Chapter 13
Inside the Three Broomsticks, the scent of cinnamon and butterbeer hung warmly in the air. It was a fairly busy Saturday in Hogsmeade, and a group of villagers near the hearth was speaking in low voices.
Harry and Hermione sat so close together in a booth that she was practically on his lap. Harry's tension was unrelenting, but Hermione knew he had a reason for it — there was only one confrontation left for him — facing Voldemort.
When Harry spoke to her, he displayed utmost confidence that he'd win over Voldemort, but she knew from his excessive planning and making back-up plans for their back-ups that he was worried.
Around them was their whole gang: Draco, Luna, Theo, and Padma. Knowledge and dread lingered in each of their eyes as they met gazes.
Harry stretched one arm along the backrest behind Hermione, and his fingers drifted caressingly along her shoulder. She shivered under his touch, giving him a brief sideways smile.
The server brought them warm butterbeer, the glasses tinkling as they were set down.
Theo broke the silence first. "Well, only one battle left then." He said, staring into his drink. Next to him, Padma bit her lip.
"We just have to set the terms on how this ends," Draco said quietly, his eyes flickering to Harry briefly. "Use our collateral."
Harry's fingers never ceased stroking Hermione as he looked at Draco thoughtfully. "I want to avoid a full-scale internal war. If I can manage to get him to fight me alone—"
All three girls frowned. Hermione looked at Harry. "You're not fighting him alone." She said firmly.
Harry's jaw ticked. "It would be best—"
Luna interrupted, her blue eyes bright. "If I were he who must not be named, I'd want to throw you off balance and face you alone. Because if you're just reacting, you're not thinking clearly."
BOOM.
The front windows of the three broomsticks exploded inward. Glass and splintered wood flew through the air. Harry shoved Hermione down, throwing himself over as another explosion rocked through the pub, flipping their booth onto its side. Screams erupted. Witches and wizards scrambled for the doors, desperate to reach open ground and Apparate. Pandemonium swallowed the room.
"Death Eaters!" Padma shouted. Her wand whipped upward. "Protego!" Her shield popped into place just as a cutting curse arrowed in at her. Next to her lay Luna and Theo on the floor, knocked out by the initial blast.
Harry leapt to his feet. "Bombarda!" The explosions cracked from his wand, exploding in the air and forcing the Death Eaters back as their own shields popped into place to shield them. Behind him, he felt Hermione get to her feet.
"Hermione—" Harry began. They were surrounded, and he needed herout.
"Ventus tria!" She screamed. Three spiraling tunnels of wind burst from her wand, slamming into three Death Eaters and hurling them across the room like rag dolls.
Multiple blasting curses came at them at once, and four protegos popped up to block them. Draco stood shakily slightly behind Padma, blood dripping down his forehead. The building groaned under the assault, beams cracking. Harry felt the anti-Apparition wards of the pub tear apart like a blade dragged through his magic as the building shuddered.
"Apparate out!" He roared at them as spells flew through the air. "Sectumsempra!" He caught one of the Death Eaters off guard, and deep gashes opened across his chest as he flew backward and stayed down.
"But Luna and Theo—" Padma started, only for the crack of apparition to cut through her words.
Harry deflected a disarming spell that came at him, the hairs on the back of his neck lifting as he whirled around, leaving his back exposed. But he was too late. Antonin Dolohov appeared directly behind Hermione and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt. Harry saw the silver chain around her neck break in Dolohov's grip.
Fuck.
Hermione's eyes met Harry's for a frozen moment in time. Her brown eyes were wide with shock and apology as she looked at him. It gutted him.
Dolohov didn't pause, his other hand coming up swiftly to press his wand against Hermione's neck. "Stupefy."
Hermione sagged in Dolohov's hold. The silver lightning pendant hit the ground soundlessly, but Harry felt like he heard it in his bones. The one safeguard he counted on to keep Hermione safe was useless now.
Rage exploded like a bomb inside him.
Debris blasted outward from Harry as if the air itself recoiled. "Get your bloody hands off her, Dolohov!" he roared, magic surging wild and violent. "Don't you touch her!"
Dolohov grinned maliciously, adjusting his hold so he was holding her up by one hand around her throat while the other dug his wand into her exposed skin. "You mean like this?"
"I'm going to kill you," Harry promised Dolohov viciously.
His blood ran cold even as his pulse pounded wildly out of rhythm. There was no opening that he could take advantage of to save Hermione. Harry forced himself into razor-sharp focus, scanning for the slightest opening to save Hermione. His heartbeat roared in his ears, urging him to abandon caution, to forget strategy and simply attack.
Just attack,his heart pounded the syllables out against his rib cage.
Bitterness welled as Harry recognized the fear in his heart— it had been so long since he'd felt fear that he had no fucking control over it now.
"I'm going make your insides boil until you burst," Harry promised Dolohov.
"I feel so special." Dolohov's scarred face was practically gleeful. "But I'm not too worried about your threats, boy. You have some other people to deal with first."
More Death Eaters entered the pub, although they could hear fighting happening in the streets, so someone out there was still putting up resistance. Harry, Draco, and Padma were trapped — not so much by the Death Eaters themselves but because of the unconscious Hermione, Theo, and Luna.
Dolohov glanced outside, a slight frown passing his face as he noticed his Death Eaters were still encountering resistance there, but then he gave a wolfish smile to Harry. "The dark lord sends his regards. He can see that you wanted his attention; now you have it."
Harry's heart was slowly beating up all his internal organs in hard, painful thuds. He hung on to his control by his fingernails, his chest moving in slow, measured breaths as he stared at the dead man holding Hermione. His lungs burned beneath his iron control, trying to rebel and steal his breath. Everything was wrong— all his planning — everything he'd tried to do to keep her safe, and now Dolohov had his filthy hands on Hermione. "You need to get your hands off her." Harry's hands flexed as if he could pry them off himself.
"Oh no." Dolohov laughed. "That's kind of what I'm here for— and to extend an invitation." He tightened his hand around her throat, and Hermione made a choking sound.
"Dolohov—" Harry stepped forward, his heart still screaming for the attack, and Dolohov pressed his wand harder into her skin in reaction.
"We're waiting, Potter." Dolohov continued a bit faster— the battle outside was growing closer. "You know where to come. " Then he turned to spy on Draco near Luna. "Oh, and Draco— you might want to hurry, too."
Draco went deathly still.
Dolohov, observing the reaction, grinned. "Your daddy never was good at resisting the imperious. The dark lord is eager to test your parents again — you shouldn't miss it — it will be such a big family party." His tone dripped with violence. "Before he kills all you miserable little maggots."
Harry's magic surged inside him; it felt like his skin was going to split. He'd kill Dolohov. Rip him apart. The boards underneath his feet creaked and groaned as his magic leaked from him like a sieve, restless and wrathful.
Dolohov grinned at Harry tauntingly, then there was a crack in the air, and both Dolohov and Hermione vanished. More cracks split the air as the rest of the Death Eaters still standing vanished.
"What do we do?" Padma asked in a shaky voice as she knelt by Theo and Luna.
Harry didn't respond to her question. He felt like time had stopped as he stood staring at the spot where Hermione had just been. The fact that Dolohov had his dirty hands on her was cracking his chest open. His heart was shredding the inside of his chest as if to escape and follow her immediately.
Harry knew Dolohov was taking her to the Lestrange Estate, where Voldemort and his Death Eaters waited. And they were counting on him and Draco being so emotionally compromised that they just apparated into their trap. Hermione's life depended on him not following into a battle he couldn't win. He needed something to turn the tide in his favor; he needed to rescue Hermione.
Harry knelt down and picked up the silver chain that Dolohov had so carelessly snapped, his fist clenching around the portkey. His eyes burned as he knelt there wrestling with the irrationality that wanted him to go to the Lestrange Estate regardless of the odds against him. A groan echoed in the far side of the pub, and Harry glanced to see that the Death Eater that he'd brought down with sectumsempra was still alive.
Harry got to his feet and slowly walked over to the wounded Death Eater. As soon as the wizard saw Harry, he started pleading for his life.
"Avada Kedavra," Harry said viciously, but killing the Death Eater assuaged none of the rage in his body. His skin felt too tight over his bones, like he was going to shrivel into nothing without her. He shuddered at the image of Dolohov's hands at her throat. He clenched his hands into fists and bowed his head.
Harry's fist shook as he tried to control his raging heart. He took a deep breath, burying the fire. He couldn't make any mistakes. He couldn't rush in with a hot head. He breathed in again, feeling the chill in the air spreading through his body. His heart turned to stone. His mind quieted, and his thoughts centered.
Voldemort was ready and expecting him. He needed a distraction. One big enough for Voldemort to be completely off balance. One person would do that to Voldemort.
Dumbledore.
How would he get Dumbledore to the Lestrange Estate?
The beginnings of a plan took shape in his mind, and Harry knew what he had to do. Time to close some more doors.
"I'm going to end a war," Harry told Padma, finally answering her question.
Draco wiped a shaky hand across his mouth. "How are we going to do that? If we just show up, they'll just overwhelm us and torture us to death." He grimaced, giving Harry a look. "Well, they'll torture me to death at least."
Padma glanced at them worriedly but focused on rousing Theo and Luna, who were just starting to blink their eyes and move.
Harry's eyes were like emerald shards, gleaming and sharp. "We're getting a distraction — thenwe'rekilling them all."
"Dumbledore has the Elder Wand?" Pike Carrow asked almost in a whisper as he looked around the Slytherin common room to see if anyone else had overheard. "I know he has two wands, but you're telling me the other one is the Elder Wand?"
It was all Harry could do not to crack Pike's head open. Why would he lie about that?
Don't kill allies. That's bad.
Harry inhaled slowly, trying to push down the rage that still boiled too close to the surface. "Yes. And I need you to get Alecto and Amycus to attack now to try to get the elder wand from Dumbledore." He said, naming Carrow's aunt and uncle.
"Attack Hogwarts?" Pike asked incredulously. "Even they aren't that stupid—"
"We're going to draw a group of students out of the castle. Amycus and Alecto just have to wait until they see the crowd approaching the dark forest. The Gryffindors will be fodder to draw out Dumbledore."
Harry felt Draco's sharp glance, but he had the good sense to keep quiet. Yes, he was sacrificing Gyffindors. No, he didn't care.
Still, Pike hesitated. "Even the dark lord steps lightly around Dumbledore. Amycus and Alecto— "
Harry stepped forward, his hands fisting at his sides so he didn't grab Pike by the hair. "Then you'd better be persuasive, hadn't you? I want them here in the next thirty minutes, Carrow." Harry said his voice was razor sharp.
Pike froze for a moment, his black eyes watching Harry like a larger, more threatening predator. Understanding slowly seeped into his face as he looked from Harry to Draco, then back again. He grimaced. "He got her, didn't he? The dark lord has Granger."
Harry said nothing, his green eyes dark. Finally, Pike looked away. "Fine, Potter, but I can't guarantee their actions or who they'll target. They're pretty opportunistic."
"Good," Harry replied. "The more chaos, the better — the more dead the better. I need Dumbledore completely destabilized and not thinking properly."
Pike looked at Harry with a gleam of fear in his eyes. "I'm not responsible if anything goes wrong."
"Just get them here." Harry's lips tightened. "I'll handle the rest."
Draco and Harry watched Pike walk off towards the owlery. "Do you think Dumbledore will kill them?"
Harry shook his head. "That's his weakness— he won't execute them — he never does."
"How are we going to draw the Gryffindors out for the Carrows to attack?"
"I'm going to kidnap one in front of them."
"What?" Draco, who'd already heard Harry was going to use Gryffindors like cannon fodder, managed to look even more shocked.
"Ginevra Weasley. Their seeker. We're going to take her to the dark forest." Harry said calmly as if he was discussing the weather.
"Where—"
"It's Saturday. It's the Gryffindors turn to practice at the pitch. I'm going to go start a fight." Harry looked toward Draco. "I need you to gather the rest of Slytherin and lead them toward the practice area in the Dark Forest — tell them to maim rather than kill, try to leave the killing to the Death Eaters…. But if accidents happen, they happen. Make sure our people are protected."
Draco nodded, and Harry left him to it. He exited the Slytherin common room and found Padma and Luna waiting for him, along with a mildly disturbed Theo.
Padma stepped forward aggressively. "Hermione is my friend, and I'm coming with you to rescue her."
Harry stopped walking and spun on his heel to face her. "No."
"You don't get to tell me what to do." Padma's chin lifted.
"Padma, I really don't think—" Theo said soothingly behind her.
"Yes," Harry said flatly. "I do. Hermione wouldn't want you harmed, so you are staying out of the line of fire."
Luna stepped forward, gasping Padma's elbow, her eyes fixed on Harry. "Padma perhaps—"
"You are not in charge of me!" Padma challenged. Her tone echoed Hermione's, and Harry couldn't abide it.
"I'm sorry." Harry apologized, and Padma's eyes widened as she realized a split second beforehand what he was going to do.
"No, " She protested, but Harry slashed his wand downward, and his knockout jinx shoved Padma back into Theo's arms.
Then Harry turned to Luna. "I can't have you risking your life."
Luna's hands slowly rose in the air. "Remember who your allies are, Harry Potter." She said softly.
"I don't have time for this," Harry said, looking toward Theo. "Keep them safe."
"I will," Theo promised, swinging Padma into his arms.
"I'm sorry," Harry murmured to them again as he turned away to start walking to the Quidditch pitch. He was fighting a war, and he wasn't about to explain to Hermione he'd let her friends die on the battlefield when he got her back.
The Gryffindors followed his plans to the letter — if he'd not been worried out of his mind about Hermione, Harry would have laughed at how easy it was. He'd come onto the Quidditch pitch and imperiused Ginevra Weasley, who had then fought to help him during her own kidnapping, while some of her team hesitantly fought for her and others ran to get Dumbledore.
Ginevra moved next to him easily as they ran toward the dark forest, ducking the incoming spells. He could hear Ron Weasley screaming hysterically behind him, but couldn't enjoy that either.
Fucking bastard.
Draco came through, and the Slytherins were already there waiting, milling amongst the Death Eaters that Alecto and Amycus had managed to gather. They were mere meters away when Dumbledore apparated into the middle of the crowd with a deafening crack.
Dumbledore had always been one for a grand entrance, and his cherry red robes with bright gold trim made him an impressive target for the Carrows. His eyes widened when he took in the chaotic scene in the dark forest.
Harry gave a feral grin at Dumbledore's look of astonishment.
Dumbledore switched wands, pulling out the Elder Wand liquid-fast, as he began binding students to stop them from fighting. The Elder Wand flashed through the air as Dumbledore fought with decades of experience, students falling before him in droves while Death Eaters flung spells at him. It really was impressive, Harry thought, watching his style.
Alecto and Amycus Carrow crowed in delight as soon as they spotted the Elder Wand in Dumbledore's hand. They screamed at the Death Eaters they brought to flank him, the twins going hard at Dumbledore like two dogs after a bone.
On the other end of the clearing, McGonagall and Snape apparated in back to back, their wands out and ready. McGonagall spotted Ginevra next to him immediately, bristling at her student being under the imperious.
"Mr. Potter," She shouted with a sonorous charm amplifying her voice over the battlefield, "Release Miss Weasley at once! This ends now! Everyone back to Hogwarts!"
At the sharp authority in her voice, some Gryffindors peeled off back toward the castle, but enough stayed to keep the battle interesting.
Harry moved away once Ginevra was fighting Ron. He had barely taken ten steps when out of the corner of his eye he saw her cast a cutting curse that almost took Ron's head clean off. Ronald Weasley fell over like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Vicious satisfaction thrummed through Harry as he turned his attention to where some idiotic Death Eaters were attacking Slytherin students.
"Diffindo!" Harry slashed his wand through the air, and his magic lashed out like a whip towards a Death Eater. He screamed as his hand fell to the ground, spurting blood. Another Death Eater, seeing Harry coming, apparated away to the other side of the field.
Harry came close to Draco, "You shouldn't come to the manor."
"I'm coming," Draco said, viciously cutting down a Gryffindor in his way. "That bastard—"
"Fine— watch me— follow when I go—" Harry cut off as a powerful snap of magic rolled through the clearing. Amycus fell, knocked unconscious by Dumbledore, and Alecto started screaming, her wand waving wildly.
Harry turned his attention from Draco and ran toward Dumbledore. He'd already evaluated Dumbledore as a threat. The man was too powerful and too experienced. Dumbledore's magic would feel the intent behind any spell coming at him. But Harry had a different plan of attack in mind. One, he thought the older wizard would never be able to block or sense him coming.
A vicious grin slashed across his face.
Harry began running full tilt toward Dumbledore, so fast the battlefield blurred around him. He shoved every bit of magic deep inside, trying to hide it from detection. Spells flashed around him, but Harry ignored them, his sole focus on the old man's back.
Dumbledore was focused on Alecto, and he raised his wand, speaking in his nauseatingly calm voice, "Miss Carrow, I do not think you intend—"
When Harry was three feet away, he leapt into the air, hitting Dumbledore directly in the back and throwing the man forward into the ground. Dumbledore planted face-first in the dirt with a grunt. Harry ducked and rolled, coming up triumphantly with the old man's wand.
Dumbledore looked every year of his age as he unsteadily rose to his knees, looking dazed. Sweat and dirt covered his face, and he couldn't seem to comprehend what had happened. Alecto started laughing madly at the sight, a vicious light in her eyes as she advanced on Dumbledore on the kneeling.
Dumbledore seemed to snap back into focus at her laugh, his other wand appearing instantly in his hand. He turned and spotted Harry with the Elder Wand. "Harry—"
"Crucio!" Alecto screamed. The spell slashed out, hitting Dumbledore and making him curl into the dirt.
"Expelliarmus!" Snape's spell yanked Alecto's wand from her grip as he ran toward Dumbledore. He put his hand under Dumbledore's elbow, helping him to his feet.
Alecto's wand spun in the air in a high arc before it fell and disappeared amongst other fighters. Dumbledore turned toward Snape, gratitude already forming in his eyes — but a surge of green light struck from behind and hit Snape square in the back. He collapsed without a sound. With the spells flying around, it was impossible to tell who had fired the killing shot at Snape. Grief twisted Dumbledore's face.
Harry laughed, and Dumbledore's shocked eyes turned to him. Harry smiled at him, twirling the Elder wand and tucking it in his cloak before he disapparated. He felt Dumbledore's tracking charm hit him just before he disappeared, and his smile widened into a sneering grin.
Follow me, Old Man.
In anticipation of Harry and Draco apparating in the wards were down at the Lestrange Estate. Harry was able to apparate into the center of the grand ballroom—or what used to be the grand ballroom. Cracks and debris littered the ballroom floor; the room hadn't been cleaned in years after Bellatrix killed the last house elf that maintained it.
Harry didn't turn as he landed in the middle of the Death Eater crowd. As soon as Voldemort saw him, he started speaking. Harry ignored him and ran toward the far side of the room, trying to get as far away from his apparition point as possible.
Voldemort stopped speaking, dumbfounded when Harry moved away without acknowledging him, and the Death Eaters around him tittered with a few scattered laughs as the crowd adjusted around Harry, opening up and giving Voldemort a clear pathway to him.
Voldemort only managed to take one step when a second deafening crack of apparition split the air where Harry had just been.
Dumbledore ported into the middle of the crowd of Death Eaters, facing Voldemort only meters away from him. A split second later, there was another crack as Draco ported in, closer to the far side of the ballroom.
Voldemort waved his wand sharply through the air, and the magic around them shifted as the estate wards locked back into place. No one was apparating out now.
Dumbledore's blue eyes were wild as he looked around, his shoulders hunched as he spun in a desperate circle, his wand outward.
Voldemort hesitated only a fraction of a second before a vicious green light burst from the end of his wand. "Avada Kedavra!" He snarled at Dumbledore.
The Death Eaters were practically pressed against the walls as they tried to avoid getting in the middle of the fight.
Harry scanned the crowd until he spotted Antonin Dolohov. Dolohov stood with one hand twisted in Hermione's hair, holding her upright like a doll. She was awake, and her face was a grimace of pain in his hold. There was blood on her forehead as if he'd hit her. Her wand was nowhere to be seen.
When Dolohov caught Harry's gaze, he smiled tauntingly. "Look who found their way home." He mouthed at him over the roar of the fight, tightening his hold on Hermione.
For a moment, Harry managed to forget everything — including the ferocious battle happening just meters from him. His face twisted with rage as he raised his wand to attack Dolohov, but before he could even think about casting the wall to his left exploded outward, flinging him hard onto his shoulder.
Stone, glass, and fire blasted across the room as two immense magical powerhouses collided in the middle of the ballroom. Magical shields popped up to block the worst of the damage.
Fire exploded from Dumbledore's wand, screeching as it took the shape of a phoenix, flying straight toward Voldemort. Voldemort answered with a tidal wave of water that slammed against the fire in a hissing maelstrom.
It was hard to think with the shock waves of magical power that radiated from the fighting wizards. Voldemort's eyes were manic as he threw curse after curse in Dumbledore's direction, and Harry saw the beads of sweat on Dumbledore's brow.
It didn't matter to Harry, though— one or the other he'd be the one facing them soon. But he had to get closer to and disarm Dolohov— to get Hermione away from this place.
Dolohov had let Hermione sag to the ground as he backed away from the duel between Voldemort and Dumbledore. The ground shook as Harry took stumbling steps toward her.
Hermione was on all fours, shaking, trying to get to her feet. She looked beyond him and froze.
Harry froze as silence descended, and he turned around abruptly, his wand out.
Voldemort stumbled, his hand held tightly to his torso. His robe had ripped, and there was the pale flash of flesh and blood where Dumbledore had struck true.
Dumbledore stood opposite him, breathing hard with his wand raised for the finishing blow.
Then he hesitated, his eyes flickering around to everyone watching him. Harry grimaced.
The fool.
"Tom—, "Dumbledore began, lowering his wand.
But Voldemort didn't hesitate; a thin, vicious green beam lashed out.
Dumbledore's eyes widened dumbly as the green streaked toward him. Then he exhaled softly and fell.
His body made no sound as he collapsed onto the marble.
The Death Eaters were silent only a moment before they started crowing in delight. Victorious screams rang through the ballroom.
Voldemort's face stayed twisted, his one hand clutching his torso. There was a wild, unhinged look in his red eyes as they scanned the ballroom before lighting on Harry.
"What did you think you were doing bringing him here, Potter?" He hissed, and before Harry could answer, he slashed his wand through the air. "Crucio!"
Hermione screamed hoarsely as Harry collapsed.
Pain obliterated Harry, and he lost track of reality for long moments. His jaw cracked with pain as he struggled to keep his mouth shut and not scream. Through blurred vision, he saw an abrupt movement, and his heart, already struggling, leapt in his chest in panic.
Narcissa Malfoy launched herself forward toward Voldemort with her hands outstretched.
Voldemort flicked his wrist in her direction, and she was hurled across the hall like a piece of rubbish, slamming into a column hard enough to crack it. She hit the floor and didn't move.
"Mother!" Draco's scream broke.
Harry watched from slitted eyes as Draco and Lucius Malfoy rushed to Narcissa's side. He noted neither had wands. With Voldemort's attention distracted, the Cruciatus ended, and Harry lay on his side, shaking with blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Voldemort's gaze flicked around the now quiet ballroom. "Bella!" He called.
The silence held as his red eyes scanned the crowd. Finally, Dolohov answered. "My lord…. She's dead."
The red in Voldemort's eyes flared brighter at the response, and his hand clenched against his torso as blood dripped down his robes. "I need — I need some assistance …. You don't mind, do you, Potter? After all I've done for you?" Voldemort hissed, his lips drawn back from his teeth.
"Imperio." The blast struck Harry in the chest, and Voldemort laughed. "Now, who should I make you kill first?"
The familiar power of Voldemort's imperious rushed through his mind, chain after chain binding his willpower to his. Harry fought against it as Voldemort raised him to his feet. His body trembled so badly it looked like he would fall over, but he remained standing as if an invisible fist gripped him, freezing him in place.
"Narcissa?" Voldemort's red eyes burned as they swung to where she still lay unmoving. "Not a very loyal sister was she?"
Voldemort went closer to her, enjoying the fear he could see in Draco and Lucius eyes as they crouched over her. "But no… Narcissa is a pureblood after all …. The last of the ancient and noble house of black—" He stopped and laughed. "Or almost the last."
Voldemort turned wildly back to Harry, rushing toward him and leaving crimson droplets on his way. "But Narcissa is useful, isn't she? I can control little Lucius and Draco with her— not to mention you…" He stopped a few feet from Harry, his eyes moving beyond him to where Hermione still crouched, watching, horrified. "But this frizzy little mudblood toy you have…. Yes! You can kill her for me!"
Blood spurted from Harry's nose as he fought the imperious, the curse tracking through well-worn paths in his soul to chain him. Voldemort had always been particularly fond of unforgivables.
Kill her.
The command snaked through Harry, splitting his reality. There was the vision of Voldemort's red eyes that filled everything. That tinted everything in crimson red.
Kill her.
Then there was her. Hermione Granger. The girl he'd been watching since her first year at Hogwarts. The secret crush he'd nursed for years before she'd approached him.
Blood ran from his ear, shockingly hot against his collar as he found himself pointing his wand at Hermione.
I love you, Harry.
Hermione's words burned through him, snapping the chains that bound him, and his wand shook violently in his grip. His muscles spasmed as he fought Voldemort's imperious.
Voldemort trembled as he struggled to control him, his eyes flaring with mad rage. "Kill her, I said!"
The Death Eaters remained frozen as they watched the spectacle. Harry's lips pulled back from his teeth, and blood ran down his face, staining them garishly. His arm swung downward as his legs collapsed and he slammed his wand into the floor, the power snapping outward and fracturing the marble.
Voldemort's imperious shattered.
"Fine," Voldemort whispered, staring him with a strange respect. "I'll do it myself." He looked at Hermione, and his wand slashed through the air. "Avada Kedavra!"
Harry didn't even think about it as he saw the green light moving toward Hermione in slow motion. He threw himself forward and it slammed into him, the killing green engulfing him again.
Hermione threw herself forward, trying to catch Harry as he fell in front of her. No.
"Harry, please come back to me. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, I'm sorry, please don't leave me alone." Hermione sobbed, her heart cratering in two. Harry remained limp in her arms, his eyes closed and his body covered in blood from both the cruciatus and fighting the imperius.
Voldemort laughed shakily, taking a stumbling step back. He wobbled his face spasming, and then took another step, stumbling and falling flat on his arse.
But Hermione couldn't look away from Harry lying in her lap, his eyes closed and his glasses askew.
No, no, this wasn't the way the battle was supposed to go— this wasn't supposed to happen to them.
"Harry." She said her face was scratched from her screaming. "You get your arse up right now."
"Stupid mudblood," Voldemort muttered impatiently, gesturing to his minions next to him to help him up.
Hermione didn't pay attention; her gaze not wavering from Harry. "Harry James Potter, you get up right now!" She screamed. "You get up and kill him."
Fuck.
Harry lay face down, listening to the silence around him. He'd never really wondered what death would be like — or speculated on the state, as he had always been determined to stay alive.
He groaned softly into what seemed to be soft grass. His heart thumped painfully, reminding him of where he'd managed to leave Hermione.
Alone.
Facing Voldemort.
Fuck!
He shifted slightly, finally opening his eyes to see the dark forest around him. The ground was obscured with a bright mist, and above him, the stars shone brightly. The Virgo constellation gleamed as if to berate him.
He sat up, looking down at himself and patting his chest for a moment. He didn't appear to have any wounds at all anymore. Then a soft thumping sound broke the stillness.
Harry didn't expect to find his wand — but he patted his pockets anyway as he carefully approached the thumping noise.
When he found the source of the noise, he grimaced and recoiled. It looked like a monstrous child, its skin raw and rough, flayed-looking as it flailed in the dirt.
He stared at it for a long moment as it drew in shuddering breaths, flailing in the dirt. Was this some strange version of hell being here with this thing?
"It's Voldemort."
Harry spun, fist already drawn back.
"Whoa." Said the young man, holding up his hands. They looked about the same age, and he even looked similar to Harry with messy black hair and glasses. "Harry, I'm not your enemy."
Harry stared at the man intently as he moved toward the small being struggling in the grass. There was no pity in his hazel eyes as he stared down at it. "Ugly little thing, isn't it?"
"Who are you?" Harry asked something inside him, already knowing the answer.
The man gave a crooked smile. "James Potter." The smile slowly slipped from his face as he moved closer to Harry. "Hi, son."
Harry's stomach dropped. The crooked smile. The shape of his face. The eyes.
Harry stared at the man who'd died trying to protect him. Narcissa had told him that much. He wished now that he'd investigated more about his parents — he hadn't known he'd looked so much like his father.
James shook his head as if he could hear his thoughts. "Don't worry about that now—" He broke off with a shuddering breath. "You had things a bit rougher than I — than I hoped. Your mum and me never meant for you to be alone — to be with the Malfoys." James face twisted at the end.
"The Malfoys were good to me." It hadn't been good at first, but then they'd grown to be what Harry considered his only family.
James just shook his head, looking sad.
Harry looked around the forest—the wind blew, curling through the trees, almost sounding like voices. "So this is death?"
James blinked at the cool response and looked around as if seeing their surroundings for the first time. He scratched his head. "No." He shrugged at Harry. "This isn't death."
"What is then?" The wind blew again more insistently, and his cloak rippled.
"Hmm." James looked around, thinking. "Like a way station. A bridge between life and death."
The wind rose again—
Harry James Potter, you open your eyes right now!
Hermione's voice cut through the clearing like a blade.
Her voice carried anger. Fear. Magic.
The mist flickered at the edges.
"Hermione!" Harry said, looking around frantically. "How do I get back?"
"That way." James pointed to the darkness beyond in the trees.
Harry turned, and James caught his shoulder before he could take a step. "You can choose, you know. You don't have to go back."
"I love her— I'm not leaving her alone to face him."
Pain briefly flashed over James' expression before he nodded in understanding.
Harry turned and started toward the trees.
"Harry!"
Harry paused and looked back.
"After you kill Voldemort," his hands fisted at his sides. "There's something I need you to do."
Harry waited.
"My best mate — Sirius. He didn't betray us— he's innocent." James jaw clenched. "Get him out of Azkaban for me, yeah?"
Harry nodded once, hard. "I'll get him out."
James nodded and raised his hand in farewell. "We love you, Harry — your mum and me— so much."
Harry's heart clenched hearing it, hearing how familiar it sounded — almost like he'd heard it before in another lifetime.
"Go kick some arses, son."
Harry laughed and turned to run to the trees. "I promise!" He shouted as the darkness covered him, ripping his reality to shreds.
"Harry James Potter, I swear I'm leaving you if you don't get your arse up right now and kill this bastard," Hermione had gone from sobbing, grief-stricken to rage. As if she'd wake Harry from the dead personally with her screams.
"Shut up!" Voldemort screamed back at her, his wand waving wildly as he scrambled on his arse. He looked around, almost confused. "Someone get Bella— where is that bloody witch when I need her!" He ranted half mad as his red eyes twitched, scanning his surroundings.
"She's dead, my lord, " Someone whispered again in the silence.
Hermione pressed her forehead to Harry's.
"You can't be dead," she said, voice shaking but furious. "I don't accept it. You hear me? I don't accept it."
Her fingers tightened in his robes.
"You get up," she demanded. "You get up right now and finish this. I want him dead."
Her tears hit his face.
There was a pause.
Then—
His chest rose.
Hermione froze.
Harry's lashes fluttered. His eyes opened slowly, focusing on her.
For half a heartbeat, he looked confused.
Then he smiled faintly.
"Alright, love."
Had she gone insane? Perhaps. "Kill him." She repeated again with deadly intent.
Harry's hands flexed, and he couldn't find his wand near him, so he reached within his cloak puling out the elder wand. The wand's magic seemed to recognize him— and he recognized it in turn. It was like a puzzle piece clicking into place. The last bit he had been missing.
The cloak. The stone. The wand.
He'd heard the children's tales. He knew the whispers. But now he believed them.
Gasps rippled across the ballroom as Harry got to his feet, holding the Elder Wand.
"You— how could you— you can't—," Voldemort whispered feebly, backing up and staring in shock at Harry.
"But I can," Harry smiled, slow and dangerous. "Killing you is something I've been waiting to do for a long time. What did you tell me when you found me? That there is no right or wrong. Only what is in your power to do. And killing you is definitely within my power."
Harry waved the Elder Wand, and a cutting curse cracked through the air like cannon fire. He felt invincible.
It wouldn't be a duel between him and Voldemort. He would just destroy him and throw him in the rubbish bin.
Voldemort's movements were barely fast enough to block the spells shooting through the air at him — his return fire was erratic and wild, fueled by fury and fear. Harry advanced on him with brutal efficiency.
Shields snapped into place amongst the Death Eaters as Voldemort's curses went wild, nowhere near on target.
Harry's magic hammered Voldemort backward across the shattered ballroom. Each strike made him seem smaller and more desperate. Smears of blood were left on the marble with each step Voldemort took.
As the battle raged, Hermione looked around and darted to where Draco and Lucius hovered over Narcissa.
"Harry's going to win," Hermione told them urgently, keeping an eye on the battle. The Death Eaters were fixated on watching the slow destruction of their leader.
Draco had a shell-shocked look on his face, his eyes darting between the battle and his still passed-out mother.
But Lucius nodded, cradling Narcissa. "Good riddance. Today will be the last day of Voldemort's reign."
Hermione shook her head urgently. "He's going to call the Death Eaters to help him soon— right now, he's in shock that he's losing, but that won't last. He'll call them. He won't fight alone."
Hermione's jaw tightened as she looked at Draco's blank eyes.
"Draco." She said sharply, trying to get him to think. "Get Pike. Get the rest of the Slytherins— all of them. Bring them here ready to fight again."
Draco looked from her to the battle and bolted, trying to get beyond the wards to apparate away.
Hermione whirled back to watch the fight as Harry blew through Voldemort's Protego.
Voldemort was blasted back— and his back cracked against a fractured column. A vicious sneer crossed his face as his eyes darted around the ballroom, seeing his death eaters gaze back at him.
Hermione saw the realization of his inevitable defeat sink into him. Just as she predicted, his head snapped toward the watching Death Eaters.
"Attack him!" Voldemort commanded. "Kill him! All of you stop just standing there staring like idiots!"
Hermione ran to stand next to Harry. "Stop! You know he's weak, and he's mad — don't— "
"Shut up, girl!" Dolohov roared. "How dare you—"
Their voices were almost in sync as they cast. "Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort and Hermione screamed as one.
Harry grabbed Hermione, yanking her backward out of Voldemort's spell pathway, but Hermione's spell shot true — slamming Dolohov against the wall, where he fell dead. Hermione didn't betray a flicker of remorse as her gaze stayed fixed for a moment on Dolohov's body.
The Death Eaters jerked forward their wands raised, and Harry's powerful Protego Maxima popped up.
Then the doors of the ruined ballroom exploded open, and Slytherins poured in.
Green-trimmed robes flared as they ran in with wands raised. Their faces were pale but resolute as they skidded to a halt directly in front of their own fathers.
The room was locked in stunned paralysis as family stared at family. Patriarchs to their heirs.
No one moved.
Except Harry.
He didn't hesitate when he saw the opening. He slashed his wand, dismissing the shield spell. While the Death Eaters stared in shock at their prodigy and Voldemort's face spasmed in rage, he lifted the elder wand.
"Avada Kedavra."
The curse hit Voldemort directly in the chest.
It was stupidly anticlimactic. Harry didn't know what he expected when Voldemort died. Earthquakes and a volcanic eruption.
Hell to open up and swallow the body.
But there was just the blinding flash of green from his spell and Voldemort's body jerking once — and falling over dead.
There was a wet sound as he hit the marble, and silence swallowed the estate whole.
For several long seconds, they all stared at each other. Then the one by one, the Slytherins turned to him, going down on one knee as they reaffirmed their allegiance.
Harry could see the realization in the Death Eaters who were left. Voldemort had died, and the power had shifted. Those knowledgeable enough recognized the Elder Wand in his hand and the power Harry now wielded.
Slowly, cautiously, the remaining Death Eaters followed suit. Knees hit marble in submission.
Harry stood over Voldemort's corpse, his chest rising and falling, blood drying all over him. He turned his head slightly, spying Hermione, and held his hand out for her.
She took his hand and stepped to his side. He looked out over the army kneeling before him.
"I am not Voldemort," Harry said evenly. "And I will not rule as he did."
No one moved.
"There will be no blood purity laws. No persecution of Muggleborns. No torture masquerading as tradition."
His eyes moved over them — fathers, sons, allies, enemies — all reduced to stillness.
"But understand this."
His grip tightened around Hermione's hand. He lifted it, not in triumph, but in declaration.
"I am your lord now."
A faint tremor passed through the room.
"And she is your lady. The power in this world has shifted. If any of you conspire, plot, or raise a hand against those under my protection…" His gaze flicked briefly to Voldemort's corpse. "You will follow him in death."
The ballroom remained kneeling. The old regime was dead at their feet. And the new rule — their rule— had just begun.
Harry's bedroom in his safe house was dark. The curtains were pulled shut tight, closing out the outside world. The only light in the room was the low fire that burned in the fireplace, casting a warm, flickering glow over the bed.
Harry lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head and the other draped over Hermione's waist. Her cheek rested against his chest, rising and falling with each breath he took.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. The world around them had shifted, and both were still coming to terms with the realization that everything they'd fought for had come true.
Hermione traced a lazy line over Harry's sternum with her fingertip. "I still haven't forgiven you for dying in front of me. You stopped breathing for nearly a minute." She said quietly.
Harry huffed a faint laugh. "It felt longer than that."
Hermione stilled. "Don't do that. Don't laugh."
Harry turned his head to look at her. In the low light, he could see the slight sheen of tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." He said gently. "It just didn't hurt."
Hermione lifted herself onto one elbow to study him. "What happened then?"
Harry stared at the ceiling for a moment, searching for words that didn't feel ridiculous. "It must have knocked me out or something because I woke up in the dark forest. In the clearing, we went that night before the Quidditch match. The Virgo constellation we cast was still there. There was this white mist everywhere. I thought it was what death would be like for me — I was kind of pissed off at that."
Hermione's hand tightened on him.
"But it wasn't death. Not really. Someone was there with me."
Hermione's brows knit together. "Who?"
"My father."
Silence settled between them.
Hermione looked thoughtful as she stared down at him. "Do you think it was some projection of your own mind? While you fought off death?"
Harry gave her a quick smile. "I don't think so. He said things I wouldn't have thought of — he brought up Sirius Black — said he was innocent. Told me to get him out of Azkaban."
"How curious."
Harry nodded. "He also told me I had a choice — that the forest was like a way station— that I could have chosen not to go back."
"Not to go back…" Hermione repeated slowly, her eyes widening. "Like chosen to die?"
"Yes."
She looked frightened for a moment, and Harry reached over, pulling her back against him. "I would have never left you. Even in the afterlife, I could hear you yelling for me." He teased her gently.
Hermione trembled against him for a moment before she steadied herself. "I would have dragged you back myself. You don't get to leave me now, Harry, after everything."
He believed her. "There's something else, though, about that choice."
"What?"
"There's a wizarding story about three Hallows, which if one wizard owns them all, he becomes the master of death."
"That sounds like a fairy tale," Hermione murmured, but she sounded uneasy.
"I thought it was until I realized I had them. I always knew the magic was different — older and more powerful — I didn't realize it until the battle what it truly was— and why I had the choice in my death."
Harry looked her in the eyes. "The cloak of invisibility to hide me from death. The resurrection stone to speak to the dead. And finally, the power of the Elder Wand."
"That's what that stone was — the one you took from the Gaunt house?"
Harry nodded. "We have to be careful how we use it — powerful magic always comes with a price."
Hermione gave a little sigh, probably letting go of the idea of talking to historical figures. "I suppose so." She agreed; she turned her head to look at him. "What does it mean for us that you have these hallows? Will people come after us?"
Harry gave her a deadpan look. "Not if they want to keep living."
Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. "What about the hallows' effects on you. What will it mean for you that you have them? Do you think you are immortal now?"
Harry's brows furrowed as he considered and looked inside himself and his magic. "No, I just think now I have a choice in my death." He looked at her. "I wouldn't want to live forever anyway unless you were with me."
Hermione sighed, seemingly satisfied with that answer, and settled back against him. The tension eased slightly from her shoulders. After a moment, she nudged him lightly.
"Well, my lord." She said teasingly, despite everything. "What's our next plan?"
Harry grinned at her. "Finish establishing our power here. I've got to get Lucius to start reversing some laws - and I need the pardon for Sirius."
"What about school? Do you think we should go back?"
Harry was quiet watching her. He didn't think they needed to go back — they had the resources to do whatever they wanted — continue their studies independently or even get into the Ministry. Hogwarts would just hold them back. But he didn't say that. Instead, he stroked a curl back from her face. "Do you want to go back, love?"
Hermione stared at him for a long moment before slowly shaking her head. "How will we survive, though? Get jobs?"
"We'll manage," he said lightly as he smiled at her and nuzzled her a little. Hermione was one of the smartest witches he knew, but sometimes she ignored things right under her nose.
Like him. For years.
He supposed he owed the Order of the Phoenix something for placing her in his path. Maybe he'd let go of his bitterness about the rest of them surviving.
"That's not really an answer, Harry," Hermione said practically, seemingly already moving on from his revelation that he was the Master of Death.
"We're rich, Hermione. We could live several lifetimes doing absolutely nothing and barely make a dent in my vault."
"You're rich." She muttered disagreeably. "I'm not rich."
Harry gave a wicked grin, rolling her under him. "I guess you'll have to seduce me into sharing it with you." He pushed his face against the curve of her neck, giving her loving little bites while she squealed under him.
He smiled against her skin while thoughts of the long list of things he had to do tried to intrude. Getting the pardon from Lucius was going to take some time, as it required the signature of several leaders within the Wizengamot.
Hermione shifted under him, though, and he pushed those thoughts aside, plenty of time to get things in order for his trip to Azkaban. He had more important matters to attend to at the moment.
He shifted on top of Hermione, settling between her legs, as heat blossomed between them. He couldn't help but think, even with the long list of things he had to do, his new life was going to be pretty brilliant.
A month after the battle with Voldemort, Harry stood at the bow of a small Ministry skiff, hands clasped behind his back, expressionless as they approached the magical prison. Around him was a team of Aurors who seemed spooked both at their destination and Harry.
Azakaban wasn't so much an island as it was a large jagged rock rising out of the sea. The water around it churned darkly, waves slamming into the stone with thunderous crashes.
Harry had a folded pardon for Sirius Black from the Minister of Magic, Lucius Malfoy, in hand. It was easy to tell from the expressions on the Auror's faces that they knew he was the one who had overtaken Voldemort and now controlled the Death Eaters. They didn't seem quite certain how to act around him or what to expect of him.
As the skiff docked, a dementor glided forward to meet them. An icy chill rushed over Harry, and he could hear Hermione's scream as he fell to Voldemort's death curse.
He didn't flinch as his body turned to ice.
The creature didn't stop until it was inches away from him, its hooded face angled downward as its rattling breath hissed from the darkness.
The Aurors behind him twitched at the proximity of the Dementor, their hands reaching for their wands.
"Get back," Harry said quietly with absolute authority.
The Dementor made a screeching sound, jerking away from him. Guards rushed forward, apologizing. One of them grimaced at the Dementor, advising that they were sometimes hard to control.
Harry and his contingent proceeded forward as they opened the gates. There were very few guards stationed inside the building, along with boxes of chocolates near their guard stations.
The guard who had greeted them directed them to the cell they needed. Harry felt a spark of recognition in his magic as the door opened and he beheld a massive black dog curled in the corner of the cell.
Padfoot! A scream of childish glee echoed in his mind.
The dog moved, and its ribs were visible through the matted, dirty fur. Its breathing was shallow as its head swung to him and looked at him with dull silver eyes.
"I'm sorry, sir." The guard was frantic as he paged through his paperwork. "This should be Sirius Black's cell—"
"He's an animagus," Harry said quietly, watching the dog. "Sirius."
The dog's ear twitched, and he slowly, painfully got to his feet with a whimper before coming toward Harry and leaning against his leg.
"This is highly irregular." The guard muttered, still flipping through reports. "There is no registration for this prisoner about an animagus form—"
Harry cut him off. "I'm taking my dog home." He placed his hand gently on Sirius's head, and the dog's tail thumped against the ground.
"But, sir, if he doesn't have his registration, that makes him illegal—"
"I said I'm leaving." Harry interrupted his voice like a whip. "Do you want me to get the Head Auror down here to explain what that means?"
The guard shook violently. "No— uh, I understand — okay — its all — I'll fix the paperwork sir—"
Harry turned around, ignoring the guard and urging Sirius to follow him, but he was too weak and collapsed before he'd taken two steps. Harry took out his wand, conjuring a blanket and casting a featherlight charm on the dog before lifting him easily into his arms.
He should have considered what state Sirius would be in after being in Azkaban for so long, but he'd just felt the urgency of getting him out.
Harry carried him back out to the skiff, and they quickly set back off to the relief of the rest of the Aurors escorting him. As soon as he felt them pass beyond the anti-apparition wards of Azkaban, he disapparated from the boat with Sirius in tow.
They landed together in front of the large mansion Harry had found deeded to him by his parents. It was an ancestral home that had been in the Potter line for centuries.
In his arms, Sirius seemed to recognize it, his snout twitching, and he licked Harry's face several times, which was quite disgusting, but Harry didn't say a word.
Hermione came around the corner holding a book and stopped abruptly. "Oh. I didn't know we were getting a dog." She looked behind him. "Where's Black?"
The dog whined at her. Harry set him down gently. "This is Sirius Black."
"Oh." Hermione looked at him interestedly. "An animagus?" Her nose wrinkled. "He needs food and a bath, and I'm not certain what order is best."
Harry inspected Sirius. "I'd say both at the same time."
Hermione waved her wand, banishing her book back to the Potter library. "You start on the bath, and I'll talk to Mutton about some nutritious food that we can get into him."
Harry nodded and bent back to pick up Sirius and take him up to the bathroom. The dog squirmed in his arms and whined.
"If you want to bathe yourself or protest the plan, you're going to have to transform."
Sirius just whined in his throat and remained a dog.
Harry and Hermione bathed him and fed him, all the while talking to each other normally and occasionally asking Sirius questions. Sirius only responded with dog noises, still refusing to transform.
Later, after they'd settled him into the room Hermione had prepared, Harry and Hermione spoke quietly outside the door.
"Why do you think he won't transform back?" Hermione asked worriedly, staring at the closed door.
Harry shrugged. "We might have to get a therapist— who knows what long-term exposure to dementors might have done to his mind."
Hermione bit her lip, thinking for a moment, then leaned even closer to Harry. "Maybe we should ask your dad for help."
Harry looked at her thoughtfully, then at the closed door. "Fine if he doesn't change back within the next few days, we'll use the resurrection stone.
A flicker of excitement passed through Hermione's eyes. Harry knew a part of her had really wanted to experiment with the stone, even though they agreed to try not to use them.
A week later, they gathered together in the study. Harry, Hermione, and Sirius— still a dog.
Harry looked down at the stone in his hand, surprised to find himself a little nervous about seeing James Potter again. He patted Sirius's head, who was leaning against his leg, looking up at him with soulful silver eyes.
"I'm going to get someone to help talk to you." He told Sirius softly, holding the stone in his hand. It was cool against his palm, the magic caressing him pleasantly.
He turned over the stone three times, thinking of James Potter, and the air around them grew colder. Sirius whimpered as a figure coalesced in front of them.
The messy black hair and hazel eyes were distinguishable even though James appeared faded from life. Not at all how he'd seemed in the clearing that day of the battle.
Here, he truly looked ghostly.
As soon as he spotted Sirius, his eyes lit up. "Sirius." He breathed, moving closer to the dog.
"He won't transform back," Harry told James softly.
James didn't seem to hear him, or at least he didn't react, his total focus on Sirius. "Sirius." He said again, his voice so incredibly gentle. "You daft mutt. What do you think you're doing?"
A whine slipped from the dog's throat.
James cocked his head. "Of course, this is real. You survived Azkaban, mate, and now you're free— Harry here— remember him?" James's fingers ghosted slowly over Sirius's snout. "Little prongs, you called him. He's here to help you for me." James looked up to Harry, his face pleading. "You will, won't you?"
"Of course," Harry promised.
"See?" James' voice changed, becoming stern. "Now stop being a git and change back."
The dog's head dropped, and he whimpered.
"No, I don't blame you. It was never your fault, Pads." Grief passed over James' face. "You didn't fail me— and you didn't fail him— we all just made some shite choices."
James straightened, a hardness coming into his face, and he looked more like Harry than he ever had in that moment. "Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and change back."
The dog shook his snout violently, but magic sparked around his body. Sirius' bones shifted and cracked. The fur rippled and disappeared. A man was on the floor naked, with messy, brittle hair down to his waist.
Hermione's wand whipped through the air, and a cloak appeared over him that he clutched gratefully.
Sirius sobbed as he knelt there before James Potter's ghost. "I'm sorry— I'm so sorry, Jamie— please— "
"Sirius," James said sternly, getting his attention. "Do you know what I want you to do?"
"What?" Sirius asked his voice cracking.
James softened, looking around the room. "Look after my boy and his girl. I got a feeling they'll get into trouble before long." He paused his hand, reaching out again to lay gently on Sirius's shoulder. "And live, mate. Have a happy life. That's what I need from you, can you do that for me?"
Tears ran down Sirius's face as he nodded frantically, unable to speak.
James looked at Harry. "Thank you, son."
Harry nodded and let the stone go, dropping it into his pocket. The magic in the room shifted, James fading away and the chill fading with him.
Sirius made a whimpering dog-like sound. "Bring him back." He looked at Harry desperately. His hands trembled with the force of his emotions. "Bring him back!"
Harry shook his head firmly, seeing the desperation in Sirius's gaze. "He told you what you needed to know."
Hermione's gaze met Harry's in a greater understanding of the temptations of the resurrection stone. The resurrection stone was dangerous — to someone who had lost someone dear, it would be viciously addictive. It would be better not to have Sirius dwell on those he couldn't have in his life again.
Sirius shuddered before straightening his shoulders. "I don't know if I can do it."
Harry and Hermione approached closer, helping him to his feet, as he clasped the cloak tight around him. "We'll help you figure it out," Harry told him reassuringly as he led him from the room.
Six months later, the Potter estate rang with voices. Padma, Luna, Theo, and Draco had moved in with Harry, Hermione, and Sirius. Mutton, the house elf, was so ecstatic that he had so many people to care for that he went about humming and bragging about his duties.
Hermione had had several arguments with him about getting another house elf to help him. So far, Mutton had been winning, but Harry would never bet against Hermione's stubbornness.
The mornings were the loudest because everyone attended breakfast. Hermione and Draco were arguing over Prophet headlines — Hermione thought Lucius was moving too slowly on some legislation, and Draco thought she was being unrealistic.
Luna was carefully trying to style her beans into a geometric pattern. Pansy and Theo were flirting as was their usual. Sirius was sipping tea carefully and avoiding everyone's eyes. Harry thought he liked people, but wasn't too comfortable yet with the crowd.
Harry had a half smile on his face as he watched his people. He liked having them all under his roof— safe, protected, and happy.
He was just about to step into the argument about the Ministry with Draco and Hermione to offer the services of threatening a few Wizengamot members when Hermione stood abruptly from the table, her face green.
Her chair made a screeching sound as it scraped against the floor, and she clapped her hand over her mouth.
Everyone fell silent, and Harry stood up just as abruptly. "Hermione— are you alright—"
Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she nodded before shaking her head violently and stumbling from the room with everyone following and asking questions.
Harry was there first, right behind her, when she realized she wouldn't make it to the loo and bent over a pot in the entry hallway to hurl.
"Oh, this is so embarrassing." She muttered as she leaned against Harry after she finished.
"What's embarrassing— nothing happened," Harry said, vanishing the sickness and casting cleaning and refreshing charms on her mouth. "Let's get you to bed — something you ate probably upset your stomach."
Hermione, though, appeared fine as she was led to their bedroom. "I feel fine now, " she looked around to see the crowd of people following them. "Really, guys its nothing. I don't know why I suddenly got so nauseous."
Sirius was looking at them like he'd seen a ghost. He cleared his throat. "Morning sickness, perhaps."
Padma gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, Hermione, tell me you didn't forget!"
Draco and Theo still looked confused while Luna smiled delightedly.
"Forget—" Hermione said uncertainly before her face cleared and she paled again. "Oh, I think I'm going to be sick again." She looked at Harry with a white face. "Harry, I forgot."
Harry's stomach tightened as he refused to believe the answer his brain came up with. "Forgot what?" He was going to need her to spell it out.
"My contraceptive potion," Hermione mumbled, turning red. "With everything that happened, I must have… forgotten."
Harry's mind processed everything slowly as he stared at her. His chest felt tight. "Hermione, are you saying — you're— "
"Yes." She whispered in a small voice.
The room detonated. Harry, who had never really considered children before, suddenly found he desperately wanted them with her.
Harry whooped loudly and caught her up in his arms. "You're pregnant."
Sirius whistled at them and clapped, with Luna joining him in celebration. The other three still looked a little dumbfounded.
Hermione stared up at him worriedly. And leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "We don't have to be if you don't want to, Harry. I know we didn't discuss this —"
"Do you want to?" Harry asked, holding his breath as he stared down at her.
Hermione frowned at first, then her lips slowly tilted up as she stared at him. "Yes."
"Yes?"
"Yes!"
They both laughed and ignored everyone else as Harry carried her to their rooms. Harry slammed the door behind them and lay her in bed gently.
Hermione stared at him and bit her lip. "It would be crazy of us to have a child now, wouldn't it? We're just trying to fix the Ministry, we're barely nineteen— "
"We're financially secure, have a warded estate, have brilliant allies, and a house elf that's probably going to throw us all a party when he finds out."
Hermione's mouth twitched. "So you're sure?"
Harry stepped closer to her, crawling over her carefully. "Hermione, look at me. " He waited for a moment as their eyes met. "I will support whatever you choose, but I want this baby. I want you. I want this life we have."
Something fragile in her expression cracked, and she threw her arms around him. "I'm scared."
"Don't be. I'll be right beside you. And so will everyone here."
Hermione inhaled shakily. "Then — then let's have a baby, Harry."
Harry smiled so hard his face hurt, and he scooted down until he could rest his head against her flat belly.
Determination flowed through him as he thought of their child. The timeline he set for himself suddenly looked way too relaxed. He'd send some Death Eaters later to threaten those Wizengamot members into voting correctly.
Rebuilding the world took on a whole new urgency now — he wanted his child to grow up in a world completely different than the one he'd grown up in. A world where they would never be hurt, and always loved and cherished.
Harry cradled Hermione close, closing his eyes as he clutched his family to his heart.
Two years later, the late afternoon sun spilled across the rolling green lawn of the Potter Manor. The house cast an impressive shadow, the old stone and tall windows gleaming in soft sunlight.
On the grass in front of the house, Sirius Black, looking much healthier than he had when he first transformed human after his stint in Azkaban, jogged backward, one hand hovering protectively inches from where a very small, very determined boy sat wobbling atop a child-sized training broom.
"Steady, Jamie," Sirius told him, grinning his partial namesake, James Sirius Potter leaned dangerously left. "If you launch yourself into the grass, your mum will skin me alive."
James made babbling sounds, his little hands tight on the broom. The wind ruffled his already wild dark hair. Sirius had teased Hermione that her genes had barely made any effort — the boy looked like a replica of his father.
The broom tried to swivel through the air, and James giggled in delight. Sirius heart clenched as he watched him — he remembered the first time he had taken Harry out on his training broom. Lily had been watching him from the window like a mental stalker. He laughed to himself, remembering her face in the window as she tried to hide behind the curtains. It had been such a happy time before everything had turned terrible.
Sirius was determined to get it right this time—be the godfather Jamie needed—be the man James counted on to keep his son and grandson safe. He knew Harry and Hermione worried about him sometimes since he didn't socialize much, but he had all he needed here in Potter Manor.
Jamie jerked violently on the broom, snapping him out of his reverie. "Whoa there," He said, bracing him so he didn't fall. The broom was enchanted for safety and would never go that fast or fly very high, but he was still cautious. "Little taps with your toes, Jamie, you're not wrestling a dragon, little mate, you're flying."
Jamie laughed and let go of the broom and stretched out his hands for Sirius. Sirius caught him up in his arms and nuzzled the little boy. "Are you getting tired already? We're going to have to build up your stamina."
Jamie giggled and rested his head against his chest. Sirius stood still, letting the broom drift off a little way as he rocked the baby against him. "You're going to be alright, Jamie." He told his godson as he turned to look over the imposing Potter Manor, where his parents were.
"Your mummy and daddy love you very much." He murmured, kissing his godson's head. "They changed the world just for you. And even if other people might think they're the bad guys — so what? Who cares what other people think?"
James blinked up at him uncomprehendingly. "Pafoo." He murmured against Sirius's chest.
"P—Pa—d—fooot," Sirius pronounced for Jamie, slowly thinking he was obviously the most advanced and intelligent baby in the world.
Jamie giggled again, saying the mispronunciation over again as if trying to say he was the one saying it correctly and Sirius was wrong.
"Just as stubborn as your grandfather," Sirius murmured, cuddling him to his chest and trying to ignore the tears that burned his eyes as he thought of James not being here to teach his namesake.
A soft breeze ruffled both their hair, and Sirius could swear he heard James on the wind.
Have a happy life.
"I am." He whispered against godson's messy curls. "We do, Prongs. I promise."