Hit the Floor

Chapter Eleven - It All Comes Down to This

As Harry stood in the Entrance Hall waiting for the sign from Dumbledore, he thought about all the people he was fighting for. He thought about Ron, his very first friend, who'd stuck by him even through the roughest of times. He thought about Hermione, the little girl he'd known, and the woman she was becoming. He thought about his housemates, and his yearmates, who deserved the opportunity to live out their lives in a world without war. He thought about Draco...

Fawkes appeared above the door and trilled at Harry. That was the sign. They had two minutes before the emergency wards would activate. Harry squared his shoulders and made the decision not to turn around. He knew he would find the entire force of Aurors staring at him, some in fear, some in anticipation, and some in hope. Like he was, their talisman, their mascot. Instead, he closed his eyes and again brought to mind who, and what, he was fighting for.

"Let's go," he said. His voice sounded far stronger than he felt inside.

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As Harry and the Aurors passed Hagrid's hut, the first black-cloaked figure became visible at the edge of the forest.

"Dementors," Harry shouted, feeling the coldness and fear wash over him. He ignored the screams of those long dead that echoed in his head and pressed forward, casting Expecto Patronum as he went. The silver white stag galloped towards the floating forms, followed by those of the Aurors behind Harry.

He saw Dumbledore battling with a line of Death Eaters off in the distance, bright flashes of spells coming from both fronts. It reminded him of the battles he'd seen in Star Wars as he'd watched through the cracked door of his cupboard, between the Storm Troopers and Rebel forces. As the thought of the movie crossed his mind, he marveled at the complete inappropriateness of it. He was in a battle. The battle. It was a life and death situation, quite literally kill or be killed. And yet Harry felt detached from the entire scene, as if he were watching from the sidelines. As he mechanically cast spells against the Dementors, he wondered where Voldemort was. He wondered where Lucius was, and whether or not Draco would have to face him.

With the help of the Aurors, the Dementors were driven away, to reveal the first wave of Death Eaters. Time slowed down, it seemed, as the Aurors moved to surround Harry. Ages passed before the first spell was cast, and Harry wondered with detached fascination at the fact that his body reacted where his mind did not. He threw curse after curse, rarely missing his target, and never once hitting those fighting with him. At that moment, Harry was unable to express how happy he was that Dumbledore never finished the conversation about Harry's use of Dark spells and curses.

Finally, they'd cut through the last line of Death Eaters and reached the edge of the forest. More than half of the Aurors had fallen, and Harry had been hit with a rather painful stinging curse. Draco and Snape were nowhere in sight, and Harry didn't know who had been part of their group. He hoped they were still alive.

He moved to stand at the front of his haggard group. Right in front of him stood the two people he hated most in the world. Bellatrix and Voldemort. Pettigrew's fallen body lay a few feet to the side, and while Harry was glad he was dead, a part of him mourned the loss of the boy who had been one of his parents' friends.

Bellatrix moved first, and cast a particularly nasty slashing curse at him. He dodged, and tried to ignore the scream of the Auror behind him that had been hit.

"Little Potty come to play?" she said in that sing-song voice that never failed to give him shivers. She had an insane look about her, even more so than the last time Harry had seen her. He didn't bother to reply before sending his first curse at her. She barely avoided it, ducking just in time. Bellatrix flinched in shock as the tree that stood behind her exploded.

"I've learned a bit since last time," Harry said coolly. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

As it had in the Department of Mysteries, the sing-song voice stopped abruptly, and the cold voice of a murderer spilled from her mouth.

"Such an arrogant boy," she said. "Full of Light spells you think will somehow defeat us." The same red light that had pushed Sirius through the veil shot from her wand, and again, another Auror was struck down as Harry ducked. Time was still warped, and Harry reacted without thinking. He blocked out the sound of her voice, the taunts about his dead godfather, his dead troops, and his soon to be dead friends. What spells he used, he didn't know, and watched in awe as a flash of blue struck her, body falling slowly to the ground.

Harry did not use the Killing Curse, and hadn't throughout the battle. He wanted Voldemort to believe that he would not use it, not even on him, or he was unable to use it on anyone.

Harry took a risk and glanced around him, searching in vain for a glimpse of pale-blonde hair amongst all the dark. One flash of it was all he needed, so he would know.

A dry chuckle from the last standing form in front of him, and suddenly time snapped back to normal. Harry's senses were hyper-aware of all going on around him. He could hear the Aurors breathing behind him, the sounds of battle still going on in the distance. He could see the sunlight filtering through the trees, and Voldemort's eyes seemed to glow with an evil red light. There were no more idle wonderings in his head.

"There is no Dumbledore to rescue you this time, Harry Potter," the snake-like creature hissed.

"I don't need him this time, Tom," Harry replied evenly, somehow managing to disguise the fear and anger warring within. He ducked as Voldemort cast the first curse.

"Where have you been these past months, Harry?" Voldemort asked. "I tried so very hard to find you, you and the two traitors."

Harry paled at the mention of Snape and Draco. Logically, he had known Voldemort knew he was with them, but hearing it first hand made him fear for their lives. Not bothering to answer, he threw a curse at Voldemort, trying to catch him off guard.

"Such a shame, I had such hopes for young Malfoy," Voldemort continued, Harry's spell ignored, except for the shield thrown up against it. "I shall be forced to kill him, once you are gone."

Harry fought desperately to maintain control of his carefully constructed façade, to funnel his anger into power, instead of using it to return Voldemort's taunts. "Too bad I won't be going anywhere, then," Harry said flippantly. "I suppose Malfoy will just have to live with being free."

Voldemort ignored him again, continuing along the same thread. "Perhaps I'll throw him through the veil," he mused, missing Harry with a Crucio. "It would give Bella's cousin some company."

No amount of practice and training with Draco and Snape could have prepared Harry for this. This was the ultimate test of his control, of how much he'd changed, of whether or not he would survive. Even with the Boggart, Harry had known it wasn't Voldemort, and thus the taunting hadn't affected him to this degree. But to mention Sirius…it made Harry clench his fists, fingernails biting into the palms of his hands. He threw another ineffective spell, which was easily blocked.

"All your little friends will become my slaves, you know," Voldemort said in an almost pleasant tone. "The females will be used as whores for breeding, the males for labor, and those too weak will be kept as food for my pets."

The Aurors behind him began to shout. Dumbledore was in trouble. The Death Eaters on his front were attempting to retreat to their leader, to ensure his destruction of Harry. The Aurors ran to help keep them at bay, leaving Harry and Voldemort alone. As it had been last year, as it had been second year, first year, and that night seventeen years ago, at Godric's Hollow.

"Is that one of the spells you learned while you were away, Potter? If so, perhaps I shall allow Severus to live. He's handed you to me on a silver platter."

Harry focused on his anger, his helplessness, his desire for the battle, the creature in front of him, the whole bloody situation to jend.end. That would be the key to surviving, his power, the 'power that the Dark Lord knows not...'

"Did you really expect to defeat me using such paltry magic? I am a Master of the Dark Arts, there is nothing you know that I do not, there is no spell you can cast that I cannot, there is no curse you can use that I cannot break."

He could feel it building inside of him, strong, struggling, and fighting to get out. It was not a power to be contained.

"Such a foolish boy you are, to think that you of all people could bring about my demise. You've failed time and time again, Potter. You've had six chances to rid the world of me, and each time you could not do it."

He concentrated on Voldemort, ing ing him to stop, die, anything. To just pause long enough to allow Harry to strike the final blow, to rid the world of this monster once and for all.

"You'll die just like your parents, screaming and begging for mercy, cowards at the end," Voldemort hissed, a faint green glow building at the tip of his wand.

That last gave Harry the final burst of anger he needed. With a terrifying scream, he released the pure power within him. It poured from his body, the brightness of it forcing his eyes closed. It went on for an eternity, burning him away from the inside out. When Harry finally reopened his eyes, Voldemort was lying at his feet, the movement of his breath barely noticeable.

A part of Harry wanted to wait until Voldemort awoke to deliver the last blow, wanted to see the acknowledgement of defeat in his eyes as he realized he was going to die. The other part of him was disgusted with the thought, and spurred him into action.

The split second before Harry spoke the two most dangerous words one could speak, he prayed with everything he was, and hoped with everything he could be, that there would be pain beyond all he'd experienced thus far, that it would be overwhelming, debilitating, worse than anything he'd felt in his life. Because Harry knew one thing for certain, he never wanted to end up like the creature in front of him. He wanted this spell to hurt so much he would never use it again, never want to use it again, not even if his life depended on it.

His voice sounded foreign to his own ears, as if it was not made to ever say those two words. Harry wanted to close his eyes against the green light building between his palms. It was a shade that haunted his nightmares.

Harry let go. He took his wish for pain, his wish for peace, his hatred of Voldemort, Bellatrix, Wormtail, the Dementors and the Death Eaters, and poured it all into the curse that he finally let go.

The first wave of pain brought him to his knees, something that had not happened in all his Dark Arts training. It was the most horrible thing he'd ever experienced, and it was getting worse. The second wave sent streaks of black through his vision, blurring Voldemort's unmoving form, snaking trails through the glowing green of the curse. Yet his arms remained before him, hands pointed at his target. The third wave ripped a pain-filled scream from his lungs, his body unable to hold the burning agony. At last, the flow of power stopped, and Voldemort's body began to burn. The pain that rushed through Harry's entire being, however, did not, and he fell forward as screams were ripped from him faster than he could breathe.

The last thing Harry heard before the darkness took over, was the anguished cry of someone yelling his name.


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