Final Year, Chapter 15 – End Game

Rose couldn’t wait until the next evening arrived, so that she could finally hear how things turned out. She realized that the tale was nearly finished, but there were also quite a few loose ends to be wrapped up. After dinner she hurried through her chores and then joined her mother, who was already waiting for her on the sofa.

Rather than opening the notebook right away, however, Hermione took some time to provide an overview of the situation that existed at that point. “Now, you have to understand the circumstances we found ourselves in when we returned to Bill and Fleur’s cottage. Things were utterly chaotic, and that lasted for most of the month. There were about half a dozen urgent items that needed to be dealt with immediately, but that was just not possible. So Harry had to make some quick decisions about what needed doing first.”

“For one thing, I was in no condition to deal with tough decisions, or provide my usual level of analysis. That’s not the sort of experience that a woman just gets up from and goes right back to her normal behavior. For the first day or two I just wanted Harry to hold me and comfort me. Luna was pretty much the same, except with Ron. Ginny, on the other hand, was a complete basket case.”

“Why was it so much worse for her?” Rose wondered.

“Well, for one thing, she didn’t have anyone to provide that level of comfort. In fact, she couldn’t even bear to have any males near her. Fleur did the best she could, and Tonks when she was able, but it wasn’t the same. Don’t forget that she’d also just lost her mother and father, so she had a double blow to recover from,” Hermione explained patiently, fervently hoping that Rose would never have to experience the feeling firsthand. “Ordinarily it would have been her mum who she would have turned to for comfort and who would help her recover. The other thing that made it easier for Luna and me is that we were more accustomed to being treated badly, so you might say we were toughened up somewhat from our prior experiences at Hogwarts. We’d schooled ourselves to ignore taunts for years, so it was a bit easier to cope with the initial stages of our ordeals.”

“Ginny, on the other hand, was used to having things go her way. She was the youngest child in her family and the only girl, so she was doted on growing up. She also had more friends at school than Luna or I did, and was quite popular with the boys. So it was more of a shock to her to hear those comments, and be treated like that.”

“But she was possessed by the diary, wouldn’t that experience make her better able to deal with bad things like that?” Rose persisted.

“But she didn’t actually remember very much of that,” Hermione answered. “She had these large empty periods in her memory during the times that she was possessed. She only remembered writing back and forth to Tom, and for the most part he was charming and sympathetic. That’s not to say the experience at the end wasn’t extremely traumatic, but she was unconscious for nearly all of it.” Rose nodded her understanding and Hermione continued with her comments.

“The bottom line is that she stayed pretty isolated for several weeks, and didn’t go back to school right away. In fact, she never made it back before … well, I’m getting ahead of myself,” Hermione decided. “Let’s get back to the day of the rescue.”

“Fred and George were the first to return to the cottage, with Ginny and Luna, and they couldn’t do anything for her. She curled up into a ball and kept crying, and grew frantic when either of her brothers tried to hold her. So they contacted Madame Pomfrey at Hogwarts and got her to come out. She was in the Order, remember, so she was in on the Fidelius secret. The rest of us got back just as she’d finished putting Ginny to bed with Dreamless Sleep potion. She also helped Luna and me, giving us Calming Draughts, and got us to bed too. Luna insisted that Ron stay with her, and even made him climb into her bed and hold her. Naturally, Harry did the same for me. But he had other things that he had to see to as well, so he only stayed there until I fell asleep.”

“The first thing he wanted to know about, once he was sure I was going to be all right, was Dobby. Madame Pomfrey had to tell him that there wasn’t anything she could do for him. So he snuck back into Hogwarts, and she had Hagrid carry Dobby’s body out onto the grounds from the Hospital Wing. There he and Harry dug a grave and buried him, right next to Dumbldore’s tomb, thereby giving Dobby one of the most highly honored gravesites in Britain. They couldn’t do anything to call attention to it right at that time, but after everything was over Harry insisted on putting up a tombstone, which was unheard of for house elves. He and I talked about the inscription and this is what we came up with.”

Here Lies Dobby
A Free Elf
A Hero of the War AgainstVoldemort

Greater Love Hath No One Than This,
That He Lay Down His Life For His Friends

Hermione sighed, her mind briefly lost in her memories of the brave little elf. Rose tried to wait patiently for her to resume, but squirmed a bit. Hermione smiled down at her and took up the tale once more.

“Another pressing task was the burial for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Lovegood, and their memorial services. Now, it’s difficult to describe just how dramatic an effect what we’d just done had on the rest of the country. To begin with, the attack by Death Eaters on three pureblood homes, coming on top of the revelations about the detention camps the week before, pretty much destroyed the wizarding public’s support for the Ministry and its negotiated peace agreement with Voldemort. ‘A peace we can all live with’ he called it, and now it was clear to everyone that Voldemort’s side had no intention of taking those words seriously. Then, one day after the Daily Prophet reported on the attacks with front page stories and huge headlines, came the news that the Weasley family had struck back and rescued their sister and two other captives, and defeated a large number of Death Eaters, and destroyed the Malfoy mansion in the process!”

-oooOOOooo-

The story was a reporter’s dream and the press couldn’t get enough of it. It began with the eldest Weasley, with the glamorous job as cursebreaker for Gringotts, putting his occupational skills to use in breaking through the Malfoy wards. But even more, he was already a heroic figure whose good looks had been marred by a werewolf while he’d been defending the children of Hogwarts the previous spring. Then there was his wife, who fought by his side, the beautiful Beauxbatons Tri-Wizard champion, who had actually killed that werewolf, the most feared in Britain. Who had no qualms about expressing her disdain for the British Ministry of Magic, and chiding the chagrinned English wizarding population for being taken in by the now exposed farce of a peace agreement. And who was not above using her Veela charm on the male members of the press, who eagerly ate up every word she spoke, with her more pronounced than usual French accent.

Then there were the twins, the normally jovial owners of everyone’s favorite joke shop, who had turned their ability to make explosive pranks into the development of explosive devices that had enabled the small band of rescuers to defeat a much larger number of Death Eaters. The reporters also reminded the public of how these same entrepreneurs had been wronged by the Ministry, when they had previously used similar magical explosives to defend their place of business, which caused them to subsequently be branded as criminals. Of course there were also the damsels in distress, the sister and the friend of the family, who had been the reason for the rescue attempt in the first place, and the reading public was relieved to hear that they had been returned safely.

But to top it off, The Boy Who Lived himself had led the rescue attempt! This was probably the most uplifting part of the whole story for ordinary witches and wizards, as the Chosen One, who had disappeared from public view for four months, was now back and fighting You Know Who and his Death Eaters again. (Hermione’s name had been kept out of the accounts that had been given to the press. Harry had initially strongly objected, feeling that she deserved to be recognized for her amazing performance in the battle. But she convinced him to go along with it by noting that she didn’t like publicity any more than he did, and that while the public would be excited to learn that he’d been involved, no one was going to rally around a muggleborn witch.)

The uproar generated by the initial stories was fueled even further when Luna gave an exclusive interview at the end of the week to Rita Skeeter, and described in lurid detail just how she and Ginny had been treated during their captivity, giving the names of every participant in their torture and degradation. Skeeter ended up in a situation that she had never been in before – having to tone down the sensationalistic aspects of a story, rather than embellishing them. The British wizarding public exploded in indignation at the thought that two pureblood witches had been treated in such a fashion! The turnout for the memorial service that Saturday for Arthur, Molly, and Xenophilius was eclipsed only by that for Albus Dumbledore’s internment, and the mood was such that if any Death Eaters, or even Voldemort himself, had dared to make an appearance they would have been hexed into oblivion. When a picture showing the haunted face of Ginny Weasley at the funeral, the ordinarily pretty and vivacious girl now huddled up against her sister-in-law shying away from any other human contact, appeared in the next day’s Daily Prophet , it broke the hearts of every mother and father who saw it.

The government of magical Britain did not survive the weekend. Augusta Longbottom had quite a few old friends and acquaintances in the Wizengamot, and as her home had also been among those attacked, was not shy about expressing her opinion about the competence of the current Minister. The Macmillan and Smith families also brought their influence to bear, and combined with the overwhelming public sentiment, no amount of political maneuvering or closed-door deals/threats could keep Pius Thicknesse in office.

But the chaos that followed was nearly as debilitating for the effort against Voldemort as the pacifist policy had been. Everyone who had supported the old regime was suspect, but it was impossible to tell who had been Voldemort supporters and who had just gone along in order to keep their jobs. The most immediate need was to rebuild the dismantled Auror Corps and to that end Gawain Robards declined the position of Minister of Magic in order to head the DMLE, and Kingsley Shacklebolt was brought back to become Head Auror. Eventually Amos Diggory was selected to be Interim Minister. Unfortunately, the Ministry of Magic and the Aurors would be busy cleaning up their own house, and thereby of little use in the fight against Voldemort for some time to come.

-oooOOOooo-

Hermione paused in her recounting of the political fallout that followed the Weasley attack and rescue, and gave her daughter an appraising look. “Now, from our point of view, which of the things that we had to deal with in the aftermath of that episode was of the most immediate concern?” she challenged.

Rose opened her mouth to answer immediately, then closed it again. It seemed obvious that the most important thing to deal with at that time was the potion that had made her father lose his memory, but the way her mother had asked the question made her think that the most obvious answer might not be the correct one. Her mother often asked questions in that manner as a teaching opportunity. She had emphasized the word immediate and while the potion certainly had serious long term consequences, that were still greatly affecting their lives to this day, there wasn’t really anything they could have done about it at that time except anguish about it.

“The Horcrux in the vault!” she suddenly realized. Hermione nodded approvingly.

“As soon as Harry came back from burying Dobby he checked on me and then went to talk to Bill and Tonks,” she related. “They all decided that they had to move quickly to take advantage of the uncertainty of the situation with Bellatrix’s death. If she had willed everything to NarcissaMalfoy, as seemed likely since her husband and brother-in-law were both dead, then the vault key would be useless once the will was read. And the plan they came up with didn’t require my presence, so they didn’t need to wait for me to heal before they implemented it. It was really quite clever.”

-oooOOOooo-

Diagon Alley was buzzing with the news about the incredible rescue and the destruction of Malfoy Manor as a tall, dark-haired woman strode purposefully into Gringotts. She was the subject of not a few double takes, as she strongly resembled the most feared witch in the country, who was presumed to have been involved in the battle they’d just read about. But she was in fact Bellatrix Lestrange’s younger sister Andromeda (or so everyone concluded) and they quickly turned away uncomfortably, not knowing what they should say to her about what had happened.

In fact it was NymphadoraTonks, morphed to take on her mother’s appearance, who stepped up to the goblin teller, and requested to be taken to her sister’s vault. After ascertaining that she had Bellatrix’s key, the goblin called for one of the runners whose job it was to ferry customers down to the underground vaults, then cautioned the woman that she would not be allowed to remove any of the more valuable items as per the bank’s policy. In addition, he discreetly informed her that since there was some question as to whether her sister was still alive, any withdrawal of funds would be subject to recall, if her will left everything to someone else.

“I understand completely,” Tonks agreed. “In fact, this is the reason for my visit today. I have recently received information that suggests that my sister may be keeping stolen property in her vault, an ancient heirloom which may in fact belong to another prominent pureblood family. I intend to verify this before the will is read so that restitution may be made in order to avoid embarrassment to our family.”

The goblin teller nodded in satisfaction, as this course of action would prevent embarrassment for Gringotts as well. “One more thing, madam. Our sensors are detecting another presence. Is there someone accompanying you?”

“Yes, in fact, I have a bodyguard under an invisibility cloak,” she answered calmly. “One cannot be too careful in these present circumstances.” The goblin teller nodded and looked up as another goblin, who looked somewhat familiar to Harry, approached.

“Here is Griphook. He will escort you to your destination.”

Harry, still under the cloak, and Tonks followed their guide out of the main hall and into the stone passageway that led to the carts. Harry stayed close to provide invisible support for Tonks to lean on, as she was still a bit unsteady, but she had taken Pepper Up potion just before they’d left the cottage and indicated that she was doing all right.

So far everything was going according to plan. Bill had specified which teller they should approach, choosing one who was sympathetic to their cause. Apparently their guide, who he now recalled was the same goblin who’d taken him to his vault on his first visit to Gringotts, was also a supporter of the Chosen One.

The ride was longer than Harry remembered, and he concluded that the Lestrange family must have one of the higher security vaults deeper in the lower levels of the cavern. Finally the cart stopped and Tonks got out and stood with a confident air before the door while Griphook unlocked it, trying to act like this visit was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Remember not to touch anything,” Griphook whispered as they entered the large storage area and lit their wands. “There is an anti-theft curse in place. Since you are here legally, it should not be active, but it is best not to take chances. What exactly is the item that you seek?”

“A small gold cup with a badger engraved on it,” Harry answered. He had removed the cloak once they were out of sight inside the vault, and the three of them split up to begin searching.

“There it is!” he called out after a short while, shining his wandlight at the top of a shelf against the back wall. “ Accio cup!” Nothing happened and Griphook shook his head.

“Not possible. Someone will have to climb up and retrieve it. Or …” he glanced at the wizard and witch and motioned with his hand. Harry immediately caught on.

“Madam Tonks, can you levitate me up there?” Harry asked, just barely remembering not to call her only by her surname.

“I’m not sure if I’ve got the strength, and I’d hate to drop you while you were at the top. You go ahead and levitate me. Just be sure you don’t peek up my robes while I’m up there,” she added teasingly. Predictably, Harry blushed as he drew his wand. In less than a minute Tonks was back at his side, leaning against him as she caught her breath. Harry checked to make sure the cup was the real thing and then turned to Griphook.

“Master Griphook, I believe that this object carries a deadly curse,” he stated formally. “I request that it be examined, and, if that is indeed the case, destroyed.”

Griphook nodded. “Very well. I will summon a cursebreaker. I believe Mr. Weasley is on duty today.” The goblin actually winked at them as he passed along that information.

After a bit of a wait, another cart delivered Bill to the door of the vault, where Griphook met him and brought him inside. Bill cast some detection charms and quickly announced his decision – the cup did indeed carry a dark and dangerous curse.

“Is it your expert opinion that this object must be destroyed?” Griphook asked. “That its continued existence would be a danger to the customers of this bank?”

“Yes Master Griphook,” Bill responded promptly. “In fact, I am aware of another object carrying this same curse that possessed a young witch and caused her to attempt to murder several individuals.”

“Indeed, that would be an unacceptable risk,” Griphook agreed. “On behalf of Gringotts Bank I concur with your recommendation. Do you have a way that it can be destroyed safely?”

“Master Griphook, if I may?” Harry suggested as he pulled Gryffindor’s sword once more from his rucksack. “I believe that this will do the trick.”

Griphook’s eyes widened as he got a good look at the shining blade. “Mr. Potter, that is a Goblin-forged sword!”

Bill had previously informed Harry of the goblins’ peculiar thoughts on ownership of goblin made artifacts. “Yes it is, but it has bonded to me,” he replied firmly. “Even if someone else would possess it, it will come to me when I call for it.”

Griphook stared at the blade, and how easily Harry wielded it, and how the sword seemed to come alive in his hands. Realizing that Harry’s claim was true, he reluctantly he turned away, keeping his lust for the Goblin-made relic in check so that he wouldn’t do something foolish.

With a flash of reflected wandlight the blade cleaved the cup in two, and the last of Voldemort’s soul repositories was no more. The dark lord was mortal once again.

Or so they thought.

-oooOOOooo-

Rose had been listening in rapt attention to her mother’s version of the ‘raid’ on Gringotts and Hermione smiled down at her. “It was a lot more exciting the way she told it, don’t you think?” Rose blinked and looked up.

“So you never got to ride a dragon?”

Hermione shook her head and shuddered theatrically. “No, and I have absolutely no regrets about missing out on that experience. That strikes me as a very good way to end up as a dragon snack. And I’m pretty sure your father would agree with me.”

The reference to Harry turned the conversation in a more serious direction. “So when did you find out about the potion?” Rose asked solemnly.

Hermione sighed. “He waited until after the memorial services to tell me. I can understand why now, since I was in no condition to hear something like that immediately after we got back. But at the time I was furious with him.” She closed her eyes, thinking back to the day she’d received the awful news. “That was probably the worst row we ever had. It’s a good thing we had silencing charms on the tent.”

She sighed again. “And he just stood there and took it. I remember that his shoulders drooped, the way they always did when he felt that he’d disappointed me. That made me stop yelling and start crying, since I could tell that he was hurting just as much as I was. Then he straightened up again and took me in his arms. But when he spoke there was no hesitation at all in his voice.

‘I didn’t have any choice, Hermione,’ he said. ‘Don’t you see? They would have killed you! There was no doubt in my mind that Snape was deadly serious about that. I was right about him all along; he was as evil as they come.’ I didn’t really have any answer to that, so I just nodded my head. I couldn’t stop crying though and he hugged me even harder.”

“Eventually I calmed down enough so he could finish his explanation. ‘At least this way you’re still alive, and maybe you can find an antidote or something. Or maybe it won’t work or it might wear off.’ Well, he was right about that too, of course. I threw myself into that research with a greater passion than for anything I’d ever studied. At least for a while.”

“What do you mean?” Rose asked, wondering what could be more important that it would make her mother set that project aside.

“After I’d spent a solid week thinking of nothing else, Harry brought up something I’d forgotten about in my anxiety about the potion,” Hermione explained. “The other information Snape had given him right before he gave him the potion. He thought it might take my mind off the horror of the potion if we took some time to look at the memories Dumbledore had wanted him to have. But that turned out to be even worse!”

-oooOOOooo-

Hermione was crying as they emerged from the pensieve, while Harry stood in stunned silence. They had just viewed a medley of Snape’s memories of meetings with Dumbledore, ranging from when Harry had first come to Hogwarts up until shortly before the Headmaster’s death. One of them was intriguing because it was Snape’s perspective of one of Dumbledore’s memories that Harry had already seen – the destruction of the ring Horcrux – but it was the last that shocked them to their cores.

Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk and calmly explained what he theorized had really happened the night Lily Potter had sacrificed her life and the killing curse had rebounded from her young son. How Voldemort’s soul, weakened by having been split five times already, fragmented yet again, inadvertently, and without the dark lord’s knowledge had latched onto the only other living soul in the room, Harry Potter. How this gave Harry the ability to communicate with snakes, and forged the connection between their minds that neither fully understood. And how, even though every Horcrux might be destroyed, Voldemort could still not be finally defeated as long as Harry Potter lived.

“So … so Potter must die?” Snape asked in disbelief. “After all these years, when I was sworn to protect him, he has to die anyway?”

“We have protected him because it was important to teach him, to mold him into the kind of person who will do the right thing when the time comes,” Dumbledore responded with a pained expression. “We have kept him alive so that he can die at the precise moment when his death will assure Voldemort’s destruction for good.”

Snape just stared for a few long moments, and then burst out into laughter, as Dumbledore frowned at him. “The whole thing was a setup all along? You’ve been raising him like a pig for the slaughter … no, a sacrificial lamb!” Dumbledore began shaking his head in protest but Snape continued. “Can I at least be the one who kills him when the time is right?”

“Now Severus, that is unworthy of you,” the aged headmaster sighed. “Besides, it is important that Voldemort himself be the one to cast the killing curse. Due to their connection it may be possible …”

“Oh please, Headmaster, you have used him just as you have used me,” Snape interrupted. “You’ve manipulated him all his life, first housing him with those despicable relatives of his, then throwing him into all those adventures, molding him into the noble Gryffindor who will fall on his sword in a heroic death.”

Dumbledore looked more pained than ever. “I’m sorry that you feel that way Severus. It may please you to know that Miss Granger shares your opinion. But I assure you …”

Snape had had enough and rose to his feet. “You disgust me,” he spat out, and then he turned and stormed from the office.

Hermione’s tears turned into fury and she began pacing back and forth across the tent, castigating the late headmaster. “I knew it! I knew he was just setting you up to be a martyr. That’s the reason he never told you anything. That’s the reason you never had any training. That’s the reason he stuck you at the Dursley’s all those years …”

Meanwhile Harry was just standing there shaking his head. It just didn’t seem possible, but at the same time he could almost say he always knew it. After all, he was the one with the mental connection to Voldemort, he was the one who could see into the dark lord’s thoughts, he was the one who actually became the evil wizard in his dreams or visions, living out the horrors as though he were performing them himself. It was so obvious now – it was because he had a piece of Tom Riddle’s soul dwelling inside him. And … it followed then that the only way to defeat Voldemort was for him to die.

He shook his head – he wasn’t ready to deal with that concept quite yet – and then became aware of Hermione’s simmering rage. She was now to the point where she was choosing which curses she was going to use to incinerate Dumbledore’s portrait the next time they were in the Headmasters office. Instinctively he tried to calm her down, striding up to her and wrapping his arms around her. She struggled for a bit, but eventually relaxed against him.

“Oh Harry, now what are we going to do?” she cried. “It wasn’t enough before, but now this too?” Something about that phrasing caught Harry’s attention.

“Wait a minute,” he burst out. “If Snape knew I was going to die, why would he need to give me the potion?” He stepped back and ran his hand through his hair while trying to recall the scene in the Malfoy cellar, and exactly what Snape had said, while Hermione held her breath, hoping against hope.

“I think he said, ‘if I survive’,” he finally concluded. “What do you think, Hermione? Is there some way I can die but not really die? Or that thesoul fragment could die without me dying? Or maybe – could the Deathly Hallows have something to do with it?”

Hermione’s eyes sparkled through her remaining tears as she threw her arms around Harry’s neck and kissed him passionately. Then she drew away, the familiar glint of determination now replacing the anguish of hopelessness in those same eyes.

“Research!” she declared firmly.

-oooOOOooo-

“If you remember, in the book she wrote that those next few months were a time when Harry was slowly sinking into despair, and almost seemed to be giving up on ever finding another Horcrux, while Ron and I tried to keep him going,” Hermione pointed out. “Well, as you can see now, there certainly was reason for despair, but it wasn’t the same at all. There were times when I felt like giving up, and Harry kept me going, and other times when he got so frustrated with the whole thing and I had to boost his spirits. And while there was always the temptation to sink into depression about the situation, we just determined to keep fighting as long as we could.”

Rose nodded her head that she understood. Her admiration for her mother and father was now greater than ever. Hermione continued, “Believe me, we tried everything – I even brewed Draught of Living Death and gave it to him, to see if that would somehow kill the soul fragment, after which I could revive Harry. It put him into a coma for a week but as soon as he came out of it he could tell that the connection was still active. That was probably the lowest point of that entire time period.”

“How many other people did you tell?” Rose inquired.

“Good question,” her mother responded approvingly. “We didn’t tell anyone about the potion, because there wasn’t really anything that could be done about it and we didn’t want to give them any more to worry about at that time. Besides, he had no symptoms at all – if Snape hadn’t told him what it was there would have been no way of us knowing anything was amiss. Snape managed to tie it to Voldemort’s essence somehow, so that it wouldn’t begin to take effect until the soul fragment left Harry.”

Hermione had to smile at the sight of her daughter biting her lower lip in concentration, as she focused intently on understanding everything she was being told. Rose was so much like she had been at that age, probably even more mature though. Certainly less naive about some things.

“As for the other part, about the soul fragment being in Harry, we told Ron and Remus and Tonks. Remus worked on finding a solution as hard as I did. Tonks, once she recovered enough, took over his task of keeping track of Voldemort’s movements. We’d already decided that we were going to try to ambush him when he came to Hogwarts to get Dumbledore’s wand, so we needed to be aware of his progress on the continent, how close he was getting to finding out about Grindelwald. Now, unfortunately, we had an additional complication in how that confrontation was going to play out. Not to mention the surprising twist regarding the Wand itself.”

“What was that?” Rose asked, before realizing what the unforeseen development might be. “Oh, you mean who the actual master of the Wand was?”

“Right!” Hermione nodded, somewhat surprised, but also proud that her daughter had worked that out quicker than she had at the time, as she leafed through the notebook to find the entry where she’d recorded the discovery.

-oooOOOooo-

From the Journal of Hermione Granger – February 2

Well, this was unexpected. It makes perfect sense now that we think about it, but somehow it never occurred to us. I’m the master of the Wand of Destiny!

We were talking about Voldemort’s pursuit of the Wand today, and Harry decided to get it out and see how it would respond to him now that he’d defeated Snape. To his surprise it didn’t feel any different for him than it had before. After he tried a few spells with it he handed it to me to look it over and see if I could figure out what was wrong with it. As soon as I touched it I could feel a surge of energy! It responded to me perfectly! And when I cast some spells with it – oh my! The feeling of power is almost intoxicating. I can better understand now why so many have killed in order to possess this wand.

Of course, then we had to sit down and figure out what had happened. Suddenly Harry hit himself on the forehead and groaned loudly, “Why didn’t I think of that before!” You see, we’d all been focusing on Snape since he was the one who killed Dumbledore, but Harry told us that Draco Malfoy actually disarmed Dumbledore on top of the tower that night before Snape arrived. So at that point the mastery of the Wand must have passed to Malfoy, even though he never actually possessed it. The key is that you either kill the previous master or best him in combat while he is using the Wand. So, when I killed Malfoy that made me the new master of the Wand. It wouldn’t have happened if I’d just disarmed him, since he wasn’t using the Wand at the time. Not that I regret killing the bastard.

I immediately offered to duel Harry with the Wand, and let him disarm me, so that he’d be the new master as we’d planned. But he said no, that it might be better now if I remain the master. I saw right away what he was saying. If he does indeed need to die at Voldemort’s hand in order to destroy the soul fragment inside him (and I haven’t given up yet on finding a way around that!) then we don’t want him to be the master of the Wand, as that would make Voldemort the new Master. After everything we’ve gone through to prevent that from happening, we certainly don’t want to risk it at the most critical moment in the battle.

-0x0x0-

From the Journal of Hermione Granger – March 10

We’ve moved our tent into the ForbiddenForest. We’re perfectly safe here, since Harry and I have put several layers of protective enchantments around us. Tonks reported in on the mirror today that Voldemort had been to see Gregorovitch, and learned that he had known the location of the wand, and that Grindelwald had apprenticed with him. Now we expect that he’s on his way to Nurmengard to visit Grindelwald. The detection rune I left there will let us know when he leaves there. So soon it will be over, one way or the other.

I’m not terribly fond of our plan, but it’s the best we’ve come up with. Harry will intercept Voldemort out near Dumbledore’s tomb, and plans to maneuver him into hitting him with a killing curse. We’re not sure what will happen next. Given the way Dumbledore was insistent that Voldemort himself had to do it, we think it may be that only the soul fragment will be destroyed. Or there may be some feedback that will kill both of them. But the way he started to say, ‘It may be possible …’ leads us to think that Harry might survive somehow.

In addition, Harry remembered that Dumbledore had a strange reaction to hearing that Voldemort had used Harry’s blood in his resurrection ritual. We watched his memory of that scene in the pensieve, and he was right – Dumbledore had a look of triumph. It may just be that they are more firmly linked now, and that when Harry dies Voldemort will too. But we prefer to remain optimistic.

Failing that, our fallback is the ring with the Resurrection Stone. We finally got it out of the snitch. It popped open when I used the Wand of Destiny on it. I think that’s either because they are related, both being part of the Deathly Hallows, or more likely because it was the Wand that sealed it inside the snitch in the first place. At any rate, if Harry does die, I can bring him back with the Stone. I know the legend says that’s dangerous, but if it’s the only way I can be with him then I’ll take it!

The other part of the plan is that I’ll be there with Harry, under the invisibility cloak, holding both the ring and the Wand. Somehow when the three Hallows are together they seem to strengthen each other, since not even the strongest detection spells we know will reveal my presence under the cloak. We’ve tested this out quite thoroughly, as one might expect.

So once Harry – or I should say the final soul fragment – is destroyed, I’ll kill Voldemort if Harry is dead, or I’ll incapacitate him and hold him for Harry to kill him if he’s still alive.

Another distressingpart of our plan is that Ron is insisting on being at Harry’s side when he confronts Voldemort. Harry, of course, remembers what happened to Cedric in a similar situation, and doesn’t want Ron anywhere near there. It would be truly tragic if Harry somehow survives only to have Ron get killed.

It’s been very difficult writing about these thoughts, but I’ve been putting off recording them long enough. So many nights the past two months we’ve held each other and cried together. No matter what we wished for, we can’t change what’s happened; we just have to deal with it. We’re both tired of all the grief and heartache and ready for whatever is going to happen, to happen. Like I already wrote – one way or the other it will end soon.

I have another plan of my own for tonight. I just have to persuade Harry. It will definitely be with his knowledge – I’m not going to get pregnant without telling him.

As they got ready for bed that night, Harry could tell that Hermione was anxious about something – more so than usual. Although it might have just been increased anxiety for the upcoming confrontation, this seemed different, almost as if she was shy about some topic she wanted to talk about.

As they settled into bed, Harry put his arm around her and she pressed her body up against his side, both of them relishing the skin to skin contact. “What’s on your mind?” he asked as he pressed an encouraging kiss to her shoulder.

Hermione pulled back a little to look at him as her fingers nervously traced up and down his arm. A tentative smile crept onto her face. “You know me pretty well,” she remarked apprehensively. Harry just smiled back in acknowledgement, silently urging her to continue.

“I want to have a baby.” As soon as she’d blurted it out, she held her breath waiting for his reaction. His smile changed to a puzzled frown.

“Well, so do I, but what makes you bring that up right now?” he wondered.

“I mean I want to cancel the contraceptive charm, right here, tonight,” she explained, her words tumbling out in a nervous rush. “I want to get pregnant right now. I don’t want to take the chance that you’ll … you’ll …” Tears filled her eyes as she couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud.

Harry tightened his arm around her and pulled her back into his side, stroking her hair gently with his other hand as her head came to rest on his chest.

“So if I don’t make it, or if, well, something else happens so that I’m not with you any more, you’ll at least have our child to … sort of to remember me by,” he reasoned slowly.

“Not just to remember you, it means a part of you would still be with me, a part of each of us, together in a new life,” she clarified nervously, worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

“I agree,” Harry declared more firmly. He felt Hermione’s body relax against his as she let loose the breath she was holding and her tension eased. “I think the thing that’s bothered me most is that you’ll be so sad and lonely. Having a baby to love and cherish and raise – it will give you something, not to replace me exactly, but …”

“Yes, that’s precisely it!” Hermione agreed. “Oh Harry, I’m so glad you understand.” She punctuated her declaration with the tightest hug she could manage.

“So, what do we need to do?” Harry asked, before realizing almost immediately how obvious the answer to his question was and blushing slightly. “I mean …”

“Don’t worry, I know what you mean,” Hermione smiled as she sat up and reached for their wands. “First, we have to reverse the contraception ritual, and then we have to do another that will ensure that I’ll get pregnant. She spread her legs wide and her smile grew as a glance down at Harry revealed his rising excitement with the process. Baring herself to him once more, she had him remove the rune in her pubic region while she spoke an incantation. Then she hesitated a moment and blushed a bit herself.

“You have to actually put your wand inside me a bit for the next part,” she stated as calmly as she could.

“Yeah, we’ve done this enough that I have a pretty good idea of where my wand goes, Hermione,” he teased.

As expected, she turned even redder. “Not that wand, you prat,” she pretended to scold, as the corners of her mouth turned up. Your magic wand.”

“Well, I do seem to recall several times when you said it was like magic,” he commented with a leer. Hermone just shook her head and huffed, even as her smile grew. She was well aware that he was trying to ease the tension, and she loved him for it.

“Very well, Mr. Potter,” she announced, adopting a prim, proper, lecturing style, betrayed only by the grin on her face. “You will insert the tip of your holly and phoenix feather wand into my vagina and cast the spell that I am about to teach you while I inscribe a rune on my abdomen, directly over my uterus. Is that clear enough?”

“Sounds good to me,” Harry grinned back. “What’s the spell?”

Upon completion of this delicate procedure, both of them were even more aroused, and beginning to breathe heavily.

“Harry,” she gasped. “I think it’s time for you to get that other wand inside me where it belongs.”

“Right,” was as much as he could manage as he maneuvered himself closer toher. Then he paused. “Any particular position?”

“Just make love to me Harry,” she moaned.

“My pleasure.”

 

Some time later they lay cuddled in each other’s arms, temporarily blocking out the rest of the world in their contentment. An idea had come to Harry over the last few minutes and now he voiced his thoughts.

“Hermione?”

“Hmmm?”

“I want to get married,” he revealed.

Hermione raised her head and looked at him. “Well, of course, so do I.”

“I mean right now,” he explained. “Today. Well, actually tomorrow I suppose. But as soon as possible. I want to make sure this baby is mine, you know, legally and everything.”

Hermione leaned back and snuggled up against him again. “Oh Harry, I love you so much. You’re right of course. But there’s no way we can have a marriage ceremony on such short notice.” She thought for a moment. “But I suppose we could do the bonding part at least.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Harry agreed. “Mr. Delacour told us any wizard could perform the bonding.”

“Ron?”

“Yep.”

Hermione closed her eyes and smiled. There would at least be a couple of happy memories of this episode in their lives. “Good plan,” she confirmed.

Harry wasn’t finished. “Hermione?”

“Yes, love?” she responded, not opening her eyes.

“Remember the movie we saw, Titanic ?” Hermione nodded against his chest. She had actually thought about that more than once – the parallels to their situation. “If I … if I don’t make it, I want you to live your life like Rose did. I’m not saying you shouldn’t mourn for me but please don’t just waste away in mourning. You have so much talent – you should do all the things you can. Live life to the fullest. Change the world for the better. And raise our child to be the same incredible kind of person you are.” Harry could feel her warm tears trickling down his chest, and tightened his hold on his lover. “Promise me that, please?”

Hermione nodded again, and somehow managed to find her voice. “I promise.”

 

Harry awoke to find Hermione sitting up in the bed next to him writing in her journal. As she was still completely nude, and the covers had slid down to her waist, he lay still and enjoyed the view until she noticed that he was awake. She shot him a smile that was almost literally glowing.

“Good morning Mrs. Potter,” he announced with a grin. A shiver shot down Hermione’s spine as she nearly melted with delight. Harry sat up and pulled her onto his lap for a long kiss.

Feeling a certain part of his body pressed against her thigh, Hermione broke the kiss with a sly smile. “Ready for another go at it this morning?”

Harry pretended to frown. “You mean last night wasn’t enough? We have to do it again?”

Hermione played along. “Well, it’s supposed to work the first time, but it never hurts to be thorough, does it? I think we should approach this just as seriously as any assignment. You know how I like to be as complete as possible about everything.”

Harry snorted. This was the girl who wasn’t satisfied unless she got better than 100 percent on her exams, after all. “So what were you thinking?”

Hermione’s smile grew. “Oh, I think every morning and every night at the least, don’t you?”

Harry chuckled as he began to stroke a particularly sensitive, and rather intimate, place on her body, eliciting a moan. “Sounds good to me.”

 

Ron looked up as Harry and Hermione emerged from their room to join him in the living area of the tent, surprised that they were so late getting up. He was never the first one ready in the morning. Then he noticed the beaming smile on Hermione’s face, which was rather unusual these days, and that it was reflected in Harry’s expression as well.

“What are you two so happy about?”

Hermione was practically bouncing up and down on her toes. “We’re going to get married!”

Ron looked puzzled. “Well, yeah, I already knew that. You told me last summer. Plus, that ring you’re wearing is a bit of a clue.”

“Actually, we decided to do the bonding ceremony today,” Harry added. “And we want you to perform the bonding for us.”

“Bloody hell!” was the predictable response from their best friend. “Why now of all times?”

Hermione shot a dazzling smile at Harry and then turned to Ron. “Because I’m going to have a baby.”

“BLOODY HELL!!!”

-oooOOOooo-

Rose clapped her hands with delight at finally hearing the part of the story she’d been looking forward to, and Hermione smiled at her.

“That must have been quite a shock for Ron,” the young girl observed with a grin.

“Oh my yes,” her mother replied. “He walked around in a fog for most of the day, with the odd ‘Bloody hell’ popping out every now and then.”

A thoughtful look passed across Rose’s face. “That part Daddy mentioned about the movie. Was that where my name came from?”

Hermione nodded. “Partly. We wanted a flower name in honor of his mother Lily, and Rose seemed the obvious choice.”

Rose continued. “And what you promised – it’s been kind of tough since he isn’t really gone, but we’ve done pretty well in keeping it, don’t you think? We’ve been lots of places and done lots of things.”

Hermione hugged her daughter to herself. “Things never go exactly how you’d like them to, but you have to make the best of the situation you find yourself in. I haven’t made much of a mark on the world yet, but there’s still time for that. Raising you has been my first priority, that and trying to find a cure for your father.”

“And you will, someday,” Rose assured her. “And you’ve been the absolute best mum ever. And Daddy’s been a good dad too, as much as he can.”

Hermione needed to wipe the tears from her eyes once again. “OK, enough self-congratulations. Do you want to hear how it finally ended?” Rose nodded eagerly and they settled back against the sofa while Hermione opened the notebook once more.

-oooOOOooo-

Harry and Hermione walked along the shoreline of the lake, staying near the great white tomb of Albus Dumbledore. Under the invisibility cloak, his arm around her shoulder, hers around his waist, they said little, but communicated much. Today was going to be the day.

That morning the detection rune they’d left at Nurmengard Prison had triggered, and a short time later Harry had received a surge of emotion through his scar connection – a feeling of triumph and glee. Voldemort had discovered Grindelwald’s secret and was no doubt now on his way to Hogwarts.

A few hours later Tonks communicated with them on the mirror, confirming that the current dark lord had killed the previous one, along with several prison guards. She was now also on her way back to Britain, but would likely not arrive in time for the confrontation.

A confirmation of sorts was received when Magorian, the leader of the centaur herd in the ForbiddenForest, sought him out at the edge of the woods and noted that Mars was now shining as brightly as they’d ever seen it. Harry acknowledged that he believed that this would be the pivotal night of the war. Magorian pledged to defend the forest, but would commit to no more beyond that. Harry expressed his appreciation for whatever aid they were willing to provide.

As the shadows lengthened and the afternoon crept on toward evening, it was apparent that Voldemort would wait for the cover of darkness, which they expected. The fact that it was Friday the 13th, and a full moon, was not lost on them either. Remus would not be available, but Voldemort’s werewolf allies would.

The issue of Ron’s participation in the battle was resolved when Hermione pointed out that he knew too much. Since they were tricking Voldemort, they couldn’t take the chance that he’d use Legilimency to discover the plot. If he were to learn that Hermione was nearby, with the Elder Wand, it would be disastrous. Obliviating Ron of that information, as he’d first suggested, wouldn’t work either as then he might be tempted to throw himself in front of a killing curse aimed at Harry. If this happened he’d be giving up his life for nothing, and it would be completely counterproductive, since the idea was that Harry had to be hit with the killing curse in order to destroy the last soul fragment.

So Ron was instead stationed at the top of the quidditch stadium with a pair of omnioculars and a broomstick. It would be his task to keep watch, not only for Voldemort’s arrival but for any allies he might bring along. And, as far as he was concerned, to do whatever he could to prevent the interference of the latter. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, as Harry was convinced that this was something Voldemort would want to do alone.

After he’d retrieved the Wand, however, anything could happen. Accordingly, Hedwig would be sent off to Shacklebolt at the Ministry as soon as Voldemort arrived, so that he could bring reinforcements to deal with whatever followup attack the dark lord was planning. McGonagall and Flitwick had also been notified, and were ready to take whatever measures were necessary to protect their students.

Once darkness fell, Harry and Hermione stopped walking and settled down between the tomb and the lake and just held each other. Harry’s stomach was tied up in knots, moreso than it had been prior to any quidditch match he’d ever played in. How did one prepare to die? Hermione’s head was buried in his chest, and she was unable to hold back her tears. She was trying to console herself with thoughts of all the happy times they’d had together, but it wasn’t working. If she lost him she knew the hole in her heart could never be filled.

An alarm sounded as Voldemort flew over the gates. The lovers shared a kiss that both desperately hoped would not be their last, and Harry slipped out from under the invisibility cloak. As he disillusioned himself, Hermione adjusted his memory, so that he would remember their last kiss as having occurred as he left her in the tent to go into battle alone. Then he walked around the white structure that glistened in the moonlight and waited for his foe, while she quietly moved off to her own position, completely invisible and undetectable.

The grounds of Hogwarts were deserted, as the dark lord had known they would be. It was the dinner hour, and everyone was in the Great Hall, including Hagrid. He fully intended to be in and out quickly, retrieving the coveted wand before anyone inside the castle could react to his presence. After all, the standard initial response to an intruder alarm was to lock down the castle and secure the students, and then investigate, which he knew well from his time as Head Boy. He had great plans for this place, after his final victory, and the first would be to destroy the gleaming sepulchre before him, to symbolize his ultimate triumph over the defenders of the light. But for now, he only needed to open the tomb and retrieve his prize.

But as he approached the final resting place of his long-time nemesis, he could sense that he was not alone. The air between him and the white monument shimmered as a disillusionment charm was dropped, and he could not believe his good fortune. There, standing before him, evidently in an attempt to thwart him once again, was none other than Harry Potter.

“Good evening Tom,” Harry spoke with more confidence than he felt. “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to go any farther.”

“Potter,” the dark lord hissed in annoyance. “Do you really think you can stop me?” He stretched out his senses to see if any additional foes awaited, but could detect no other magical presence. “By yourself? You may be brave, but you are also very, very foolish.” Finding Potter here waiting for him was unexpected, but he was prepared this time. Both wizards drew their wands.

“Crucio!” The evil one wanted to see the despised Boy Who Lived suffer for his arrogance, and for all the times he’d thwarted him. Killing him quickly was not satisfying enough. But Harry did not try to block his first strike, or shield, instead diving to the ground so that the spell impacted on the white marble behind him. Rather, he launched a counterstrike of his own, sending a bone-breaking hex at his surprised opponent.

Voldemort reacted quickly, blocking the unexpected attack, and the two bitter enemies began trading spells. Red, blue, yellow, and silver flashes flew back and forth, and the experience of the older man quickly asserted itself, as his spells were just a bit quicker, and considerably more powerful. A particular nasty flame curse had Harry backed up against the wall, putting everything into a shield charm, but a followup blasting hex shattered it, dropping him to his knees.

Now the dark lord knew victory was imminent and he raised his yew and phoenix feather wand once more. “Crucio!” But Harry wasn’t finished yet. The pause had been enough for him to ready the final part of his strategy and he cast his specialty, a powerful nonverbal disarming hex, intercepting the unforgivable as it emerged from the brother wand to his own. Expelliarmus!

Once more the wands linked, once more the golden cage formed, once more the phoenix song sounded. But this time neither of the combatants was surprised. For his part, Harry had agreed to a suggestion from Hermione that the linkage of the wands might somehow enhance the possibility of his survival. The other idea was to draw out the conflict, but with as little injury to Harry as could be managed, possibly weakening Voldemort, and also pushing him into deciding on a quick end to the battle.

Voldemort, on the other hand, had decided on a different strategy, accepting the prospect of the brother wands joining again. For while it took his preferred wand out of play, it also negated Potter’s primary advantage – the dominance that the holly wand had established on that fateful night in the graveyard. Darting his left hand into his robes, he withdrew a recent acquisition – another phoenix feather wand, a prized creation of the famed wandcrafterGregorovitch, obtained just before he’d killed him. But before he could cast a spell with it, Harry had a second wand of his own out and ready to go, this one Hermione’s, with which he was nearly as proficient as his own.

The dark lord’s irritation grew, as did his impatience. Potter had clearly been practicing during the time he’d been hiding, although the boy was still no match for his own prodigious skills. But when Harry was able to shield against his initial disarming attempt and block some of his followup curses, he decided that time was running short. He needed to end this and get the wand he’d come for.

Harry knew that the time had come by the expression on his opponent’s face, and mentally prepared himself for whatever his fate might be.

“Avada Kedavra!”

 

 

Darkness.

Light.

Harry blinked as he gradually became aware of his surroundings. OK, this was different. So is this what it’s like to be dead? At least he wasn’t in any pain. Slowly things began to come into focus and the unending light started to resolve into a white room. He was lying down on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He sat up and immediately noticed that he was naked. And that it didn’t seem to bother him, certainly not like it had that time in …

The room suddenly changed and he was in a sauna. Not just any sauna but the one in the Lovegood home. By himself. Only this time with no towel.

Hmm. Were his surroundings controlled by his thoughts? How about a warm, sunny meadow? The scene shifted again, and he was sitting in a field of tall grass under a blue sky. He got up and looked around.

OK. Some people would be nice.

No change.

So, he could control his surroundings but couldn’t add people. How about a quidditch pitch? He found himself in the middle of an empty stadium with three goals at each end. But still no people. A broom would be useful. Instantly, a brand new Firebolt was in his hand. He mounted the broom and took a few laps around the pitch. He noticed that flying a broom naked felt … different.

But flying around in an empty stadium, while enjoyable, was somewhat unfulfilling. It seemed like there was something else he was supposed to be doing.

Voldemort !

He suddenly found himself back in the plain white room, only this time he wasn’t alone. Seated on a bench against one wall was a boy, roughly his age or perhaps a bit younger, wearing Hogwarts robes. He was staring straight ahead and gave no evidence that he was aware of Harry’s presence. His expression was absolutely blank. No fear, no anxiety, no curiosity. No smile, no frown, no puzzlement. Nothing. As Harry looked closer he recognized the familiar face. It was the sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle.

Hearing someone approaching behind him Harry spun around to encounter one of the last people he would have expected. SibyllTrelawny. She was wearing those hideous oversize glasses with the magnifying lenses, her typical gauzy shawl – and nothing else. OK, I really didn’t need to see that!

As soon as that thought was completed she was draped in a plain white robe, apparently in response to his thoughts. Now he realized that he was still naked as well, and wished that he had one of those robes too. And immediately, he did.

His former professor took no notice of the state of their dress, either before or after, but greeted him in exactly the same odd voice she’d used in class. “Good day Mr. Potter. How nice of you to join us.” It occurred to Harry that she might be a product of his mind, and that her appearance, voice, and mannerisms were no more and no less than he expected them to be.

“Erm … hello,” he responded awkwardly. Is this … am I … ah, is this heaven?” Even as he voiced these words it occurred to him that it most likely wasn’t – Tom Riddle was here after all. But it didn’t really seem like hell either, at least not yet.

“Not exactly,” she intoned in that ominous breathy voice. “I am here to greet you and obtain your decision on whether you wish to go on or go back.”

“Go back? You mean … I’ve got a choice?” he asked in surprise. Trelawny nodded.

Harry looked around, wondering if there was anyone else he could talk to about this decision he had to make. His mother and father would be here, and Sirius … but not Hermione. Even though he longed to finally meet his parents he realized immediately that he would rather be with her. But … because of Snape’s potion, would he even know her if he went back?

“Uh, not to be rude or anything, but, well, why are you here?” Harry asked haltingly. “I mean, I would have expected to see my mum or dad, or maybe Sirius, or Dumbledore.” Trelawny was shaking her head.

“Your Greeter must be someone you know, but with whom you had no emotional attachment. It’s also preferable that it be one who died recently. XenophiliusLovegood was the other possibility.” She shrugged as if to say she didn’t really care one way or the other.

“So, can you tell me what will happen if I go back?” he inquired.

“If you return you shall need to slay Tom Riddle,” she intoned in that fake prophecy voice she so often used. “Beyond that I cannot say – your decisions will affect future events.”

“What if I stay?” Harry couldn’t resist asking the obvious followup.

The batty professor waved her arm and the wall next to them cleared, seeming to become a giant viewing screen. The scene was initially filled with mist, but it soon dissipated to reveal a giant red steam engine – the Hogwarts Express. Into the picture walked a young girl holding the hand of a woman with curly brown hair, and he choked back a cry as he realized first that it was Hermione, and then that the girl must be their daughter.

The pair embraced in a lingering farewell, and the girl boarded the train, waving goodbye to her mother. The view shifted and zoomed in on Hermione’s face. Harry recognized several emotions – pride, sadness, longing … and above all loneliness. And he realized that it was because he was missing from their lives.

His decision made, Harry turned away from the wall and spotted Tom Riddle still sitting in the exact same position, still staring blankly straight ahead. He shot an inquiring look at Trelawny and she nodded, as if she already knew his question without it being asked.

“He is in that form because it was the last time in his life that his soul was whole,” she explained. “We do not deal with fragments of souls here.”

“Does he have a choice too?” Harry wondered.

“He made his decision the instant he arrived,” Trelawny revealed. “He fears death above all else. Now he sits in limbo awaiting your decision. Since your souls were linked when you arrived, you must return together.” She cocked her head at him thoughtfully. “I do not think he realizes what awaits him upon his return.”

Her explanation immediately raised a question in Harry’s mind. “So, are we still linked? I mean, the part of him that was in me, is it gone?”

His host adopted a faraway look and intoned once more, “You are free.”

 

Hermione had been watching in agony as the tableau by the tomb played out before her. Several times she had to force herself not to intervene, to spare Harry from the excruciating pain of the now familiar Cruciatus , or another equally devastating injury. Her pride in him reached new heights as he unwaveringly took on his opponent and accepted his fate, and she too recognized the moment when it arrived. She bit her lip to keep from screaming when the dreaded words were spoken. Avada Kedavra !

Her feet were moving her forward before the green streak had even connected. The invisibility cloak opened slightly and the Wand of Destiny was raised and ready. But the emerald beam dissipated as soon as it impacted on her beloved, a diffuse glow washed over him, and then his scar blazed bright white. Simultaneously a scream issued forth and the green glow gathered back together and burst from his wand, traveling back toward his foe along the connecting thread in a kind of magical feedback. The golden cage of light disintegrated in a blinding flash. Once she could see again she spotted two figures sprawled out on the ground – both combatants had fallen.

She quickly closed the gap and crouched down by Harry, feeling for a pulse with one hand while aiming her wand at Voldemort, not taking her eyes off their deadly enemy. Her heart caught in her throat as she initially detected nothing. But … even though her physical senses told her he was dead, somehow she could feel that he was not. She was now the Master of Death, and this magic was telling her that despite all evidence to the contrary, neither of these unmoving forms had completely departed this world.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Ron streaking toward them on his broom. Pulling up and jumping off as soon he reached her, he ran forward with his wand out.

“Is it over? Did you kill him yet?” he gasped, trying to catch his breath as he dropped to his knees at the side of his best mate. “What about Harry? Is he …?”

Hermione withdrew her hand from its futile quest for a pulse and moved it to Ron’s shoulder in a calming gesture. “No, not yet,” she replied in a low voice.

Seeing that her wand was still leveled at Voldemort’s prone figure, albeit shakily, Ron looked up at her in puzzlement. “Why not? What are you waiting for?”

“I don’t think either of them is dead, but I do think they’re linked somehow,” she explained haltingly. “I’m afraid that if I kill Voldemort it might also kill Harry.”

“So what do we do now?” Ron wondered.

“We wait.” Rising to her feet, she thought for a moment, then cast Petrificus Totalus on the dark lord’s body, and tied him up for good measure. She then systematically summoned any spare wands, portkeys, or other magical items that he might have hidden on him, taking care not to touch anything that emerged. The wands she shrink-wrapped with some conjured plastic and banished back to their tent in the ForbiddenForest. The other two unknown items she sealed in a jar and had Ron toss them into a shallow part of the lake near the shoreline, where they could be retrieved later. Then she sat down by Harry again.

Crossing her legs, she pulled his head onto her lap and took his hand, pressing it between hers. It was cold as ice. A tear emerged from her eye, and slowly tracked down her cheek. “Come back to me, Harry,” she whispered. “Please come back.”

Ron shifted uneasily, not wanting to intrude on what was becoming an intensely personal moment. Sensing this, Hermione had an idea. “Ron, I have a feeling that this isn’t over yet. He might have planned an attack once he retrieved the Wand. Maybe you should get back up into the air and keep an eye on things.” Ron quickly agreed, mounted his broom and sped away. Hermione returned to her vigil.

 

She had no idea how much time had passed, but suddenly Hermione sensed that something was changing. Her eyes widened as she literally felt the life return to Harry’s body, and at the same time his hand began to grow warm in her grasp. Raising it to her lips, she began pressing relieved kisses onto it, while waiting anxiously. Finally he moaned, and it was the most joyful sound she’d ever heard.

“Harry! Oh Harry, you’re back!” she nearly squealed. Harry’s eyes fluttered open and as soon as he’d managed to focus on her face, he smiled as her heart practically tore itself out of her ribcage. Then he remembered what he had to do and quickly glanced around. There, lying on the ground ten feet away, was the person he had to kill.

Harry sat up and Hermione jumped to her feet to help him stand, as he was rather woozy. Seeing the questioning look in his eyes, she quickly reversed the memory charm so he’d remember why she was there beside him. He blinked once and nodded to her and then turned his gaze back to Voldemort.

Taking in the dark lord’s appearance more fully, he noticed the thoroughness with which his wife (wife!) had incapacitated their enemy. Next, looking into those glowing red eyes he saw nothing but hatred – no doubt, no second thoughts, no remorse. Turning back to Hermione, they shared a look and both knew what must be done.

Hermione kept her wand trained on their fallen foe while Harry summoned the Sword of Gryffindor from his rucksack. Deciding that she really didn’t want to have to look into those hate-filled eyes any longer, she silently shot a stunning spell at Voldemort, and his body went limp. Harry walked up and paused, his mind filling with thoughts of all the pain that this detestable being had caused him during his life, but was now about to be avenged once and for all.

Hermione moved up beside him and took his hand in hers, sharing with him her strength for the deed he was about to perform. He glanced over at her and then shifted so that her right hand joined his on the hilt of the historic blade. Another idea came to him and he called for Ron to join them. Then, together, the three of them raised the sword, and together plunged it into the chest of the evil creature lying at their feet.

A wave of magic nearly knocked them down, but they stood their ground, holding the gleaming blade in place while it completed its task. A red glow surrounded the magically constructed body that was but an ugly mimic of flesh and blood, and soon died out as the wave of magic subsided.

It was finally over. Voldemort’s reign had come to an end, on the grounds of Hogwarts where had begun some fifty years before. Harry Potter, this time with the help of his best friends, had defeated the dark lord one last time.

-oooOOOooo-

Hermione opened her eyes. She had closed them while recounting the scene when she had sat by Harry, holding his head in her lap, willing him to come back to her. She could still vividly picture that scene and what had followed, including the emotions she had felt, without the need of any notes, even now, nearly twelve years later.

A long exhalation beside her revealed that her daughter had been holding her breath, anxious to hear that the evil wizard she’d only read about in books had truly been defeated. A sheepish smile crossed the young girl’s face, she being somewhat chagrinned that she’d worried for her mother and father’s fate, even though she knew that they’d survived the battle.

Rose, of course, had questions. “Didn’t Voldemort know that even if he did steal the Wand from Dumbledore’s tomb it still wouldn’t work for him, since he hadn’t defeated the previous owner?”

Hermione nodded approvingly of her daughter’s insight. “Arrogance was always Voldemort’s biggest weakness. There were some things that he thought were beneath him, so he didn’t bother learning about them. We think that once he learned that there was an all-powerful wand, he just assumed that it would be a natural match for him, since he was also all-powerful. He simply didn’t bother himself to learn of the details of the legend of the Deathly Hallows. Also, Ollivander was clever enough to reveal the existence of the Wand while leaving out that important detail.”

Rose accepted that explanation with a slight nod, and then asked, “So was that the end of it? I thought there was a big battle?”

Hermione sighed and shook her head sadly. “There was, and it was terrible. So many people died, and all for nothing, really, since Voldemort had already been defeated. It was very difficult for us especially, since we were so elated at the thought that it was finally over, only to have to turn around and start fighting again.”

“So what happened?” Rose asked anxiously.

“He must have had the attack prearranged,” Hermione replied. “Just a few minutes after we’d killed him, and hugged each other like crazy in relief and excitement, there was a massive crack as the gates of Hogwarts were destroyed. A whole army of giants, trolls, vampires, werewolves, and his remaining Death Eaters apparated or portkeyed in at Hogsmeade Station. Then the giants tore right through the gates, even though they were supposed to be protected by powerful wards. You see, the strength of the wards at Hogwarts is tied to the magical power of the Headmaster, and it turns out that Umbridge was a rather mediocre witch, so they were severely weakened.”

Seeing that Rose understood that point, Hermione continued. “Well, Ron went back up on his broom to gain us critical surveillance information, while Harry and I got back under the invisibility cloak. We knew, even with the Wand of Destiny, that the two of us were no match for an entire army. So we moved around as best we could, trying to take out the Death Eaters who were leading the assault as Ron pointed them out to us. However, that just took too long, and we could see that the castle was going to be overwhelmed. So I had the idea that we should try to show them that Voldemort had already been defeated.”

“Harry levitated his body into the air over Dumbledore’s tomb and lit a bright fire under him so everyone could see him. I put an unbreakable shield charm around him with the Wand so that no one could get him down or even get at him. Of course, that distracted the Death Eaters and vampires quite a bit. The vampires, who were only in the battle for their own personal gain, had no interest in fighting for the losing side, and immediately deserted. Many of the werewolves, who were only fighting out of fear of Voldemort, tried to escape into the woods. The centaurs got most of them.” Hermione shook her head, saddened at the unnecessary loss of life for these poor souls, most of whom had been decent people suffering from a horrible affliction, and could have been treated if only the Ministry of Magic had not condemned them as dark creatures.

“And the students – that was the saddest part,” Hermione sniffed. “The teachers tried to sneak them out of the castle through the secret tunnels into Hogsmeade, but some Death Eaters were there waiting for them, and opened fire as soon as they emerged. A dozen or more of the youngest students were killed in the first few minutes and scores of them were injured. As soon as they heard what was happening, Neville and Susan led the DA racing down the tunnels to protect them. They saved as many as they could, and secured the other ends of the tunnels, but that just meant that the rest were still trapped in the castle.

“How did it finally end?” Rose asked quickly, seeing how distressed her mother was becoming.

“Gawain Robards and Kingsley Shacklebolt showed up with as many Aurors as they could spare, along with the remaining Order members, and that began to turn the tide,” she revealed. But they came in from Hogsmeade, and had to fight their way toward the castle. By that time the giants had already inflicted horrible damage. The way they fight is just brutal. Remember, when they have defeated an opponent they tear his head off. That’s what happened to Grawp when he tried to fight back. Harry and I were just barely able to get Hagrid away from them after they knocked him out, before they could kill him too.”

She snorted in disgust, which surprised Rose, considering what her mother had just revealed about Hagrid. Then she found out why. “The same thing happened to Umbridge, only worse,” Hermione went on. “She came out at the top of the AstronomyTower and began screaming at them ordering them to leave in the name of the Ministry of Magic, and generally telling them what foul creatures they were. A group of them went over to the base of the tower with these enormous, tree-sized clubs, and began pounding on it. They literally crumbled the tower beneath her. As soon as they got their hands on her, they tore her to pieces.”

Rose shuddered in revulsion at the thought, but upon reflection conceded that it was a fitting end for the loathsome, toad-like witch. But Hermione had more to tell.

“Right after that, and while the Aurors were still some ways from the castle, the remaining giants and trolls succeeded in battering down the castle doors. It was what we’d feared the most, and it looked like there would be no way to avoid a bloodbath. In seconds they had devastated the Entrance Hall and were about to storm into the Great Hall. The staff was trying to defend the staircases leading out of the Entrance Hall toward the dormitories, but were about to be overwhelmed when every house elf in the castle appeared.”

The young girl’s eyes went wide; she had not expected this turn of events. She had learned earlier in the story that house elves would defend their homes to the death. By breaking into the castle the enemy had triggered this fanatical defense. Seeing the look of understanding that came over her daughter’s face, Hermione nodded and continued.

“Remember, giants are immune to virtually all spells, which is why they were so hard to stop. But the house elves collectively levitated the very slabs of stone from the floor they were standing on, and sent them all flying into the lake. They took out every giant that was inside the castle, and every troll too for that matter.”

“Then what happened to them?” Rose asked quickly.

“It turns out that giants can’t swim,” Hermione answered with a shake of her head. “They don’t even float. I never thought about it before then, but it’s simple physics really. They’re so heavy, they just sank.” She looked back down at her startled daughter and shrugged. “All of a sudden the battle was effectively over. Once the giants were all gone the rest of them surrendered.”

Rose just sat there in amazement while Hermione wrapped her arm around her and pulled her into her side. Recounting this part of the story had drained her emotions, but there was still an important part left to tell. But she would wait until Rose was ready.

It didn’t take too long for the inquisitive girl to follow up. “Did any of your other friends die?”

Hermione let out a long sigh and shook her head, still thankful all these years later that they hadn’t lost anyone else. “No one we were really close to. Seamus and Lavender were badly injured defending the tunnels in Hogsmeade. They were in the hospital for several weeks. In fact, they became rather close as a result and ended up married.” That revelation got a smile out of her – the biggest womanizer and the biggest flirt of their year ending up together.

“Parvati and Padma, Justin, Dean, and Colin were never there that year, of course, and Ginny hadn’t ever gone back. The only other Gryffindor of our year was Neville, and he made it through all right, as did Susan, Ernie, and Hannah. And Luna.” She paused to catch her breath and collect her thoughts. “Among the professors, McGonagall was hurt the worst. She and Flitwick were the main ones defending the stairs in the Entrance Hall. She retired after the next year.”

Rose sat on the sofa for several minutes, absorbing and analyzing everything she’d been told. Then she realized something that she’d previously overlooked.

“Mum?” she asked in a small voice. “Do you still have all three of the Deathly Hallows?” Hermione gazed back at her for a moment, then nodded with a grim, resigned expression. “So you’re the Master of Death? You must be the most powerful witch in the world!”

Hermione looked anything but powerful as she lowered her head and shrugged. “But what good does it do me if I can’t be with the man I love?” She looked back up, her eyes now filled with tears. “For all the magical power I have, I still can’t bring him back. I feel so helpless. I’d give it all up in an instant if I could just hold him again.”

She brought her hands up to her face, weeping openly. Rose climbed onto her mother’s lap and threw her arms around her neck, hugging her close, letting Hermione’s tears flow onto her own shoulder as they both cried together.

It was a good five minutes before the two of them regained their composure. Rose remained on Hermione’s lap, turning around to rest up against her as her mother wrapped her in a comforting hug.

“How long did it take?” Rose finally asked.

Hermione knew what she was asking. “Everything was fine for a while. There were lots of celebrations, and Harry, Ron and I were awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class. We all stayed at Hogwarts, camping out on the grounds, and helped rebuild the castle. But by the time summer arrived Harry started forgetting things. During the summer we began dropping out of the public eye, cultivating a reputation of being reclusive. The public was so grateful that they were willing to go along with pretty much whatever Harry and I wanted, and if we wanted to be hermits, so be it. By the end of the summer we’d dropped out of magical society completely, living as muggles. At that point Harry had forgotten pretty much everyone but Ron and me. It was particularly hard on Remus.”

“So you didn’t take him to St. Mungo’s, like Neville’s parents?” Rose asked by way of clarification.

“No, no, we couldn’t risk anyone finding out,” Hermione responded quickly. “For one thing, he’d be in danger from the remaining Voldemort sympathizers. But perhaps more importantly, the wizarding public wouldn’t have taken it well if they’d found out. They needed him to be a hero. So we’ve kept it a closely guarded secret all these years.”

Hermione sighed, fingering the binding of the notebook they had just finished going through. “And this really answers one of your first questions all those months ago when we first read the story. Why did she change the ending so much? Do you understand now?”

Rose hesitated, then nodded uncertainly. “I think so.”

“It would never do you see,” Hermione continued somewhat bitterly, “for the sidekick to end up all powerful while the hero became almost completely incapacitated, a virtual invalid. No, that wouldn’t sell at all. The hero has to get the pretty girl and live happily ever after. ‘All was well ’, after all.”

Rose didn’t respond verbally, but reached back up and hugged her mother as tightly as she could. After a minute Hermione pulled away and settled down to finish her explanation. “There was one more reason why he couldn’t be in St. Mungo’s,” she noted. “You see, Harry loved magic.”

The young girl didn’t immediately understand what her mother meant, but then it hit her, and her hand flew up to her mouth. “You mean …?”

Hermione nodded. “Your father has no memory whatsoever of magic. That’s why he lives in a completely muggle house and why you’ve been instructed never to mention magic around him.” Rose nodded in understanding. The times she’d slipped up had generated a puzzled look on her father’s face, followed by a blank stare. It was quite disconcerting, and she’d tried hard not to let it happen any more.

Once she saw that her daughter understood, Hermione concluded her tale. “Eventually I was the only one he knew. There were certain things that helped (she left this deliberately vague, not feeling the need to explain that making love always provided a temporary respite from Harry’s inexorable memory loss) but we both knew that it was only a matter of time. By this point the royalties from the sales of the first book had started to become substantial, so we bought these two houses and made some modifications to the one he lives in. I used to read to him from these journals every night, and he was always delighted when it would jog his memory and he could recall something that we’d done together. But by the next morning it was always gone again.”

“Oh, just like that movie, The Notebook ,” Rose commented excitedly.

Hermione nodded, then gave Rose a squeeze and a melancholy smile. “He was determined to hold on until you were born. I’d joined the Unspeakables by then on a consulting basis so I had access to their knowledge of obscure spells and potions, and the ones who knew about his condition were amazed at how long he lasted. The day of your birth was when the last trace finally disappeared. He was so excited when he first held you. But as soon as he carried you into my room I could see in his eyes that he had no idea who I was.”

Hermione paused to brush a few more tears away. “It was a heartbreakingly difficult adjustment. He knew he had partial amnesia – it didn’t affect his intelligence after all – and that he had these huge gaping holes in his memory. He knew he had a daughter and that she therefore had a mother, but every time he saw me after that I was a complete stranger. You became a lifeline for him, the only thing he still had in his life that he loved.”

“And he never forgot me because I came along after the potion took effect?” Rose suggested.

“That’s right,” Hermione confirmed. “Those first few months and years were very depressing times, and without you to hold us together I don’t know what we would have done. We’d already arranged for someone to stay with him round the clock because we weren’t really sure how he’d react to the situation. Over the years we’ve settled into the routine we have now, and well, you know the rest.”

There really wasn’t anything more to say. Mother and daughter sat cuddled together as the house darkened, Rose musing over everything she’d learned about how things had been, and Hermione yearning for what might have been. At long last Rose yawned, and Hermione broke them apart in order to get up from the sofa and head off to bed. Seeing the look in her mother’s eye, Rose made a quick decision.

“Mum, would it be OK if I slept in your bed tonight? I don’t really feel like being by myself right now.”

Hermione smiled down at her thoughtful daughter and hugged her yet again. “I think that’s a very nice idea.”

-oooOOOooo-

Harry Potter was in a good mood as he got out of bed. This was his favorite day of the week. It was Saturday, and it meant that he got to spend the entire day with his daughter. It wasn’t the only day of the week that he saw her, since she lived just down the road and she always stopped by to see him for a bit after school each day. But he eagerly looked forward to the weekends when they were able to spend so much more time together.

As he went through his morning routine, and greeted the friendly nurse who checked him over each day, putting him through some mental exercises, he reflected on his life. All in all, it was a pretty good life. Certainly much better than he’d had growing up.

He remembered vividly his life with his aunt and uncle, and all the hardships they’d put him through because they resented being stuck with him after his mother and father died. Even after he’d gone off to boarding school, which he recalled only bits and pieces of, things hadn’t been much better. For some reason all the students there had resented him, some even going so far as outright hating him. He wasn’t really sure why that was, but he knew it must have something to do with the part of his life he couldn’t remember.

It was very frustrating, not being to remember so much of his early life, but over the years he’d managed to adjust. He had a nice place to live, and kept himself busy with his reading and various hobbies. Money was never an issue, and his ‘keepers’, as he jokingly called them, were all pleasant and friendly. They occasionally took him and Rose on outings, and he worked at keeping himself informed about what was happening in the world. Throughout it all, though, was always the nagging feeling that he was missing something.

He knew intellectually what it was, of course, but that didn’t really help. No matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t break through, and his efforts inevitably led to frustration. The nurses, who rotated during the week, were all very kind and encouraging, and always told him that anything was possible.

But the light of his life was his daughter Rose, and he wasn’t going to dwell on frustrating thoughts this day; he wanted to focus on enjoying their time together. He’d just finished up his breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen when the doorbell rang, right on schedule.

As soon as the door opened a curly haired girl jumped into his arms. “Daddy!” she shouted happily as he whirled her around.

“How’s my girl?” he asked happily. While she assured him that she was just fine, thank you, he turned to the woman who’d accompanied her. “Hello, Miss …?” he greeted her politely.

“Hermione,” she informed him in a controlled voice.

“Hermione, that’s a pretty name,” he replied, not noticing the slight tightening of her mouth.

“Thank you,” she responded in the seemingly scripted performance. They went through this every time she brought Rose over.

“So, Lily Rose,” he asked, turning back to his daughter. “What do you want to do today?”

Rose responded by putting her hands on her hips and pretending to scowl. “Daddy, why do you keep calling me that?”

Harry grinned. “Because you look like a Lily Rose, of course. It’s a special kind of Rose.”

Rose was having none of it. “Oh honestly, Daddy. There’s no such thing as a Lily Rose.”

Harry cocked his head. Something about her stance, her words, or her insistence that such a thing didn’t exist seemed oddly familiar, recalling a snatch of a memory of a similar bossy eleven year old girl. But then it was gone and he shook it off, turning to their other visitor for support.

“What do you think, um …?”

“Hermione,” she prompted.

“Right, Hermione. You know, that’s a pretty name. Just like Lily Rose here.” He grinned at his daughter and she stuck her tongue out at him.

“Now, that’s not very polite thing to do,” he scolded with a smile as he jokingly shook his finger at her. “What will our guest think?” He turned back to Hermione and frowned. “Um, I don’t think I introduced myself. “I’m Harry.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Hermione,” she managed to say with a smile.

“That’s a pretty name.”

Rose rolled her eyes and jumped forward. This could go on all day if she let it. She grabbed his arm and began to tug him away. “Let’s go Dad, I want to tell you about a project I’ve been working on at school. Bye Mum.”

Harry let himself be guided from the room, turning to wave at the mystery woman as they left. “Bye, uh …”

“Hermione,” she filled in automatically.

“Bye Hermione. You know …”

“Come on, Daaad,” Rose interrupted, dragging him away before he could compliment her mother once more on her name.

Hermione raised her hand in a sad farewell.

“Bye Harry,” she replied softly. Then she added the phrase that they’d always used to close their letters to each other, way back when, and that she’d whispered hundreds of times over the past eleven years.

“I miss you.”

-xox-XOX-XOX-xox-