The Final Battle: Part 2

"NO!" a pained scream echoed throughout the grounds of Hogwarts. The scream attracted the inhabitants within the castle which caused the people to crowd towards the courtyard.

Neville looked on in shock and hopelessness when the Dark Lord and his followers strutted towards them with a shackled Hagrid... a lifeless Harry cradled in his arms. He had now just understood what that scream meant. It came from Hermione who was being held back by Ron as she fought to race towards Harry.

"Ron... let me go! Harry! Please... no..." The poor girl was delirious. Tears furiously streamed down her face, her eyes were red and probably stung.

He turned to look at Ron whose eyes were rimmed red as well but no tears fell from his eyes. Luna was weeping behind him, holding a hand over her mouth to silence her sobs. They weren't the only ones crying, however. Neville heard a sob a few feet away from them and saw Molly Weasley sinking down to her knees, her hand covering her agape mouth, her teary eyes staring at Harry in shock. Arthur Weasley knelt down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, tears falling down his face as well.

Neville looked around to see his friends and their allies with a somewhat similar reaction- looking at Harry in despair, the light in their eyes now dimmed. Some started to sob, others began to shout in protest, and the rest could only look at the scene, not sure of what to do or how to react. However, Neville knew one emotion was present in their hearts: anger.

"Silence!" came the arrogant voice of one Dark Lord. He held up his arms like a ringmaster ready for a performance with the Elder Wand in his grasp. The look of glee evident in his face which made Neville's blood boil.

"The Chosen One..." Here, he paused for dramatic effect. "...is no more! Dead by my wand!"

By this point, Hermione had stopped sobbing but a fire was alight in her eyes, full-blown anger and hatred now directed towards the monster who killed the love of her life. Neville internally shivered at the killer intent present in her eyes, ignited by the sight of Harry's body in Hagrid's arms. She became deathly silent but all her emotions were overflowing from her cinnamon orbs. She had stilled in Ron's arms but her hand was clutched around her wand, unseen by their enemies as she hid her arm behind her.

Voldemort took a few steps forward towards Hermione, grinning nastily at her. "Harry Potter is dead." Then turning around and walking back towards his followers, he threw his arms up in the air. "Harry Potter is dead!" he repeated, laughing manically. His followers imitated him as they all laughed at the apparent misfortune of the Boy-Who-Lived, now the Boy-Who-Died.

When they had all stopped laughing, Voldemort turned around once again to address Harry's followers. His hysterical smile-which creeped the living hell out of Neville- was still present on his snake-like face. "This is what became of your savior... and what will become of you if you continue to defy Lord Voldemort. Step forward, join me, become one of us, and you will be spared. Otherwise... die. Choose wisely."

No one from the Light moved a muscle. Not a single one. And Neville felt immensely proud of that. Despite Harry's death, they continued to defy evil. Perhaps hope was still alive after all.

Voldemort's red eyes scanned the crowd until it landed on one certain platinum blond Slytherin. Although he stood with his classmates, he looked separated from them, as if he didn't really belong in the group. Voldemort sought to rectify this. He turned to look at the boy's parents who stood a few feet to his right, his eyes boring holes through their skulls. Lucius Malfoy shivered at his master's glare.

Raising a hand towards his son who he had just found through the crowd, he called out to his son, "Draco..."

Everyone turned to look at the boy in question who had a blank look on his face, wondering what was he going to do. However, he stood his ground, his steely grey eyes defiant. Neville found himself surprised at this. The pompous, cruel bully from his younger years had disappeared, only to be replace by a young man who looked willing to fight for righteousness. Neville wondered what caused this change in Draco Malfoy. Whatever the reason was, he couldn't help but be grateful that Draco had chosen to be a part of their cause.

Lucius turned to his wife beside him, expecting her to call out for their son as well. Narcissa surprised him by keeping mum, intent on only gazing at her son. Mother and son shared a secret little smile. Despite her current position, Narcissa wasn't necessarily evil. The only reason she stood among Voldemort's people right now was due to her wifely duties. She prayed to every deity that her son do not meet the same fate as hers and her eyes twinkled brightly at the thought that her wish was being made true.

When it was apparent that the Malfoy scion was going to stand with the Light, Voldemort sighed. "Oh, dear Draco..." He shook his head, a disappointed frown marred his former gleeful visage. "I expected more from you, my boy."

Draco merely stared at him, unimpressed. Voldemort tutted at him before addressing the crowd once again but he was beaten to the punch by Neville himself as he stepped- or limped, considering his injured leg- forward. His actions were met by gasps and cries, the people behind him shocked at what they had just witnessed.

Neville knew he wasn't one of the bravest from his beloved house so in the future, he might question where he found the courage to do what he just did. For now, he contented himself with the thought that maybe courage has been within him all this time and merely the current situation brought it out of him. He clutched the Sorting Hat, which he found among the rubble in the castle, tighter as he faced the Dark Lord.

Voldemort stared at him, a sneer present on his face upon noticing Neville's limp. "Well... I must say I've hoped for better." The Death Eaters behind him laughed along with him. "What's your name, my boy?"

Neville swallowed the lump in his throat before answering, "Neville Longbottom."

"Well, Neville, I'm sure there is a place for you in our ranks-"

"You're mistaken." Neville cut him off, his heart jumping in his chest. I must be crazy, he thought, seeing the Dark Lord scowl at his interruption. Clearing his throat, he continued, "I have something to say."

Voldemort gave him no indication to speak but he did anyway. Putting on a fearless demeanor, he addressed to the crowd.

"It doesn't matter Harry's gone." Here, he gave an apologetic glance at Hermione who merely gave him an encouraging nod.

"Neville... what the bloody hell are you doing?" From behind him, Seamus asked him in a low voice.

Ignoring the Irish, he turned around to face his allies and continued, "Death is a part of our daily lives. People die every day... friends and family. We may have lost Harry today but his spirit would always live within us. In here..." He placed a hand over his left breast, where his heart lay underneath. "Along with everyone who died in this war. However, they didn't die in vain." Clenching his fist, he turned on his heel and faced Voldemort, bravely staring through the Dark Lord's eyes. "But you will... because the dark will never win over the light."

Surprising everyone, even himself, he reached into the Sorting Hat and pulled out the Sword of Gryffindor, yelling, "This isn't over!"

Just then, they heard a grunt when Harry's body suddenly fell to the ground. Everyone turned his attention to him, startled, as the "corpse" shouted, "Confringo!" at Nagini who was at Voldemort's feet. The spell bounced off the snake and hit some Death Eaters behind them instead. Harry mentally cursed. Well, it was worth a try, I guess, he thought.

Cheers echoed from the side of the Light at his apparent resurrection. He heard several people scream his name but he only focused on a particular one through the din. His heart jumped at the sound of Hermione's voice which he thought he'd never hear again. Guess his luck hadn't run out yet. Unfortunately, he had to ignore them as he rolled backwards and landed on his feet. He looked towards the ground where he lay a second ago and saw the residue of a curse Voldemort had no doubt aimed at him.

Daring to look into Voldemort's enraged eyes, he smirked at him. "You're aim isn't getting any better, Tommy boy." As he taunted the Dark Lord, he took cautious steps backwards to try and distance himself from their group. "How long was it? Six years? Whatever, the matter of fact is after all these years, you still haven't been able to kill me. I mean, come on! I gave you a free shot and you still managed to botch it up."

Once the distance between them was considerably large, he turned around and ran through the courtyard, away from where they were gathered, intent on having Voldemort follow him. Fortunately for him, the Dark Lord took the bait and left his Death Eaters to the mercy of Harry's friends. As soon as Harry and Voldemort was gone from sight, the Death Eaters dispersed and began to attack.

The final battle has begun.

...

It all comes down to this. After being chased through the whole castle, Harry and Voldemort found themselves back in the courtyard, only this time, there no spectators present. Harry could feel the end coming through his bones. Despite the physical fatigue, he can't help but feel more alive in this moment. It was all up to him now. Hermione's face came to the forefront of his mind. The thought of his love lifted his spirits, he was going to make sure they would get to live their happily ever after. He hadn't been able to approach her for even a second because of everything that had happened since he left her to die, he was sure to give her one hell of a kiss later.

Voldemort had no anchors to tie him to this world now. Harry knew that and he assumed Voldemort was aware of that fact too. The memory of Neville Longbottom beheading Voldemort's beloved snake would be one he'd always treasure. He ought to do something for Neville after this war, Harry thought to himself.

His eyes were trained on the wand in Voldemort's grasp, the infamous Elder Wand. He smirked, staring at it. That was one ace he had up his sleeve, a trump card as well as a wild card that can help turn the tides, depending on who holds its power.

It was actually surprising how he fast he was able to grasp the situation without Hermione's help. While playing possum in Hagrid's arms on the way to the castle, his mind began to wander.

The night Dumbledore was euthanized, Severus Snape had been the one to kill him instead of Draco Malfoy. Voldemort probably had set up Draco Malfoy's death by assigning to him the task of killing Albus Dumbledore. What he didn't anticipate is the Unbreakable Vow between Snape and Narcissa Malfoy. The latter, fearful for her son when she learned of the task Voldemort had given him, asked the help of Snape to aid Draco.

The Vow between Snape and Narcissa was a silver lining for one Albus Dumbledore. Once the former headmaster had learned of this, he had set up Snape to deliver the final blow to him to salvage what was left of Draco's innocence. With the cursed injury he sustained from the Gaunt ring, he was already dying. He just made sure he didn't spend his last breath in a deathbed.

However, Dumbledore hadn't anticipated Voldemort's search for the Elder Wand while Voldemort had only begun searching for it after Dumbledore's death. Now, there are a few ways to become the master of the Deathstick. You either kill, disarm, or maim the current master, or in the least violent situation, the current master will relinquish his control of the Wand willingly to the next master. To resolve this, it may also be the reason why Dumbledore had to die by Snape's wand- to ensure that the power of the wand would remain in safe hands, regardless if Voldemort wields it or not.

Draco Malfoy got to him first, though, the night of his death. While the young man was incapable of killing Dumbledore, he had no qualms in disarming him as it was the least he could do in the presence of a wicked audience, and unknowingly becoming the master of the Elder Wand. Dumbledore may have noticed this and was probably the first one who knew that he had been succeeded as the master of the Elder Wand and by Draco Malfoy, no less. And although Snape was the best choice as the next master of the Wand, Dumbledore was the only one who was aware of the turn of events so it was best the secret died with him... not until Harry figured it out.

The night at Malfoy Mansion, Draco had helped them escape which cemented Harry's belief that the young scion was indeed allied with the light. They weren't aware that time, that Draco was the master of the Elder Wand, especially Ron... who stunned Draco and effectively disarmed him, which meant Ron became the new master. Harry had to hold in a laugh as he fiddled with the willow wand he held in his grasp. If only his best mate knew what giving his wand to Harry would mean...

Harry ran through the castle with Voldemort tailing him. Along the way, he came across Ron and Luna huddled at the bottom of the staircase with Nagini in the air flying towards them. His eyes widened and he skidded to a halt as he watched the snake about to reach them, its fangs ready to sink in their flesh. On instinct, he brought his wand up to cast a spell towards it but was disarmed by Voldemort. Fortunately, though, Neville Longbottom appeared beside them with the Sword of Gryffindor swinging down from over his head to decapitate the last Horcrux.

Harry cheered loudly at that and an angered Voldemort cast curses at him in rapid succession. Wandless, Harry could only run and dodge towards Ron and Luna.

"Harry! Use my wand!" Ron screamed, tossing his willow wand towards his bespectacled best friend. With his seeker reflexes, Harry caught the wand, turned around, and cast a shield in time to deflect Voldemort's curse aimed at his back.

Glancing at Ron, he exclaimed, "Thanks, mate!" And with that, he ran off.

With Ron willingly giving up his wand for Harry to use, he unknowingly made Harry the master of the Elder Wand. And Harry was going to use this knowledge to his advantage.

"Fancy wand you got there, Tommy boy," Harry taunted.

Voldemort sneered at the mention of his accursed name. "Wouldn't you like to know, Potter?" He held up the wand, gazing at it in adoration. "It's amazing, isn't it? Up until the meddling old fool's death, this wand was merely a legend. Something everyone wished they had but is non-existent." He pointed it at Harry then. "With this wand, I am invincible."

Harry gave a smug smirk. "You sure are full of yourself, aren't you? You've had everyone believing you were a pureblood when in truth, you are merely a product of a squib and... how did you call it? Oh... a filthy muggle."

A streak of green flew towards him. He leaned at an angle to the left, the streak flying past him and blowing up the rubble behind him. He whistled at the damage of the curse and turned back to Voldemort, smirking. "Struck a nerve, didn't I? I swear the killing curse is the only spell you know despite being a self-proclaimed master wizard."

Voldemort clicked his tongue in annoyance and slightly dropped his wand. "And you've developed quite the cheek. Your mudblood could've done better."

With the mention of the hated nickname, Harry's playful demeanor disappeared. He could handle any insult aimed at him. Badmouth Hermione and you'll see firsthand the reason why he was called the Chosen One. "You should be careful of your words, Tom. Despite what you think, you're the one at a disadvantage here."

Voldemort chuckled darkly. "Oh, enlighten me, will you?"

Harry pursed his lips then shook his head dramatically. "I'm not really sure you want to know how I plan to beat you, Tom." And with that, he leveled his wand towards his opponent. "Now... it's time to end this, don't you think?"

Voldemort gave a satisfied smirk and followed Harry's example. "Thought you'd never ask, Potter."

"Expelliarmus!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

A streak of red left Ron's wand that Harry held at the same time a streak of green shot from the Elder Wand as they flew towards each other. The two streaks of light fought for dominance. Not even a few seconds had past and Harry could already feel a strain on his arm. He knew Voldemort felt it too but at a slightly bigger scale. He could see Voldemort falter.

Gritting his teeth, Voldemort growled. "Impossible!"

Harry huffed a little, his heart beating loudly. "T-Told you so... the wand was n-never yours to begin with!"

A few seconds past with neither side backing down. However, a change could be seen from Harry's opponent. The streak of green was slowly diminishing, the red one pushing forwards. Harry grinned in triumph. The Elder Wand recognized its owner and it definitely wasn't the one holding it. It couldn't go against its real master and began to fluctuate.

Voldemort began to realize what was going on. He could feel his magic being absorbed by the wand he admired not so long ago. "S-Stupid wand! NO!"

Here, in the middle of a battle of wills, Harry remembered what Dumbledore mentioned to him once.

You have something he doesn't, Harry, and that is love.

It might have sounded stupid then but when he thought of his parents, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, all those who had died as well as those still living including the Weasleys, Luna, Andromeda, Teddy, and especially Hermione, he felt strengthened. His heart swelled with the familiar feeling of love. He wanted to end this not just for him but for them as well. He would finally avenge Voldemort's victims and he could finally start living his life without fear. He could do all those things he promised Hermione. The thought brought an explicable feeling of glee within him.

With the thought of his loved ones on the forefront of his mind, Harry gave a roar and he pushed his magic to the limit. The red streak began to prevail, pushing towards his opponent, unhindered. The spell finally reached Voldemort and the wand flew from his hand towards Harry. Harry grabbed it with his free hand as Voldemort dropped to his knees.

"N-No... impossible." Voldemort was panting, he could feel himself weaken. He glared at Harry with everything he had. "Y-You're just a boy! You couldn't possibly defeat Lord Voldemort!"

Harry walked towards him, shaking his head. "Even when your end is near, you still think you'll win." He reached within a few feet in front of Voldemort, he leveled Ron's wand, poking at Voldemort's head.

He said in a mocking tone, "Well... this is anti-climactic." He gave a dry laugh. "All this time I keep running away, thinking you'll be able to kill me with this so-called power of yours and when I finally stop running and try to face you, this is all you have for me? How embarrassing, my Lord." The last part he said with a dramatic little bow, his face derisive.

He could almost see Voldemort foaming at the mouth, his face twisted with rage and contempt. "This isn't over, Potter! I'll be back!"

Harry sneered. "If this is about your Horcruxes then I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you."

His mischievous demeanor disappeared then and with a glare at the Dark Lord beneath his feet, he said, "It doesn't matter now. Your reign of terror ends here, Tom. This is the part where you atone for your sins and die by the wand of a so-called blood traitor. Life is ironic, don't you think?

"Rot in hell, Tom Riddle." And with a strong voice, he exclaimed, "Diffindo!"

The spell separated the Dark Lord's head from his neck. The head rolled towards Harry's feet, the headless body falling sideways. The gory sight would normally make his stomach queasy but for now, Harry couldn't bring himself to care, only concerned about one thing. He dropped his arm, feeling exhausted. He sighed heavily and looking up at the sky, he thought, It's finally over.

For the first time in his young life, Harry felt peace.

"Harry!"

The voice brought a smile on his face. It sounded like an echo. He turned around to see Hermione running towards him and he couldn't help but feel everything was in slow motion. Her hair flew as she ran and she wore a big smile. She had a gleeful expression on her face, devoid of that constant wrinkle on her brow that meant she was either stressed or thinking. Even with soot and wounds on her face, she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Of course, he may just be biased. At the sight of her, an image flashed in his mind and he grinned.

It was an older Hermione sitting on a rocking chair with a bundle in her arms. Her wavy hair was much shorter and bunched up in a messy ponytail. She wore a white satin dress and was barefoot. She was smiling at the bundle, her hand caressing a tuft of brown hair. Sensing his presence, she looked up at him and gestured for him to come hither.

The vision disappeared just in time for Hermione to leap in his arms.

He embraced with with everything he had just like how she squeezed the life out of him through her hug. She needed assurance as much as he did, that they both made it through the war and they were finally free to love each other without fear. And as he embraced her, he thought of how he wanted that vision to become a reality.

How he would gladly walk towards the future with Hermione and his child. How he couldn't wait to finally start living. How he couldn't wait to start his new life with Hermione. For as long as she was stuck with him, Harry knew everything would be alright.