight them both at once.”

Lupin gasped, “surely you don’t mean to keep him after what he did. I looked those spells up in the library. One of them required him to kill a thestral with his own hands.” He shuddered. “I don’t even want to talk about what another curse he used required. How is he not in Azkaban?”

McGonagall had asked this question a few times herself. “The idiots who make the rules have decided that since he constrained dark magic to dueling and fighting Voldemort he is excused from the consequences usually applied to dark wizards. They formally censured him, and then they let it go. If he uses dark magic again they may lock him up, but I really think they’re scared of him.”

Mad Eye spoke up. “You know says he plans to go after She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named by himself”. Ron dropped his eyes and shook a bit at the memory of Ginny attacking her friends. Her Death-Eater mask had dropped near the end of the battle, so he couldn’t pretend not to believe.

Mad Eye continued, “Potter says he has some plan cooked up that can’t fail. He won’t tell me anything about it though, and he’s got some powerful anti-intrusion wards set up around his room.”

Lupin asked why Mad Eye couldn’t break the wards. Surely he’d faced tougher spells in his time?

“I could,” Mad Eye said, “but if I did he’d probably suspect us immediately. We can’t risk making an enemy of him right now.”

Hermoine was furious. “What is this? Are we honestly plotting against Harry now? This is wrong, and so…,” she searched for the right word. “un-Gryffindor.” She crossed her arms and sat down.

Lupin was in the corner. It was near the new moon and he was slightly bothered by the proximity of so many humans. “What would you suggest we do then? We can’t ally ourselves with a Dark Wizard. He’s against the light now, which means he’s against the Order and everything we stand against.”

Hermoine wasn’t done yet. “He’s against everything you stand against. He still stands against Her, and he still protects Hogwarts. As long as he does that, he has my wand by his side.”

McGonagall was stunned. “You’d stand by a Dark Wizard?” She couldn’t believe this conversation was even taking place.

Hermoine broke down in tears. This was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. Ron put his arms around her and just comforted her for a moment, oblivious to the uncomfortable atmosphere building up in the room.

She sniffled. “No, we won’t stand by a Dark Wizard. We’ll stand by our friend. And we’ll show him how damaging the dark magic is to him.”

McGonagall looked into Ron’s puffy, worn-out eyes and was tempted to reverse her position. She desperately wanted to bring Harry back from the pit he was racing toward, but she knew her duty.

“You can’t stand with him and us at the same time, Ronald,” she said sadly.

“I stand against Voldemort.” He spoke the name deliberately. “Harry’s not a Dark Wizard. You’ll see. He just made some mistakes; Dumbledore had faith in him and so do I. I won’t abandon him unless he hurts an innocent again. I just lost Ginny to Voldemort; I won’t let him ruin Harry too.”

“You’re just going to let him get away with what he did to that thestral?” Lupin asked. His eyes glowed with a dangerous animal light. “I’ll bet if it had been a human Harry killed you’d feel differently.” He had been more sensitive about non-human rights recently.

“Oh, he won’t be getting away with it; believe me. By the time I’m done with him he’ll wish he’d never discovered dark magic. I said I’d stand by him. I never said he wouldn’t get a good pounding.”

Xxxxxxxxx

They weren’t able to connect with Harry anytime soon. They both had their own lives and schedules, and every time they tried to contact him, he was unavailable. They would have suspected him of avoiding them, but he sent them occasional owls. The letters mostly described his classes, but he would often refer to a “plan” to get rid of Voldemort. He never did give them any clues as to what he was planning.

Harry knew he was working against time. He was glad now that Snape had worked him so hard in potions class; he was about to end the Dark Lord. This time the potion would work because it wasn’t actually meant for Voldemort. Harry believed he had found a way to make himself exponentially stronger. There would be sacrifices of course, but Harry knew that power required sacrifice.

He was touched by Ron and Hermoine’s refusal to shun him as the other Order members had obviously done. Lupin and McGonagall were forced to deal with him professionally, but the Headmistress managed to make her disapproval felt with every interaction they shared. Lupin was barely polite, and near the full moon he would just snarl and turn his back on Harry. The other teachers treated him with a fearful distance that he disliked immensely.

Drakia openly glared at him when she met him, and said, “someday, Potter. Someday we will meet outside the school. Then you die.”

Harry knew why Ron and Hermoine were trying to reach him. They were Gryffindors after all. He was sure they wanted to confront him about his dark magic use. He had already decided what he wanted to tell the when the time came. He was sick of it, and after this one last dark act he planned on renouncing his newfound skills forever and only using light magic from that point on. The problem was, the potion he was using was so dark even Ron and Hermoine would probably never talk to him again if they knew about it.

Harry had to avoid them until he finished the potion. He’d never been good at fooling Hermoine, and he didn’t feel like this was a good time to try. Once he was finished he could contact them, and even if they found out what he’d done he could honestly say he was done with foul deeds. He couldn’t possibly hope to be the forthright Gryffindor he had once been, but he could attempt to regain some measure of his honor by killing Voldemort.

Harry took the blood-soaked wood and lowered it into the boiling cauldron using fireproof tongs. He had also placed inside the cauldron a phoenix feather that Fawkes had given him years ago, along with a drop of mercury and the hoof of the thestral he had killed. The feather would help him have immense healing powers, the mercury would give him a massive speed boost, and the hoof would give him the stamina of the thestral. Mercury was a dangerous element in any potion, and would shorten his life immensely, but he didn’t really care. He had one goal – end Voldemort. Nothing else mattered in the end.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Hagrid watched the tree-like humanoid moving sluggishly onto the Hogwarts grounds. He couldn’t place the creature, which bothered him. Hadrid knew most creatures in the forbidden forest, or at least in the part near the school. The figure stopped a few yards into the school grounds and stood there, swaying.
Hagrid approached cautiously. Its head was down, and it seemed to be sleeping. The wind moved its branches slightly, and silver flowers dropped a few petals onto the grass.

“Errr hmmm…” Hagrid cleared his throat. No response.

“Um, hey. Tree-man. I don’t think you should be here. You know the rules. We stay on our side, and you stay on yours.” He waited, but no response. “Are you wounded? We can help you.”

He reached out and pushed the tree-man’s shoulder gently – well, gently for him.

“Huh?” the tree said, still drowsy. “Hey, Hagrid. Long time no see.” He tried to sound cheery, but his voice was deep and slurred. He was so tired.

“Draco?” Hagrid asked. “What happened to you?” His dislike for the boy was bested by his honest good nature, and he wanted to help him.

“Green Lady took me. She made me her negotiator. I need to talk to McGonagall.” Draco yawned. “I’ll wait here.”

McGonagall felt a deep pity for the boy. He was so bright; he might have amounted to something. Here he was though, turning into what seemed to be a forest creature.
“Why did you call me?” McGonagall asked.

He was slow in responding. “The Green Lady wants you to know that she killed one of She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s incarnations.”

“She? So you knew about Ginny?”

Draco chuckled, a deep resounding sound. This leaves trembled when he laughed. McGonagall was troubled at his sheer unhuman-ness. “He took Ginny Weasley for a horcrux when he messed with her years ago. I saw him take her physically not long ago.”

She was torn between horror and anger. The pity she had felt for Draco dissolved in a haze of anger. “You knew this and didn’t do anything about it? You little snake!” She wanted to draw her wand, but she wasn’t about to attack a spokesman for someone even the centaurs feared.

“I didn’t know until Voldemort took physical form. Nothing to do about it; it was too late for her years ago.”

McGonagall felt herself tearing up, and forced herself not to cry. Grief would have to wait until later. “What else did you need to tell me?” She wanted this over with.

“Green Lady killed She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named by impaling her on a spear she made from her own arm. “ He paused for breath, and McGonagall wanted to shake him. He was so bloody useless!

“The Green Lady said She was vulnerable to poison. She felt it when she was poisoning Ginny.” He saw McGonagall cringe and smiled. Draco had never thought of Voldemort as Ginny – not after the first night anyway. He knew it would bother McGonagall to think of Ginny as Voldemort’s body though, and that pleased him.

“Get to the point, Draco,” she hissed.

“That’s it. She’s vulnerable to poison.” He held out a small vial made of hardened clay with some sort of unfired glaze to protect the inside from its contents.

“What’s this then?” McGonagall eyed the vial suspiciously.

“It’s the poison used to kill Ginny. The Green Lady thinks it could be useful again. She wants you to use it.”

He turned without a parting farewell, and wandered back into the forest. The exchange had worn him out, and all he wanted to do was find a nice stream to nap by. He knew he wouldn’t wake up even remotely human, but he was past caring about such things. He had his last small revenge against the Headmistress with his remarks about Ginny, and he was content to let nature claim him.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Harry didn’t have any faith in some poison supplied by a fey creature. He kept working on his potion every available minute, avoiding Ron and Hermoine in the meantime. It wasn’t easy, but he continued to give them the slip even as they became more assertive in their attempts to reach him.

The potion took a month and a half to finish. Harry stood in his room looking at the nasty brown liquid bubbling in the flask. “I’m really sorry Drakia, but it has to be this way,” he said before drinking the nasty stuff.

He was sick for a few hours, but then he began to feel the effects of the potion. It wasn’t much yet, just a feeling of strength in his muscles – just a bit. It was a time-release potion, and it would take several months to reach its full strength. It was just his luck that Drakia wouldn’t know who was sucking away her life-force.

Xxxx

Drakia was having dinner with Lupin and Tonks in the local pub; Lupin had gotten over his distrust when she came out as a dragon. No need to fear what was out in the open, he supposed. They were enjoying Tonks’ usual antics when Drakia felt nauseous. It wasn’t enough to mention – just a bit of sour stomach that passed in a few minutes.

It came back the next day though, and it returned with more strength. She took an antacid and made it through her classes. She wished for the thousandth time that Severus was around. He’d been different since the fight. He was polite but distant. She didn’t know if things would ever be the same between them.

When she saw the report in the Daily Prophet that Voldemort had been resurrected and then quickly killed after taking the body of a young reporter that worked for the Prophet itself, she wondered if he was getting better at incarnating himself but worse at surviving. The Prophet reported that the new Voldemort had seemed confused and angry. He had attacked furiously but in a clumsy manner, and he was quickly killed by a few wandering wizards.

McGonagall brought up the article at the next Order meeting. “What do you think? Is it just an instance of a bad incarnation?”

“Perhaps,” Mad Eye said. “It’s also possible that he’s getting senile. No one in known history has ever split a soul so many times. Or, Dumbledore’s potion may have had more of an effect than we thought. That Green Tart did say there was magic interfering with his healing abilities when she poisoned him.”

“Then Harry might have been right,” McGonagall said. “We might do better to keep killing him until he runs out of horcruxes.”

Xxxx

Snape had finally picked his victim for Drakia. Even though he was about to foist her off on another man, he had chosen carefully. After getting over the fact that she lied to him about something so important, he didn’t have any bad feelings toward her. He actually cared about her, so he had chosen one of the older Weasley boys for her. Charlie Weasley was intimately acquainted with dragons, and Snape was sure he would treat her well. As much as he disliked the fast-breeding Weasly clan, he knew she would be happy with them.

He returned to his rooms with a triumphant feeling. If all went well, he would at least be able to keep her as a valuable ally. He would play the understanding lover and pass her off to the man who would hopefully be able to handle being married to a dragon. Not that he’d have much choice. The potion Snape was making was strong and long lasting. It was also incredibly illegal.

He went to visit Drakia in her quarters, but she didn’t answer the door. He saw a light under the door, so he knew she was there. She was very conscious about leaving lights on when she was out. He knocked louder and heard shuffling.

She unlocked the door and blinked against the light. “What? I was sleeping.”

It wasn’t that late, and he noticed that she had bags under her eyes. “I’ll come back later then. Should I bring a potion with me? You’ve looked better.”

“Not a nice thing to tell a lady,” she grumbled, “but yes, I could use a potion. I feel run down and I’ve got muscle aches all over. I don’t want to go to the medical-wing unless I have to though. It’s embarrassing.”

Xxxxxx

Months passed like this. Harry became stronger as the potion drained Drakia, and Snape gave up his idea of Charlie Weasley as he watched her grow weaker. She eventually gave in and went to the medical ward, but Poppy couldn’t do anything for her. Finally, she resigned her teaching position and made her way out to the forbidden forest. Snape walked her to the edge of the forest silently. He regretted ever meeting her as much as he regretted the impossibility of them ever being together. He was a practical man though, and her departure was best for him. He was losing an ally, but he was also losing a potential destructive enemy. If the love potion hadn’t worked he would have been forced to break up with her, which could have very possibly ended up with deep fried Snape. He tried to avoid situations like that.

They stood at the edge of the forest, and he watched her sway in the breeze. “I have to go now,” she said.

“I know,” he replied, unsure of what to say.

“I think I’ll feel better among the forest creatures. I never did like being surrounded by so many humans.”

She kissed him goodbye and left. As he walked back he was surprised to find that the prevailing emotion he felt was not the sense of freedom he would have expected. He felt a deep sense of loss, but he couldn’t have possibly stayed with her.

She died a few weeks later, although no one but Harry knew. He felt his own strength and magic stop increasing, and he knew the source had died. He felt guilty, but he shoved that feeling aside. He had made his decision and he needed to stick with it. He contacted Ron and Hermoine and made arrangements to meet with them the next Saturday at Hogwarts. It was time to leave this disgusting mess behind.

Voldemort’s returns became more frequent, and with every incarnation he was noticeably weaker and less in control of his mind. He was still dangerous; he always managed to kill at least one person, and once he had laid waste to the Bertie Botts factory before he was killed. The Order calculated that he had only one horcrux left. All they had to do was kill him once more and then they could settle into a post-Voldemort world.

Harry worked harder and harder at learning to use his newfound strength and magic. Much of Drakia’s magic was completely useless to humans, but he found that if he concentrated on the knowledge granted him he learned magic theories and practical applications he’d never considered before.

After Ron hit him in the jaw and Hermoine chewed him out for an hour, he made up with Ron and Hermoine. He had to say he’d avoid using dark magic again, but he hid the extent of his involvement with the dark arts from them. Lying to them was easier than he had expected it to be. Harry was having dinner with them when he unexpectedly felt a sense of disconnect from them.

“So what do you think Harry?” Hermoine asked.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts. “Huh? Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

“Honestly,” she huffed. “It’s like you’re not really here half the time.”

He wasn’t truly there half the time. He was beginning to feel the negative effects of the mercury, and estimated he had five years left to live. Some of that would probably be spent with brain damage. He was constantly bothered by what he had done to Drakia. Even with the potion he had to train the secrets he had learned from her. The thestral didn’t bother him so much; it had been mortally wounded when he had found the beast anyway. He didn’t like to think about the fact that he would have killed the first thestral he crossed paths with – healthy or not.

“Harry!” Hermoine rapped his knuckles with a fork.

“Ow,” he said, rubbing his hand. “What was that for?”

“Pay attention! Ron wants Gryffindor colors for the wedding. I think it’s bad luck to have bright red at a wedding. What do you think?”

“Um… why don’t you compromise?” Honestly. How could they think this was important?

“Yes! Light red!” Hermoine clapped happily.

Ron looked upset. “Hermoine, they have a name for light red. It’s called pink.”

An argument commenced about the difference between light red and pink. Harry hated this lunch date right now. He knew those two had faced as many difficulties and horrorific circumstances as he had dealt with, at least in his adult life. And yet, they had a positive attitude. He would never escape the consequences of his actions, and he envied them their happiness. He didn’t dare let his jealousy show though. They were the only real friends he had left, and he would do almost anything to keep them. Without them he would forget what it meant to be human, and he would probably end up just like Voldemort.

He would never have the life they led though. They had made choices in the face of evil that kept them innocent in a way. Harry was haunted by Drakia every time he used her magic, and he was haunted by Dumbledore every whenever he failed the old man. None of it mattered though; he would fulfill his destiny.

He knew that Voldemort was growing weaker, and there had been no real reason to kill Drakia. That was the worst of it. Her death had probably been meaningless. Still though, he wanted to kill Voldemort’s final incarnation himself. He just hoped someone else didn’t beat him to it.

Snape missed Drakia, but not enough to really disrupt his life. He was patiently waiting for the next semester; he was sure Harry would be replaced after the stunts he’d pulled. He would be right there when the time came. Surely McGonagall couldn’t refuse him the position after all he’d done for the school and the wizarding world in general. One thing remained to seal the deal; he wanted to be the one to kill Voldemort.

He could foresee a possible impediment to his plan. He wondered if Voldemort was saving his best horcrux for last. That would be just like the Dark Lord; he had an absolute compulsion to hide things. If he was saving the best for last there could be problems. He could only hope the current trend continued.

Xxxx

They both got their chance a couple of months later. Severus was teaching second year potions when a student rushed into his class. “Professor Snape,” he said excitedly, “Voldemort is in Hogsmeade. Everyone cleared out, but he’s threatening to head over here and kill everyone!”

“And how exactly do you know what is going on in Hogsmeade in the middle of a school-day?” Snape asked calmly.

He didn’t answer. Snape closed his book, wrote an assignment on the board that made every student groan for its severity, and left the castle. He met some of the other teachers outside heading towards the closest apparition point outside the castle. They walked silently beside each other, and when they were able to apparate they did so.

Hogsmeade was silent, something Harry had never seen. Severus was old enough to have seen a quiet Hogsmeade once, but he had been one of the Death-Eaters besieging the place at the time. It was obvious where the disturbance was coming from, because they could hear shouting coming from the south. Harry and Snape rushed to Madam Murry’s Magic Muffin’s. A group of aurors stood outside the store, waiting for Voldemort to make his move.

Voldemort was yelling curses in a voice that sounded somehow small and viscous at the same time. Everyone waited in suspense for him to show himself.

Mad Eye was the first to speak. “Anyone have any info on his current form?”

Saminal Sundry, one of the new aurors spoke up. “It all happened so fast the witnesses were gone before we got here. We learned from a second hand witness about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s arrival. He heard people yelling that He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named was in the muffin shop. He ran to the auror station, but he never actually saw the old wizard himself.”

Harry didn’t like the sound of this. “So we don’t even know for sure it’s Voldemort in here?”

Most of the aurors cringed at his name, and Harry just rolled his eyes. “For crying out loud people! He’s not nearly as powerful as he used to be. I think we can finally say his name out loud.”

“That’s what you think, Potter!” he heard shrieked from a window.

He saw a head appear over the window, and Voldemort yelled, “Avada Kedava.” A bright light shot out of the window and hit Mad Eye in the chest. Everyone gasped, horrified by the old auror’s fate. Mad Eye was knocked backward, but he kept his feet. He looked in astonishment at a foot wide burn on his chest. It didn’t even hurt much. He patted his smoldering shirt and looked in wonder at the muffin shop.

Voldemort leaped out of the window and landed on the pavement, wand in hand. He glared at Mad Eye. The aurors were all shocked at Voldemort’s new form, a badly deformed midget.

“What the hell?” Voldemort screeched. “My spell didn’t work! What the bloody-thestral humping, house elf, crotch crabs hell?”

Everyone burst out laughing. They just couldn’t help it. He was once arguably the most powerful mage in the world, and now he was reduced to a disfigured shell of himself.

When Tonks could straighten up, she wiped the tears from her eyes and calmed herself enough to talk. “What happened, Voldemort? You run out of horcrux victims? Seriously, this is sad.”

Snickers surrounded them. Voldemort shook with fury. “I had some problems. This was supposed to be the best one yet – a twenty foot tall giant with green skin. Obviously something didn’t work right.”

Full blown laughter surrounded them again. “You would have wet your pants with fear!” Voldemort screeched, and launched himself at Harry physically. Harry was too busy laughing to notice the pint-sized wizard barreling toward him. Voldemort had lost none of his speed, and the next thing Harry knew everything had gone black around him as the hood of his robe was pulled over his head. Teeth bit into his arm, and small fists pulled his hair viscously. Voldemort was like a rabid monkey.

“Get him off!” Harry screamed. “Get him off!” He swung around blindly, but Voldemort was solidly attached and wasn’t letting go. He heard more laughing, and he hoped one of the aurors could pull himself together enough to rescue him from the tiny demon.

“Off you go,” Tonks yelled, pulling the wizard off Harry and throwing Voldemort aside. Harry heard the crunch that only breaking bone makes, and then he heard aurors cheering. He pulled his robe down and couldn’t believe he was actually seeing the scene before him. Voldemort lay at the bottom of the wall, slouched and pale. His head was cracked open and his brains garishly decorated the wall and pavement.

Everyone trained their wands on Voldemort while Mad Eye went to check on him. He checked his pulse and said, “Yep, he’s dead. Just to be sure though…”

He used Voldemort’s wand to poke around inside the massive crack in his skull. “There,” he said. “That settles it. He’s dead.”

They removed the body and people went about their business. Harry returned to the school, but instead of returning to his classroom he went to his quarters. His dazed mind only registered one simple yet soul-destroying fact. All of the dark magic he had wrecked his soul to learn had been pointless. Tonks had killed Voldemort without using a single spell.

As Snape expected, Harry was not offered a contract renewal, but the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher went to Tonks. He fumed about this to McGonagall, but she wouldn’t budge.

Harry was never the same again. He took a job at the same school that Snape’s sister taught at, but his heart just wasn’t in it after the battle. He took to drinking and lost his job. The last anyone ever heard from him was a sighting in France. Ron and Hermoine had finally decided on Paris as their honeymoon spot, and they found
Harry hitchhiking. He had a beard and didn’t smell well.

They picked him up and drove him out of the city. “Harry,” Hermoine asked, “what are you doing out here? Everyone’s worried about you.”

“By everyone I assume you mean you and Ron.” Harry said.

“That’s not true mate,” Ron said sadly. “You have friends.”

“What are you doing out here?” Hermoine asked. She didn’t like when people ignored her questions.

“Looking for redemption,” he said as he opened the car door. “but I don’t think I’ll find it.” He walked away, and they never saw him again.