Grand Finale

"Harry." Voldemort said bitingly, bristling at Harry's use of his birth name "I'll admit, I did not expect to speak with you again." He seemed to be in no hurry to engage them, which left Harry nervous, he knew he must be planning something.

Harry ignored the byplay "What did you do to Dumbledore?"

Voldemort smirked "I thought you and the Headmaster were on the outs? You haven't spoken to the man in months."

"Yeah, and now I have a feeling that you had something to do with that."

"Perhaps, but I wouldn't flatter myself. He did it to himself." Instead of addressing Harry, however, he was looking straight at Ginny "Much like you did, girl."

Ginny was pure steel as she glared back at the Dark Lord "Congratulations, you bested a first year, I bet you're so proud."

He could feel Hermione's mind whirring, trying to make out exactly what had happened. Harry himself was hesitant to engage, not without knowing more, because he had no idea if he could win or not. He'd had hope that he could defeat Voldemort, but if he had Dumbledore's magic and knowledge at his disposal as well? For now, the best thing to do was to try to keep him talking "I'm just surprised that Dumbledore would fall victim to a Horcrux when he knew about it." He admitted.

"That is the beauty of it, Harry." Voldemort gloated "I, truthfully, didn't understand the full extent of this ring's powers. But our old Headmaster certainly did, and that knowledge was his downfall. He was lured in by its power, like a moth to the flame, and allowed my horcrux a passage into his body."

Harry was mystified. "What are you talking about?"

Wordlessly, Voldemort held out his hand, the one which bore Slytherin's Ring, and summoned an apparition. It seemed to congeal out of the air, resisting the magic that summoned it like fly caught in a spider's web.

Harry's heart dropped. "Mum?"

"It's a lie." Fleur hissed.

Hermione nodded emphatically "Nothing can bring back the dead."

"We both know that's not true Harry." Voldemort said "We both know that there are no limits to what can be achieved through magic."

Lily Potter stared wordlessly ahead, her eyes catching Harry's. It was unnerving, seeing her here so clearly, yet something about it felt so wrong and twisted. Her lips parted to mouth a word, but Harry couldn't catch it. Before she could do anything else, she was gone, seeming to dissolve into the air.

"The resurrection stone." Luna said, almost in awe. Mentally, she filled him in on the legend of the Deathly Hallows- the Resurrection Stone, the Elder Wand, and the Invisibility Cloak.

Voldemort, however scoffed "It is not nearly as useful as it seems. I can summon the spirits of the dead, but they cannot, or will not speak to me." Harry could tell that this burned him.

"Let me guess, you summoned Slytherin himself, and he wouldn't say a word." Harry said bitingly. "I wonder why?"

"It hardly matters." Voldemort continued "Dumbledore collected another of the Deathly Hallows, the most powerful wand in existence. There will be no more priori incantatem to save you. No one will stand against me, with the power of the two most powerful wizards of the age and the most powerful wand in existence." Voldemort boomed, seemingly approaching a conclusion. "And when I'm done killing you and your friends, all the world will see is Albus Dumbledore, savior of the wizarding world, victorious over the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters."

With that Voldemort flicked his wand and deliberately dragged it across his forearm. Instantly, Harry felt that something was wrong. Stop him! Hermione hissed. Harry didn't need to be told twice.

They attacked as one, sending the most powerful curses they could muster at him, but it did not avail them. Whatever it was that Voldemort was doing, he was drawing ever more power to him. Hermione could see the magic flowing through the air in dark currents that leaked and dripped like blood.

Harry didn't know where he was drawing his power from, but whatever Voldemort was doing, it reeked of dark magic and death. With a will, Harry pressed further, sending a wordless spell- a golden-white beam of magic at him. It clanged dissonantly with Voldemort's shield, forcing the Dark Lord to flinch and sending gold and black sparks scattering. Even this didn't seem to interrupt Voldemort's spell, and he reacted on impulse by sending a shockwave out at the group. Harry conjured a shield that the shockwave clanged against, but the others were sent flying- save for Demelza who had slotted herself behind Harry. This was followed by a series of killing curses sent at the now prone witches.

Fortunately, the Avada Kedavra curse could only be cast so quickly, giving Harry the time to summon objects to intercept the slow, steady barrage. In addition, Fleur, perhaps channeling her avian side, was able to land gracefully on her feet and dodge the curse sent her way. Voldemort quickly caught on to the disadvantage his favorite curse had in this situation- is with his duel against Dumbledore at the ministry had shown, the killing curse was only so effective against a powerful enough wizard.

Instead, Voldemort decided to use brute force. The shockwave returned, now focused exclusively on Harry, buffeting his shield until he was forced onto his knees to avoid being blown back. He refused to give an inch, even as Voldemort struggled to approach him in a slow arduous gait as he too struggled against their clashing magic.

Then, Demelza wrapped her arms around him. I love you, Harry. She told him, before going slack against him. Harry felt a sudden surge of power, and he realized she'd channeled her magic into him.

Why would you do that? He demanded. You're defenseless!

No I'm not. God, why did she have to have so much faith in him. He didn't deserve it, yet he had to try to live up to it. And he had to admit, her injection of magic hadn't come a moment too soon, it had given him the surge he needed to momentarily force Voldemort back, his feet slipping against the stone floor as Harry's shield suddenly expanded and scattered Voldemort's attack.

The reprieve only lasted a few moments before Voldemort redoubled his attack, but now Harry was bolstered as the others began to channel their magic too him as well. None of us can even touch him, especially not now. Hermione explained. The only way is to pool our magic together, and the only way to do that is through you.

So Harry too was empowered as magic streamed towards him, until he could once against stand, and then project his shield outward, towards Voldemort. Harry was viscerally reminded of their duel in the graveyard, the struggle as their wands clashed and how he'd ultimately won. Voldemort seemed to have been reminded as well, because he hissed "No!" and suddenly changed tactics. Suddenly, Harry felt the wall collide against his side, sending him sprawling to the ground. Then another killing curse, which Harry barely was able to roll out of the way from. Then an intense barrage of multi-colored curses that Harry couldn't even recognize. He was able to deflect them with his shield, but they reacted unpredictably when they collided with the walls, ceiling, or floor. Some exploded on impact, sending shrapnel flying, one created dark green vines where it struck, which rapidly grew out towards the nearest person- who happened to be Luna.

Another spell struck the floor and superheated it until it was glowing- red, orange, and then white hot. The floor must have been charmed not to melt, but the heat began radiating outwards, slowly spreading from tile to tile and forcing Susan and Katie to back away. Luna artfully managed to use these two spells against each other, leaping over the superheated floor and causing the pursuing vines to catch fire.

Harry fought back- but it was clear that while they were perhaps a match in pure power, Voldemort has the advantage in experience. It was only through the help of his bond-mates that he had a chance at all. Hermione and Fleur's more advanced spell knowledge was a boon. While Harry could not utilize transfiguration or charms work as skillfully as Dumbledore had in the Ministry battle, but he could use cruder and only somewhat less effective methods. Flying bricks and furniture were still completely usable to both block curses and to fling at his opponent. He'd even managed to surprise Voldemort when he'd simply vanished the floor from beneath him, which had taken quite a bit more magic than it should have, probably due to protective enchantments. The move had taken the dark wizard off guard, but Harry hadn't been able to capitalize on it- his spells had been easily deflected.

Luna had gotten creative again when she suggested that Harry banish the block of stone that had been superheated by Voldemort's spell at him. Again, it had taken more magic than it 'should' have, but it was remarkably effective. As Harry forced the white-hot brick against Voldemort's shield, it began to spark and crackle- the combination of intense heat, protective enchantments, the power of Harry's spell forcing it against Voldemort's shield made it difficult for him to overcome. After several seconds on intense struggle, Voldemort vanished the brick, but the magical power of the spell that had been heating it was unleashed all at once, causing a brilliant explosion that forced Harry to shield his eyes. When he could see again, Voldemort had been blasted into the wall, but Harry was once again unable to take advantage with an effective follow-up.

Voldemort, however, found plenty of success in targeting Harry's bond-mates. As they'd given most of their magic to him, they were more vulnerable, and Harry had to spend energy protecting them with shields and barriers. He was also compelled to relentlessly attack Voldemort to keep his attention on him rather than anyone else. All of this was draining, and Harry found his reserves quickly running low. Susan had attempted to escape from the room and perhaps find backup, but the door was closed behind them and none of their spells could force it open or destroy it. Harry might have been able to do it, but he was pre-occupied, to say the least. It took every bit of his focus to keep himself and everyone else alive.

Soon, Harry was gasping for breath while Voldemort remained composed. The dark wizard had the advantage, and he knew it too, by how he smirked dementedly through Dumbledore's face. He laughed as Harry was forced to defend himself or his bond-mates again and again, each time straining more and more. His attacks were no longer vicious and urgent, they were precise, methodical, and calculated, knowing that his victory was only a matter of time and patience.

Perhaps this arrogance was his downfall.

From behind an overturned table, Ginny stood up, her wand clutched in her hand and hard, steeled eyes. Harry could sense her purpose, and his heart froze. Ginny, no.

She didn't respond, wouldn't be persuaded to change course. She had made her decision. Harry felt her channel her hatred, kindling and coaxing it. Voldemort had torn apart her family. He was the reason why her mother was so paranoid about her children's safety, she was afraid of losing them like she'd lost her brothers- Ginny's uncles who she'd never be able to meet. He'd manipulated and violated her, using her as a tool to hurt and kill her friends. For so long, she felt dirty, like he'd tainted her soul and she'd never be clean, because of him. He was responsible for the deaths of Harry's parents, Demelza's parents, Susan's parents and Aunt, and so many others. He'd tried to kill her dad, she remembered the terrifying night when the only information she'd had was from Harry's vision of what had happened to him. He'd left Harry an orphan, with only the Durselys to raise him. He'd tried to kill Harry as an innocent child, and again when he was eleven and again at twelve, and fourteen, and fifteen, and several times this year. Harry, the man she loved, who she knew and trusted above anyone… he'd made his life hell, and had tried to take him away from her. She'd never let that happen again. If that meant being a murderer- so be it. She wanted him dead, like no one else.

"Avada Kedavra."

In a flash, the green spell streaked through the air- striking not Voldemort, but Nagini. The pieces came together in Harry's mind. Hermione had spotted the snake with her fey sight- coiled, shielded and hidden away from the fighting in the corner of the room. But destroying it was much more difficult- they had Basilisk fangs, but they couldn't exactly use them in the heat of battle. No, only one spell would do, and Ginny had the conviction to use it.

Nagini, Voldemort's last horcrux, slumped over, dead.

It took a long moment for Voldemort to process what had just happened. Just like that his last horcrux, his last link to immortality, was gone. "No." He said in disbelief "NO!" He sent a killing curse of his own at Ginny, and this time Harry, tired and distracted, was too slow.

At the last moment, Ginny was flung to the side, sliding magnetically into Katie's arms as the older girl summoned her. Harry lashed out irrationally, scared out of his mind at the close call. He sent a massive burst of magic at Voldemort, who's shield buckled and wavered, but ultimately held against his onslaught. And then, finally, Harry was dry. He'd uselessly blown the last of what he had, what the girls had given to him. Voldemort knew it too. "I see you've overexerted yourself, Harry." He sneered vindictively. "I would just love to kill you, but first- crucio."

Harry screamed, there was nothing else he could do. There was nothing like Voldemort's cruciatus, no pain could possibly compare. When it lifted, it left his nerves ringing… he must have been under it for a while. He could feel seven minds hovering around him, his girls soothing and comforting him as much as they were reassuring themselves. They'd been rattled by the effects of the curse. "You know what the best part of this is." He gloated "All the world will see after today is the body of their feared 'Dark Lord' and the victorious Albus Dumbledore. It will be such a tragedy to lose their little… hero, but Dumbledore will be there to make sure everything runs smoothly. Perhaps he'll finally decide to take that position as Minister of Magic."

"Your horcuxes are gone, Tom." Harry said hoarsely "You'll die anyway." All that remained of Voldemort's soul was what was now occupying Dumbledore's body.

"Perhaps there are other ways to achieve immortality." Voldemort parried "The legend of the Deathly Hallows… the one who possesses all three becomes the Master of Death. Dumbledore delivered to me two of the hallows, and you, Harry Potter, have delivered the third."

Harry gaped at him. His invisibility cloak was the invisibility cloak? How was that possible? "Its not just possible, Harry." Voldemort crowed "Its logical. Decades old invisibility cloaks are frayed and patchy, they don't give perfect invisibility. Dumbledore knew this, its why he convinced James Potter to lend him the cloak, for academic purposes." He said that last part with biting irony. "Unfortunately, I can't toy with you forever." Voldemort continued "But I just can't pass up this opportunity to have a little fun. Free reign over your little… whores."

He levitated Ginny into the air, who glared defiantly. "You're pathetic." She spat.

Voldemort didn't respond, other than to snarl "Crucio!" Ginny screamed as the curse tormented her, and it absolutely destroyed him. He couldn't bear this, couldn't bear to see her, or feel her in that kind of pain.

"Please, stop!" He begged, but Voldemort just cackled at his pleading. Of course he wouldn't stop, unless doing so would torture him more.

God, there had to be something.

Blood! Hermione bursted out suddenly.

What?

Merlin, the resurrection stone is real. Hermione continued, before hurrying to explain. Its what your mum said, Harry. Blood.

For a moment, Harry's mind, still sluggish from the cruciatus curse, processed this. Then Hermione drilled the point home by projecting an image of Quirrel's face melting beneath Harry's hands.

Blood. His mother's blood. Could it really be that simple?

Voldemort had protected himself from his mother's sacrificial magic by using Harry's blood to create his new body, but that body was dead. He was in Dumbledore's body, which meant…

Harry didn't give the matter any more thought, with one sporadic motion he whipped jerked his arm to Voldemort's foot and gripped his ankle beneath his robes. Instantly, the curse cut off and Ginny slumped to the floor gasping. Meanwhile, Voldemort's mouth opened in a silent scream, which soon became all too audible.

Harry could feel the blood magic rushing into Voldemort like a wildfire. Left unchecked it would burn and melt through his blood, flesh and bone, leaving nothing but ash. But… something felt wrong.

He could kill Voldemort right here, once and for all. But he could sense Dumbledore in this body as well. Much like Quirrell, he would die along with Voldemort.

By Dumbledore's own logic, the trade was worth it. He, instead of Harry, would be the sacrifice needed to kill Voldemort once and for all. No one would blame him for Dumbledore dying... but it felt wrong to Harry. They'd spent so much time and effort just to save one life, only for him to turn around and so carelessly sacrifice another life? Had everything they'd done just been to exchange his life for Dumbledore's? Was that just? Ginny's experience with the diary prodded at his mind- how much of what Dumbledore had done had been him acting on his own, and how much had it been the influence of the Horcrux? How much could he be blamed for what he'd done under the influence of dark magic? How much of this discussion even mattered? Wasn't a life a life?

It was then that Harry had a moment of clarity. He was on the side of love. He wouldn't trade lives. Not today, not ever. He closed his eyes and reached deep. He never had a chance to explore what the most recent set of bonding rituals had done to him, but now he did. It had given him a clarity over his own magic and soul. He felt his mother's magic, protective and defiant, scorching and burning at the offending flesh that touched him. With this new insight, he laced his own magic with his mother's guiding it with his resolve and pouring it through to Voldemort.

It was a purifying fire now, destroying what was dark and leaving the rest. While Voldemort continued to scream and thrash uselessly, paralyzed and impotent against a magic that he'd never bothered to fully comprehend, the flesh of the body he inhabited remained intact. There was one exception, the hand that Slytherin's Ring rested on withered away and crumbled into dust and the ring too shattered, leaving the black gemstone to clatter to the floor. Not long after that, Voldemort's struggles ended. All that was left was the labored breathing of Dumbledore's aged, worn body.

Tom Riddle was dead.

Harry collapsed back onto the floor. It had taken every bit of his magic, willpower, and focus, but… they'd done it. They'd actually done it.

We won. He told his bond-mates, too exhausted for any other form of celebration. Then, utterly spent, he slipped into unconsciousness.