The world stood still.
Harry's body lay motionless on the cold, unforgiving stone of the courtyard, his black robes pooling around him like spilled ink. For a single breath—one heartbeat—there was silence.
Then the world shattered.
A raw, anguished wail pierced the night, tearing from Luna's throat as her knees buckled beneath her. Only Neville's arms around her waist kept her from collapsing entirely, his own face pale and stricken with horror. Beside them, Theo shook uncontrollably, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white as he struggled against Blaise's hold.
"Harry…" Neville whispered brokenly, his voice cracking as his vision blurred with tears.
Blaise's usual composure fractured, tears falling freely as he held Theo back, his own heart aching in his chest. "He's really gone," he said hoarsely. "I thought—"
Even Remus was crumpled against a wall, his face buried in his hands as ragged sobs wracked his body. Amelia stood nearby, her face pale, lips trembling as she fought to hold herself together in front of her Aurors.
But the loudest sound—the most chilling—was the laughter.
Voldemort's thin lips stretched into a cruel smile as he observed the devastation he had wrought. His Death Eaters, emboldened by their master's triumph, let out cheers of victory. The air buzzed with their glee, the sound sharp and grating against the backdrop of grief. Only a few stood quietly, Wormtail, Barty Crouch and Narcissa Malfoy among them.
"He is dead," Voldemort's voice echoed through the courtyard, smooth and filled with twisted delight. "The so-called Chosen One, nothing more than a foolish child who dared defy me. And now, he is nothing."
"Kill them," he said coldly, his red eyes gleaming with malice.
A wave of cold horror swept through the defenders. Cries of protest rang out.
"No!" Amelia's voice rang out sharply, her Aurors raising their wands in protest. "You gave your word—Harry died for this!"
"And you trusted me?" Voldemort laughed, the sound low and venomous. "Fools. There is no word but mine, and my will is absolute."
In a surprising act of defiance, Barty, who's frame looked gaunt and on the verge of collapse, apparated towards the Aurors, the child he was meant to kill in his grasp and shoved them into their arms.
"I owed Harry Potter a life debt," he whispered, before disapparating away.
Shouts of surprise and shock echoed through the Darks ranks, but the moment was lost in the scene of Bellatrix's mania.
Bellatrix, face alight with twisted glee, shoved Evan, the little Slytherin boy Harry had taken under his wing, to the ground. His wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto Harry's lifeless form as Bellatrix raised her wand.
"Avada Ked—"
A sound tore through the night, staying their wands.
It was a roar, not of rage, but of soul-deep anguish. A sound so raw and primal it shook the ground beneath their feet.
The air trembled as a shadow fell across the moonlit courtyard. All heads turned skyward, eyes wide as the source of the sound became visible—a massive, sleek figure cutting through the clouds with wings spread wide. Her dark scales gleamed in the moonlight, and her furious, golden eyes burned like twin suns.
She flew low and fast, her wings beating with a desperate, frantic power, the wind howling in her wake. The sight of her, a creature so magnificent, so fiercely protective, struck awe and terror in equal measure.
"Nox…" Blaise whispered, his voice trembling.
She landed with a resounding thud, claws digging into the stone, her wings flaring wide to shield Harry's fallen body from view. Dust swirled around her as she folded them back, lowering her massive head, her nostrils flaring as she scented the air.
"Mother?" Her voice trembled through the courtyard, though they didn't understand, the mournful sound she released was pulling at the heartstrings of all who heard.
Her snout nudged his limp form as if her touch alone could rouse him from his eternal sleep. But Harry didn't move.
"Mother… why are you sleeping?" Her voice broke on the last word, a pained whimper in the back of her throat.
When no answer came, a tremor ran through her body. She tried again—this time more forceful—pushing at his side, her talons scraping against the stone. "Mother… wake up…"
Still, nothing.
The bond that had always connected them—a golden thread of warmth and love—was gone. The emptiness where Harry's magic should have been left her cold, hollow in a way she had never known.
"No…" The word was a broken whisper, and then—another roar. This one full of rage, of denial.
Luna broke free from Neville's grasp, tears streaming down her pale face as she stumbled forward. "Nox," she called softly, her voice shaking. "Nox, please…"
The dragon's head snapped toward her, and for one terrifying moment, Luna thought Nox wouldn't recognise her. Her golden eyes burned with something feral, wild and wounded and her lips curled back in a snarl.
"Nox," Luna tried again, her voice breaking as she reached out a trembling hand. "Please—it's me."
But Nox wasn't listening.
The realisation of Harry's death hit her like a physical blow, something primal snapping inside her chest. She turned her head toward the sky and let out a sound that was nothing short of devastation—a wail of mourning that echoed through the very earth itself. The clouds above seemed to shudder, lightning crackling faintly across their edges in response.
Voldemort, watching from his position, tilted his head, an amused smile curling his lips.
"How… touching," he said softly, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "A dragon mourning her fallen master. But why should you cry, little one? Your mother was weak—he chose death. But I—" his voice lowered to a hiss "—I offer you strength."
He shifted into Parseltongue, the words sliding like oil into Nox's ears. "Join me," he offered. "You have no one left. I will give you power—freedom. Never again will you be bound to a weak human."
Nox froze, her golden eyes narrowing as she fixed her gaze on the serpent-faced man who had stolen her mother from her.
"You killed my mother," she hissed back in flawless Parseltongue. "And I will burn your world to ash."
Before he could react, she let loose a stream of brilliant, red burning flames. It roared toward Voldemort's position with deadly accuracy.
Voldemort vanished in a crack of displaced air, but at least fifteen Death Eaters, Wormtail among them, weren't fast enough. Their screams were cut short as the dragonfire engulfed them, reducing their bodies to charred remnants in seconds.
The light from the blaze cast harsh shadows across the battlefield, but Nox didn't stop. She lowered her head, her chest expanding with another breath—ready to burn every last one of them.
Voldemort reappeared several feet away, his expression twisted in fury. "If you will not bow," he spat, "then you will die with the rest of them."
His red eyes glinted with malice as he turned toward his followers. "Kill the spares," he ordered coldly, flicking his wand toward the six trembling first-years. "Their lives mean nothing. Then kill the rest."
Bellatrix Lestrange grinned gleefully at Evan who was still on the ground. "Barty may have broken but I'm not weak like him," she purred, her wand lifting, the sickly green light already forming. "Avada Kedavra!"
The curse flew through the air and never reached their targets.
A blinding shield, shimmering like starlight, erupted between the children and the oncoming spells. The curses rebounded with violent force, striking several Death Eaters. Bellatrix barely had time to leap aside, her face twisted in fury as the bodies of her comrades crumpled to the ground.
"What—what is this?!" she shrieked, her voice raw with disbelief.
The ethereal light stretched across the battlefield, a radiant barrier of protection, warm and bright. The shield seemed to pulse with life, wrapping itself around the defenders of Hogwarts, coating them in a delicate shimmer—like the mist of a Patronus, only deeper, stronger.
Gasps of astonishment rippled through the courtyard as those on Harry's side felt the warmth curling around their skin, an unmistakable touch. Blaise let out a broken laugh recognising the magic, choking on his tears. "It's him," he whispered. "It's Harry."
Grimbok's sharp eyes widened in disbelief, his voice rough with emotion. "The boy… that damned boy… he did this."
Luna's tear-streaked face lifted toward the sky, her breath catching as she spoke, her voice trembling but filled with fierce conviction. "Harry was his mother's son after all," she said softly, her words carrying through the night.
Nox crooned softly, feeling Harry's magic dance along her scales, "Mother?"
The gathered crowd stilled, hanging on her every word.
Voldemort's eyes narrowed, but Luna pressed on, seeing something no one else did. "He doesn't understand… he never did," she said, her voice growing stronger with each syllable. "He asked Lily Potter to stand aside three times, and her sacrifice protected Harry."
Neville's breath hitched, realisation dawning. "Harry swore—he swore three times that he was willing," he murmured. "For the innocent and the just."
"And there is nothing innocent or just about you and your ilk," Grimbok snarled at Voldemort, his voice filled with disgust.
The Death Eaters who had been celebrating their victory moments before shifted uneasily, casting wary glances at the shimmering shield that defied their master's will.
"You're afraid," Amelia said quietly, watching Voldemort with cold, calculating eyes. "Aren't you, Tom? Because Harry has done what you never could—he gave everything, willingly, out of love. And that is something you will never understand."
Voldemort's face twisted with rage, his fingers curling around his wand. "Enough of this foolishness! KILL THEM ALL!"
The Death Eaters raised their wands, but the light grew stronger.
Blaise and Neville exchanged a glance, their grief burning into action. "Accio!" they cried in unison, their magic snapping through the air. The enchanted chains binding the first-years shattered, and the children flew toward them with frightened cries. Bystanders caught them, holding them close, as protective arms wrapped around the sobbing students.
A volley of Killing Curses shot toward them, but the shimmering shield flared, turning each deadly curse back on its casters. Several Death Eaters fell, their bodies slumping to the ground.
"They can't touch us," Blaise said, his voice tinged with awe. "He won't let them."
Voldemort gave a screech of rage, "You forget who I am! You dare defy me!"
His wand rose again, the tip glowing with a sickly green light, but before he could cast, a crack of thunder split the sky.
The air grew thick with magic as static danced across the battlefield, crackling over the stones beneath their feet.
And from the storm clouds above, a shadow began to move.
Nox froze, her golden eyes widening as recognition flooded through her broken heart.
"Brother," she whispered.
Lightning flashed again, illuminating the massive figure cutting through the clouds—a dragon, sleek and powerful, its scales as white as the moonlight and his wingspan dwarfing even Nox's. The scent of magic swelled in the air, wrapping around her like a balm to her pain.
~
The sky trembled.
Altair circled the battlefield in wide, furious arcs, his massive wings cutting through the air with every beat. Lightning crackled across the clouds above him, casting jagged flashes of white against the bloodied ground. His heart was thundering—raging—with something he had never felt before. Something cold and empty.
The bond—his bond with Mother—was gone.
And that void burned more than any fire ever could.
He had felt it snap the moment he fell. Felt the pulse of magic ripple through the earth like a death knell. But still—still—he would not accept it. Could not accept it.
No. No, no, no.
Mother wasn't gone. He wouldn't allow it.
A tremor ran down his spine, the static building along his scales as he swooped low over the field, his eyes straining to find his mother, despite his near blindness.
Nothing.
He let out a roar—long, aching, and raw—one that seemed to split the very air.
The clouds above darkened in answer, heavy and angry. The air became thick with tension, the taste of ozone sharp against the tongue. Stray bolts of lightning lashed out, striking the ground indiscriminately.
"Mother!" Altair cried out, his voice vibrating through the sky like thunder itself. "Mother, answer me!"
When silence was the only response, his magic trembled—then shattered. A flash of blinding light erupted across the heavens as the static energy he had built surged to a singular point, bright and burning.
~
The sound of waves.
Soft, rhythmic—washing over jagged rocks and white sands.
Harry groaned softly, as he stirred against the warm sand beneath him. He blinked against the blinding sunlight filtering through his lashes.
For a breathless moment, he felt... peaceful.
The breeze brushed softly against his skin, carrying the familiar salty tang of the sea. The distant call of gulls echoed somewhere above him. He pressed his palm to the ground, feeling the fine grains of sand between his fingers.
He knew this place.
The cove.
His chest tightened as he pushed himself upright, confused. He wore only a pair of lightweight cotton trousers—white and soft against his skin—and his bare feet sunk into the sand.
He frowned, brushing his hands over the fabric. When did I change?
He scanned the shoreline, searching for familiar figures.
"Nox?" His voice wavered slightly. "Altair? Lyra?"
Silence.
Panic began to rise in his chest as he scrambled to his feet, his heart thundering painfully in his ribcage. He turned toward the jagged cliffs where their nests usually rested, hoping—praying—to see the familiar glint of dark scales or the flash of golden eyes.
But there was nothing.
His breath caught. "Orion? Cassie? Vega?" His voice grew louder, more desperate. "Where are you?!"
Still, nothing.
Harry's pulse quickened as dread crept in. He broke into a run, bare feet pounding against the warm sand as he made for the cottage. The door stood slightly ajar, swaying softly in the breeze.
He pushed it open. Only to find himself back on the beach where he had started.
"What the…" His heart pounded in confusion.
"Where is everyone?" His voice cracked.
A soft chuckle echoed behind him, light and familiar.
"You always were stubborn, Harry."
Harry spun around, and his breath caught in his throat.
Tom.
But not the Voldemort who haunted his nightmares—not the twisted, snake-faced monster who destroyed everything he loved. This was Tom Riddle—as he had appeared in the diary. Seventeen, handsome and proud, his dark hair falling into his blue eyes.
And smiling—smiling—like nothing had ever gone wrong.
Harry took a stumbling step backward, shaking his head. "No. You're not real."
Tom tilted his head, his smile widening just slightly. "Aren't I?" He stepped closer, barefoot on the sand, his voice soft and almost teasing. "Think, Harry. What happened? Don't you remember?"
Harry opened his mouth, then froze.
His mind flooded with memory. The courtyard. The first years. Saying goodbye to Luna. The weight of the Resurrection Stone in his hand. And then—
"I died," he whispered.
Tom's expression softened, and he gave a small, sad nod. "Yes."
"So this is…" Harry gestured helplessly at the shoreline. "The Plains of Asphodel? Or… purgatory?"
Tom chuckled—a warm, rich sound that made Harry's heart twist. "What, not aiming for Elysium?"
Despite himself, Harry laughed softly. "Maybe I'm not the poster child for paradise."
Tom's smile faded slightly as he stepped closer, his gaze gentling. "I don't have long," he murmured. "But I begged to be here—to see you. One last time."
Harry swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly dry. "Why?"
Tom's gaze grew heavy with something unreadable—something raw. "Because," he said softly, reaching out to brush his knuckles along Harry's jawline, "I never wanted it to end this way. I've been so close, yet so far all these years. Watching you, protecting you. Ever since my diary was destroyed."
The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down Harry's spine.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Tom whispered. "For everything. For all the pain I caused you."
Harry huffed a soft, shaky laugh. "Is this remorse, Tom?" His voice was teasing, but his heart ached.
Tom smiled faintly, his expression heartbreakingly vulnerable. "Perhaps. This is me asking for forgiveness."
Harry exhaled slowly, his heart thudding in his chest. "You and Voldemort… You're not the same. You never were. I see that now, I've always seen that. And I… I forgive you."
Tom's eyes widened slightly—shocked, then softening into something achingly tender. "I would've burned the world for you," he admitted, his voice quiet and raw. "In another life, I would've made you happy."
Harry's breath hitched again as Tom's hand curled behind his neck, pulling him close.
"Just once," Tom whispered. "Before I go."
And then he kissed him.
It was fierce and desperate—a kiss filled with every unsaid word, every missed chance. Harry's hands found their way to Tom's chest, curling into the thin fabric as if trying to hold him in place, to keep him there just a little longer.
But as Tom pulled back, his smile trembled.
Golden light had begun to crawl along his fingertips.
"It's time," he murmured.
"No—" Harry started, but Tom just smiled softly, tilting his head.
"Until we meet again, my darling," he whispered, and with one last touch of his fingers against Harry's cheek, he dissolved into golden dust—scattering into the wind.
"So long, Tom," he whispered brokenly.
A voice behind him, warm and familiar, cut through the silence.
"That was a touching moment, but don't worry he'll get another chance."
Harry whirled around, eyes wide.
The man standing before him on the shoreline was tall and regal, with long black hair streaked with silver. His features were sharp, aristocratic but there was kindness behind his keen dark eyes. He wore simple robes of black and silver, but there was an air about him—something ancient. Something powerful.
Harry's lips trembled. "I—Ignotus?" His voice cracked.
A warm smile curved the man's lips. "Hello, Harrison," he said softly.
Before he could stop himself, Harry surged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around the older man. His fingers clutched at the soft fabric of his robes as though anchoring himself in reality.
Ignotus stiffened for a moment in surprise before his arms came around Harry in a firm, steadying embrace.
"You've had a hard day, haven't you, my child?" he murmured, his voice warm with understanding.
A choked, sob escaped Harry. "You could say that," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut against the hot prick of tears.
Finally, Harry pulled back, swiping at his damp eyes with the back of his hand. "Is this… real?" he asked quietly. "Or is this just in my head?"
Ignotus chuckled, a low, comforting sound. "Why should it not be both?" he said with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Yes, Harry. This is real. You are standing between the worlds, on the threshold between life and death."
Harry swallowed hard, his throat tight. "So, I really did die, then." It wasn't a question.
Ignotus's smile faded into something softer, sadder. "Yes," he said gently. "You accepted death willingly and it welcomed you as an old friend."
The truth of it settled over Harry's chest.
"I guess I knew it would come to this," Harry admitted quietly. "Since the day we found out about the Horcrux in me. But—" His voice caught slightly. "I didn't expect it to feel so… final."
Ignotus reached out, cupping the side of Harry's face with a gentleness that made his heart twist painfully. "Nothing is ever truly final, child," he said softly. "Especially for you."
Harry's brows furrowed in confusion.
"Did it work?" he blurted out. "Did my sacrifice work? Are the children safe—did the ritual power the crystal?"
Ignotus laughed quietly, his dark eyes warm with pride. "Your willing sacrifice did more than power the crystal," he said with a shake of his head. "Your magic—your soul—protected them all." He smiled faintly. "You truly are your mother's son."
Harry blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Ignotus chuckled again. "You forget, Harry, there is power in selfless sacrifice. Your mother's love saved you once. Tonight, your love saved everyone who stood by your side."
Harry's heart stuttered. "Everyone?" he asked breathlessly.
"Everyone who believes in you," Ignotus confirmed with a solemn nod. "Your magic shields them—even now. Your protection is woven into their very beings. Voldemort cannot touch those under your love's power—not without consequence."
A shudder ran through Harry's frame as relief flooded through him. "They're safe," he whispered. "Thank Merlin… they're safe."
Ignotus's expression softened. "It was a gift only you could give," he said quietly. "And, Harry—it was enough. You've done enough."
Harry swallowed thickly against the lump forming in his throat.
His voice trembled. "What about Luna?" he asked hesitantly. "Will she… will she make it? Will the ritual work to take her to the other world?"
A shadow of sorrow passed over Ignotus's face, but his voice was steady when he answered. "Yes," he said softly. "When the time is right, she will cross to the other world and live the life you fought so hard to give her."
Harry closed his eyes for a moment, letting the relief wash over him. "Thank you," he whispered. "That's all I wanted, to give her a future."
For a long moment, the only sound was the gentle rush of the waves.
"You're a remarkable young man," Ignotus said softly. "I have watched you sacrifice everything—again and again—for the people you love. Your heart burns brighter than any magic I have ever seen."
Harry opened his eyes and managed a weak, wry smile. "Not exactly the future I imagined for myself," he admitted. "But it was worth it. If I could save them—if I could save her—then I'd do it again."
Ignotus tilted his head thoughtfully. "And what of you, Harry? What do you want now?"
The question startled him.
Harry hesitated, glancing around at the endless shoreline—the stretch of soft sand meeting the shimmering blue horizon.
"What can I want?" he asked quietly. "I'm dead. I made my choice. There's nothing else to do."
Ignotus laughed softly, shaking his head. "You are a breath of fresh air," he murmured, eyes glittering with quiet amusement. "Always so quick to accept fate as if it were a burden you must carry alone."
Harry flushed, shuffling his feet in the sand. "It's all I've ever known," he admitted. "I never really thought about what happens after."
A long pause stretched between them before Harry's voice softened, thoughtful and faraway. "I used to wonder when I was a child—when I was locked in that cupboard—if there was something more waiting out there." He laughed quietly to himself. "Anything that promised another world beyond the one I knew. It was nice, having something to believe in."
Ignotus listened quietly, his eyes unreadable as Harry continued.
"But then I realised—" Harry's voice grew quieter, more contemplative. "The truth is, there's only one real constant in all those stories."
A small smile tugged at the corners of Ignotus's lips. "And do you fear it?" he asked softly.
Harry shook his head. "No," he said, surprising even himself. "I don't." His voice was steady. "It's… a promise. A gift."
The wind stirred softly around them, and the waves whispered against the shore.
Ignotus's smile widened, warm and knowing. "You understand more than most ever will," he murmured. "And for that… perhaps there is something still waiting for you, Harry."
Harry blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"
But Ignotus merely extended his hand.
"Come," he said gently. "There is still much to tell you."
With a deep breath, Harry reached out and took his hand.
"You're not really Ignotus, are you?" Harry asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the waves.
The man smiled and tilted his head. "Does it matter who I am?" His tone was gentle, yet it held the weight of something ancient, something beyond Harry's comprehension.
Harry hesitated before shaking his head slightly. "I suppose not," he admitted. "But… why am I here? Why did you bring me here?"
Ignotus stepped closer, the wind catching the edges of his dark robes. "Belief is a powerful thing, Harry," he began softly. "More powerful than most wizards ever realise. You—of all people—should know that by now."
Harry furrowed his brows in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"What do you think happens when millions of witches and wizards read the same story. Over and over again?"
Harry's heart pounded in his chest as realisation began to bloom. "The Tale of the Three Brothers," he whispered.
Ignotus nodded, his expression warm with approval. "Yes. A story passed down through generations. Children hearing of the Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, the Invisibility Cloak… and believing. Wishing. Manifesting. It became more than just a fairytale. It became real."
"But the Hallows were created by the brothers," Harry said, frowning. "They weren't gifts from Death."
Ignotus chuckled, the sound rich with amusement. "We know that," he agreed, "but truth is not always what people believe. Enough belief… a spark… and even the impossible becomes reality." His smile faded into something more serious. "And what is the one thing people covet most from that tale, Harry?"
Harry swallowed, his voice quiet. "The title… the Master of Death." He shook his head firmly. "But no one can master Death. That's impossible."
"And yet," Ignotus murmured, "Dumbledore thought otherwise. He regretted ever returning the Cloak to you, you know." His voice was laced with dry humour. "He believed that with all three Hallows, he could claim the title for himself. When you unknowingly took possession of the Resurrection Stone, his ambitions crumbled further."
Harry's heart clenched with both anger and bitter understanding. "So that's what he wanted," he whispered.
Ignotus inclined his head. "A dangerous ambition, not his only one," he said softly. "And yet, Harry… you have done what he never could." His dark eyes gleamed. "You have unknowingly mastered all three Hallows."
Harry shook his head in denial, stepping back as though the truth might burn him. "I've never even seen the Elder Wand," he protested.
A knowing smile curved Ignotus's lips. "Ah, but you have." He tilted his head slightly. "Think, Harry. Who did you disarm last August?"
"Dumbledore," he whispered, stunned.
Ignotus gave a pleased nod. "Yes. With that act, the wand became yours—whether you realised it or not."
The storm above them rumbled, lightning flashing across the sky like veins of silver fire. Harry tilted his head back, feeling the cool rain begin to fall—soft droplets against his heated skin. It felt real. Too real.
"You stand at a crossroads, Harry," Ignotus said, stepping closer. "Neither fully dead nor truly alive. You've earned the right to choose."
Harry felt the weight of those words settle in his chest. "I… I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "After everything—after all I've done—will they even want me back?"
Ignotus's expression softened with something akin to paternal pride. He placed a warm hand on Harry's neck, his thumb brushing lightly over his pulse point. "You are so loved, Harry," he said gently. "More than you know. Even now, they cry for you. Their magic—their belief—is calling you home."
The storm seemed to tremble beneath those words, as if answering the pain of those still living.
"They need you," Ignotus continued softly. "Your family. Your dragons. And one little wolf cub who will never understand why his father didn't come back."
A tear slid down Harry's cheek unbidden. His voice broke slightly. "And if I go back… will it be worth it?"
Ignotus's smile was both sad and proud. "Only you can answer that, child," he murmured. "But tell me—if you had the chance to see them again… wouldn't you take it?"
Lightning cracked across the sky, and a distant roar echoed through the heavens—a sound Harry would know anywhere.
His heart twisted painfully.
"Nox… Altair…" he whispered. His vision blurred with tears as the truth settled into his bones. "They're calling for me."
Ignotus chuckled quietly, though there was an edge of sadness in his eyes. "You've always been a powerful elemental, Harry," he mused. "But there's one element you've overlooked."
Harry tilted his head. "Lightning," he murmured.
"The wildest of the elements," Ignotus confirmed, raising a hand toward the storm. "And your little Altair is shaping it with his grief. If you wish to return…" He smiled faintly. "All it will take is one little spark." With that he clicked his fingers, and everything went black once more.
~
The blinding bolt struck the fallen figure with a crack so loud it shook the very ground beneath their feet. The courtyard flooded with searing light, forcing everyone to shield their eyes.
For a long, breathless moment, there was only silence—thick and expectant.
Then—a gasp.
A violent, shuddering breath tore from Harry's lungs as his heart slammed back into rhythm. His eyes snapped open—bright, burning emerald.
He was alive.
The moment the lightning struck Harry's body, everything changed.
The air crackled with static, every hair on the back of Voldemort's followers standing on end as an unnatural hush fell over the courtyard.
The silence broke when Nox let out a heart-wrenching roar.
She landed hard, her talons gouging the stone as her golden eyes frantically scanned the battlefield. "Mother?" Her voice trembled, broken with disbelief.
A second roar echoed through the sky as Altair descended, lightning still sparking across his iridescent wings. He landed beside his sister, his snout gently brushing against Harry's hand.
"I—I brought him back," Altair whispered, as if reassuring himself. "I brought Mother back!" His voice cracked with desperation.
Harry let out a weak, breathless laugh as his fingers curled into Altair's warm scales. "You did, my brave boy…" he rasped, his voice rough but alive.
The sound sent a jolt through the gathered crowd. He was alive.
"Harry!" Luna's voice pierced through the noise of the battlefield, raw and trembling with joy. She was running toward him before she even realised her legs were moving, tears streaking down her pale face.
The next thing he knew, she collided with him, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck as she sobbed into his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Harry murmured, voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to break my promises. I'm not leaving you again. I swear it, Luna. I'm staying."
"You—" Luna hiccupped through her tears, holding onto him as though he might disappear again. "You idiot! I thought—I thought I lost you!" She pulled back just enough to cup his face between her trembling hands. "You're never allowed to do that again. Never."
"I promise," Harry whispered, kissing her forehead softly, tears welling up in his own eyes.
From across the courtyard, Evan's voice rang out—raw and joyful. "Harry!" The small boy was sobbing, still held in Neville's arms, his face buried against the older boy's shoulder.
The light side was in chaos—a chaos of hope—as people cheered and cried in disbelief. The Boy Who Lived… again.
From the other side, however, there was only cold, disbelieving silence.
And then… Voldemort's voice, trembling with rage.
"Impossible."
Harry turned his gaze toward the Dark Lord, his emerald eyes blazing with a light that refused to die. He gently eased Luna aside, giving her hand a final squeeze before he stood—his body aching, his magic stretched thin—but his resolve unwavering.
"Impossible?" Harry drawled, his voice clear and steady despite the exhaustion gripping his bones.
Voldemort's eyes narrowed dangerously.
Harry continued stepping forward as arcs of electricity danced between his fingertips.
Grimbok's gravelly voice cut through the charged air as he approached Harry, a knowing smirk on his face. "I believe this belongs to you," he said, extending Harry's wand toward him.
Harry chuckled softly, grasping the wand. "Thought about keeping it for yourself?"
Grimbok snorted. "Trust me, wizard, it's tempting. But I suppose I'd miss your idiotic bravery too much."
"Touching," Harry teased, despite the adrenaline pounding through his veins.
"You two finished flirting?" Blaise called from the side, his voice cracking slightly with barely-restrained relief.
The moment shattered when Voldemort raised his wand, fury blazing across his pale face.
"This ends now, Potter!" he hissed, his voice raw.
Harry tilted his head and smiled grimly. "You're right," he murmured. "Let's finish this—the way it started. Together."
Lightning crackled through the air again—Harry's answer to Voldemort's rage—and he let it loose with a push of his palms. A brilliant arc of electricity surged forward, striking down a line of Death Eaters before they could react. Some fell twitching; others crumpled, unmoving.
Voldemort snarled in fury, slashing his wand through the air as deadly curses flew toward Harry.
Harry didn't flinch.
He absorbed the raw magic, twisting the energy into shimmering tendrils of lightning that lashed out with deadly precision. He advanced on Voldemort—one step, then another—with the power of a storm made flesh.
The battle exploded around them.
Aurors clashed with Death Eaters. Nox and Altair circled the skies above, releasing torrents of fire that shattered the enemy's ranks, Nox leading Altair to the remaining giants and trolls. Neville and Blaise—sword flashing—fought their way through the fray toward their true target.
Harry barely registered the screams of pain and defiance. His entire focus was on Voldemort—the twisted soul before him who had stolen so much.
They fought viciously—magic colliding in a brilliant, deadly dance.
"You could've been so different," Harry rasped as he blocked a particularly vicious curse.
Voldemort's face twisted into a mask of hatred. "I need nothing but power."
Harry shook his head softly. "You're wrong."
Harry could hear Neville's triumphant shout as he sliced Nagini's head off.
Then, almost too quietly, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Tom."
Before Voldemort could react, Harry stepped in close and plunged a basilisk fang dagger deep into his chest.
Voldemort gasped, his red eyes wide with a rare expression—shock. His fingers trembled as they brushed against the dagger's hilt.
"Your Horcruxes are gone," Harry whispered, voice soft but unyielding. "You don't have to be afraid anymore. Death is a gift, Tom. Not a curse."
Voldemort's knees buckled beneath him as his body finally gave out. For the first time in his twisted existence… he fell.
Harry gently lowered him to the ground, allowing his lifeless form to settle against the stone. For all his hatred, Harry still offered him the dignity of a quiet death.
Silence fell over the battlefield as the reality of Voldemort's demise settled like a heavy shroud.
"The Dark Lord Voldemort is no more," Harry's voice rang across the courtyard—steady, commanding, undeniable. "Surrender your wands—or you will join him in death."
Nox landed heavily behind him, her massive wings flaring wide in a terrifying display. Some Death Eaters immediately dropped their wands—Draco among them—while others trembled in the face of their leader's destruction.
"Burn him," Harry murmured to Nox.
The dragon obeyed.
A pillar of brilliant flame engulfed Voldemort's body, reducing the Dark Lord to nothing but ash.
And with that… the war was over.
As the last Death Eaters were subdued, Harry felt his magic drain from those he had protected. The starlight-like mist danced over their skin before floating back toward him—his magic returning home.
"It seems," Harry whispered to Luna as the world faded to black, "that the stars will always come back to its moon after all."
~
The first thing Harry registered was warmth, a comforting, familiar weight pressing against his chest. He let out a soft groan, shifting slightly as his senses began to return. His entire body ached with a bone-deep exhaustion, but it was the lightness in his heart—the absence of that ever-present darkness—that nearly brought him to tears.
It was over.
Voldemort was dead.
A soft snuffling sound reached his ears, followed by a weight on his hand. Harry tilted his head slightly to see a familiar shock of white-blonde hair tangled against his shoulder.
She looked… free, her usual burden of visions and prophecies lifted for the first time in years.
Harry exhaled quietly, letting his gaze sweep across the infirmary.
Neville, Blaise, and Theo were all slumped in conjured chairs around his bed, their heads tilted at awkward angles. A soft snore came from the farthest corner of the room, and when Harry shifted his gaze, he couldn't help but huff a quiet laugh.
Grimbok.
The goblin was sprawled out in a chair that was far too small for his broad frame, his mouth slightly open as he snored. The sight was both ridiculous and… endearing.
Harry didn't want to wake them but he needed answers. He swallowed, his throat dry and scratchy, and whispered, "Grimbok."
The reaction was immediate.
The goblin startled awake with a choked grunt, nearly tipping over in his chair before catching himself. His black eyes snapped to Harry, widening in disbelief and relief.
"Mother's fangs—" Grimbok swore under his breath, his usual composure cracking. He was halfway out of his seat before Harry frantically motioned for him to keep quiet, glancing down at Luna still asleep on his chest.
"Shh," Harry murmured, a weak smile tugging at his lips. "You'll wake the others."
Grimbok let out a breathless laugh, sinking back into his chair. "You're awake, you reckless idiot."
"I'm awake," Harry confirmed, his voice softer. "What… what happened?"
Grimbok's expression softened, and for a moment, the fierce goblin looked almost fond. "After your magic returned to you—when the protection from your sacrifice faded—you collapsed. Scared the life out of your friends," he added with a grumble. "You've been unconscious for nearly three days."
Harry blinked in surprise. "Three days?"
Grimbok nodded. "Amelia ordered the press kept out, though they've been hounding the castle gates. My warriors have been standing guard. No one comes through that door unless we allow it."
Harry's chest warmed at the thought of Grimbok's clan standing sentry. "Thank you," he whispered sincerely. "I never would've asked this of you… but I'm so grateful you came."
Grimbok's face twisted into something fierce and raw. "If you ever pull a reckless, stupid, noble stunt like that again, Potter, I'll have you shackled to my clan's hoard for the rest of your days."
Harry laughed softly, his heart lighter than it had been in years. "You'd really want to deal with me for that long?"
Grimbok snorted. "It would be the bane of my existence—but someone has to keep you alive."
Harry's smile faltered slightly as he remembered what still needed to be done. "What… what's happening now? Voldemort is gone—I made sure of that. But…"
Grimbok's grin turned sly. "Turns out the wizarding world was in awe of our cooperation. Even King Ragnok has publicly acknowledged you as a friend of the goblin nation to avoid any of the tensions." His smile slipped into a scowl. "Though the Bloodfang clan is still causing trouble. They claim we've become too soft—as if there's anything soft about going into battle."
Harry shook his head with a fond chuckle. "I don't know how to thank you."
"Don't," Grimbok growled. "Just stay alive."
Before Harry could respond, a quiet voice interrupted their conversation. "You're awake," Blaise murmured from his chair.
Harry's smile grew as Blaise stretched, trying to shake off his exhaustion. "And you're still dramatic, I see," Harry teased, voice light but filled with affection.
Blaise rolled his eyes but grinned. "Well, someone has to be."
"Where's Nox?" Harry asked suddenly, a flicker of worry passing through his chest. "And Altair?"
Grimbok chuckled. "They've been camped beneath the infirmary windows since you collapsed. It's been a spectacle. The press has already given them ridiculous names, 'The Black Fury' and 'The God of the Sky.'"
Harry huffed out a breathless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Of course they have," he murmured.
"You know," Blaise said, smirking slightly. "They're calling you 'The Man Who Conquered.'"
Harry groaned softly. "Merlin's beard, that's worse than 'The Boy Who Lived'."
"You'll get used to it," Blaise quipped.
A low mutter came from the other side of the bed as Neville stirred, blinking the sleep from his eyes. His hand clutched something gleaming, the Sword of Gryffindor with its sheath covering the blade.
"It's been trying to get back to you," Neville said quietly, extending the sword toward Harry. "It let me use it to kill Nagini… but I think it always knew who it truly belonged to."
Harry hesitated before slowly taking the sword's hilt.
He turned to Grimbok, expression earnest. "It belongs to your people," Harry said softly. "I want you to have it—"
Grimbok's loud bark of laughter cut him off. "Don't be daft. That sword would vanish back to your side the moment you give it away."
Harry huffed a quiet laugh.
A soft groan came from his chest as Luna stirred. Her pale lashes fluttered before those wide silver eyes focused on him, and in an instant, tears welled up.
"Harry…" Her voice trembled.
"I'm here," he murmured. "I'm not leaving."
Tears spilled freely down her face as she clutched his robes, pressing herself against him. "Don't you ever do that again," she choked out. "I won't survive it."
Harry pressed a kiss to her temple, his own tears falling silently. "I swear," he promised.
Theo—silent until now—moved closer, his face pale and torn with emotion. "You can't—" His voice cracked. "You can't ask us to watch you walk to your death ever again."
Harry exhaled shakily. "I'm sorry," he said, voice raw. "I had to. But I promise, never again."
Grimbok cleared his throat, his tone softer now. "And the ritual?"
Harry felt the familiar weight of the crystal at his neck. "It more than worked," he murmured, fingers brushing against it. He turned to Theo and Luna. "We leave within four months—no more. We can't risk it."
Harry fell back asleep surprisingly fast after that.
~
Harry woke again the next morning, to sunlight streaming through the windows. Most of the injured had already been healed and released, leaving the massive room quiet—save for the occasional murmured conversation.
It was the third day since the battle had ended.
He had insisted Grimbok and his clan return home to their families, despite the goblin's protests. No one had fought harder or braver by his side, and Harry made sure they knew how much their support had meant to him.
His body still ached with exhaustion, his magical core stretched thin and fragile from protecting so many. But the physical strain was nothing compared to the weight on his heart. Now alone, every time he closed his eyes, he saw the faces of those who had fallen—especially the students.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing his emotions back under control as the door to the infirmary creaked open.
Amelia walked in, her posture as sharp and commanding as ever, though her face was shadowed with exhaustion. She wore the deep navy robes of her office, her greying hair pulled into a severe bun. Despite her usual professionalism, her eyes softened when they met Harry's.
"I'm glad to see you awake, Harry," she said, settling into the chair by his bed.
Harry gave her a faint smile. "I'm hard to get rid of."
"That's an understatement," Amelia quipped, her lips twitching into a small smile. She sighed, her face growing serious. "We're still sorting through the aftermath. There's a lot to handle."
Harry rubbed his face tiredly. "Of course there is. What else is new?"
She chuckled softly before leaning forward. "We've captured the majority of the remaining Death Eaters. With Voldemort gone, their structure collapsed. Some tried to flee the country, but we had the borders warded within hours." Her expression darkened slightly. "The Malfoy's are in custody—along with several others. The trials will begin in a few days."
Harry sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. "You're going to be swamped. I don't envy you."
"Someone has to do it," Amelia said briskly. "I've made it very clear—every single person will receive a fair trial. We won't repeat the mistakes of the past."
"Good," Harry said softly, thinking of Sirius. "Ugh why did I think claiming my seats was a good idea."
Amelia shifted the conversation. "We raided Malfoy Manor as soon as the wards fell. It turns out Voldemort made himself the Secret Keeper, which is why we couldn't access it before." She grimaced. "The things we found…"
Harry's stomach twisted. "What did you find?"
"Prisoners," Amelia said grimly. "Ollivander, Fortescue, several missing Lords and muggleborns… and a number of witches and wizards who had been taken to be bitten."
"Greyback."
She nodded. "Unfortunately, we were too late for some. The curse had already taken hold. They'll need specialised care at St. Mungo's—but they're alive."
The knowledge did little to ease the ache in his chest. "And… how many did we lose?"
Amelia's face softened with grief. "Nineteen," she said quietly. "Most of them were Aurors… a few members of the Order. Professor Trelawney fell defending the astronomy tower. Lavender Brown—" her voice caught slightly, "—was killed trying to save a younger Hufflepuff from a Death Eater. Anthony Goldstein protecting his friends."
Harry closed his eyes, feeling the familiar weight of guilt settle on his shoulders.
"I was relieved to see how many made it," Amelia continued gently. "And… I understand the Weasley's owe you their brother's life."
Harry gave a faint smile. "Fred's a pain in the arse, but… he doesn't deserve to die under a pile of rubble."
"Speaking of the Weasleys," Amelia said carefully, "I was told that Ron and Hermione Granger didn't… participate. Not that I approve of anyone not of age going into battle, it seems that the younger years that were kept in the Chamber didn't like their cowardice."
Harry snorted softly, shaking his head. "I dread to think what the younger years did to them."
Amelia's lips thinned. "The public won't forget who stood and fought—and who didn't. No matter how loudly Dumbledore shouts."
Harry's brow furrowed. "What's he doing now?"
"Stirring up trouble," Amelia said flatly. "He's trying to convince the public that Voldemort isn't really dead. People are calling him mad—he wasn't even here for the battle, and now he's scrambling to make himself relevant."
Harry snorted in disbelief. "They're actually turning on him?"
"They're not blind, Harry," Amelia said, shaking her head. "They saw you—not him—save their lives."
Before Harry could respond, the door opened again, and a familiar head of sleek, greying hair peeked in.
Andromeda.
"Andro—?" Harry began but stopped short when his eyes fell on the wriggling bundle in her arms.
A soft, warm smile spread across his face, his heart swelling at the sight of the tiny boy.
Teddy's face lit up the moment he saw Harry. He squealed with delight, little fists waving in the air.
Andromeda chuckled quietly. "Someone's missed you, Harry," she said, moving closer.
Harry held out his hands eagerly. "Come here, cub."
The moment Teddy was placed in his arms, his inner wolf stirred, rumbling in contentment as the familiar scent of his claimed cub filled his senses. He nuzzled Teddy's soft curls, unable to stop himself from subtly scent-marking the baby.
Teddy giggled and reached up, gripping Harry's nose with surprising strength.
"Oi," Harry laughed softly. "You're going to break that, you little menace."
Andromeda smiled sadly. "He's been inconsolable the past few days. I knew he wanted you."
Harry's laughter faded into something softer as he met her gaze. "I'm so sorry, Andromeda. Ted was… so brave. He saved so many."
Tears glistened in her eyes, but her voice remained steady. "Thank you, Harry," she murmured. "For everything. You gave us hope when we had none left."
Harry shifted Teddy in his arms. "Where are Tonks and Remus?"
Andromeda's mouth tightened slightly. "Tonks is back at work—she's barely home. And Remus…" She sighed heavily. "He's… avoiding the house. He's working with the Order to capture the last of the Death Eaters."
Coward, his wolf growled.
Before he could respond, the door to the infirmary burst open—and in poured the rest of his misfits.
"He's awake!" Luna cried joyfully, launching herself at Harry and nearly dislodging Teddy.
"Easy!" Harry laughed, shifting the baby. "I'm fragile."
Theo snorted. "You died and came back, Potter. I think you can handle a hug."
Blaise smirked faintly, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Admit it—you missed us."
Harry looked around at his family and smiled.
"It's been 12 hours…of course I missed all of you," he said.
As Amelia rose from her seat, her keen eyes swept the room one last time before settling on Harry. She adjusted her cloak, the crisp navy fabric brushing against the infirmary floor.
"I'll send a formal summons when the trials begin," she said, her voice all business again. "The Wizengamot will need everyone."
Harry inclined his head respectfully. "I'll be ready."
Amelia's mouth softened into something almost like a smile. "Rest while you can, Lord Potter-Black. Knowing you, trouble will find you again soon enough."
"Wouldn't be my life otherwise," Harry quipped lightly, though the exhaustion in his voice was undeniable.
With a final nod to the others, Amelia turned and strode toward the exit, her posture as unyielding as ever.
Andromeda shifted Teddy in her arms, her gaze drifting toward the window where the sun hung low, casting golden streaks across the sky. There was a distant, haunted look in her eyes—one Harry recognised all too well.
"I'm going to stretch my legs for a bit," she murmured, not meeting his gaze.
Maybe she's going to see where Ted fell. He didn't press her, only nodding quietly.
"I'll take care of him," Harry promised softly, holding out his hands. "You need time, Andromeda."
The baby let out a delighted gurgle, immediately grabbing at Harry's hair with his tiny fingers.
Andromeda hesitated for a moment longer before inclining her head. "Thank you," she whispered and slipped quietly from the room.
The door clicked softly behind her.
"Alright, little cub," Harry grinned, bouncing Teddy gently, "ready to meet your extended, very loud, and slightly insane family?"
Teddy squealed with laughter, his face lighting up as he grabbed at the air in excitement.
"Merlin's beard, Harry," Blaise breathed, leaning closer with a smirk. "You're ridiculously proud, aren't you?"
Harry lifted his chin with mock arrogance. "Of course I am—look at him. Isn't he the most adorable cub you've ever seen?"
Blaise and Neville immediately devolved into squealing little girls, both leaning in to coo at the giggling baby.
"He's so tiny!" Neville exclaimed, his usual composure completely shattered. "And he's got a full head of hair—how is that even fair?"
Teddy let out another delighted gurgle, flapping his chubby arms toward Neville as if demanding more praise.
"Obviously superior genetics," Harry said with an air of mock superiority. "He's a Black—what did you expect?"
"Wait—did his eyes just turn green?" Neville gasped, sitting back in astonishment.
Harry chuckled softly, glancing down at Teddy's wide, sparkling emerald eyes—the exact shade of his own. "Yeah… I've been meaning to tell you guys. I think Teddy's a full Metamorphmagus."
Blaise blinked. "Like his mother?"
"Exactly," Harry nodded, smoothing a hand over Teddy's soft curls. "But I don't think Remus or Tonks spend enough time with him to realise it."
Blaise leaned back with a smirk. "We could always make them mysteriously disappear. You know—accidents happen. Then you could just adopt him."
The room fell into a sudden, contemplative silence as everyone stared at Blaise.
"…You're joking, right?" Neville asked, his voice half-wary, half-intrigued.
Blaise's smirk widened. "Depends. How attached are you to the idea of following the law?"
Theo snorted softly from his corner, arms crossed over his chest. "We could make it look like an accident," he mused. "No one would question it. Besides, you're clearly already raising him."
Harry laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Don't tempt me."
Luna, who had been quietly observing the conversation, tilted her head slightly. "Don't worry, Harry," she said softly, her dreamy voice full of certainty. "It will all work out. It always does in the end."
Her words settled something warm in Harry's heart, even as he sighed and shook his head fondly.
He turned back toward Theo, who had been suspiciously quiet. The normally unflappable Slytherin was shifting uncomfortably under the weight of Teddy's curious gaze.
Harry's lips curled into a wicked grin. "Hey, Theo—want to hold him?"
Theo's eyes widened slightly in alarm. "Absolutely not. I don't… I mean—I'm not one for babies."
"Oh, come on," Neville chuckled. "He's not going to bite."
Harry snickered. "Yet."
Theo took a visible step back, his nose wrinkling as though the mere idea of holding a baby was repulsive. "I'll pass, thanks. You seem to be doing fine without me."
Harry rolled his eyes but didn't push. "Your loss—he's pretty amazing."
As if to prove Harry's point, Teddy gave a loud, happy squeal and tugged on a strand of Harry's hair.
"See?" Harry beamed. "Amazing."
Blaise shook his head, still smirking. "You're going to spoil that cub rotten."
"I fully intend to while I can," Harry declared.
The laughter settled into a more comfortable quiet as everyone watched Harry cradle the baby with practiced ease. For a fleeting moment, things almost felt… normal.
Luna broke the silence softly, her tone thoughtful. "I promised Nox and Altair that you'd be home soon," she said. "They didn't want to leave—but the public's been… restless. People are begging the dragon handlers to take them to a reserve."
Harry's face darkened slightly at the thought of strangers trying to control his family.
"Charlie's refusing, though," Luna continued, a gentle smile playing at her lips. "He's been defending them—bringing them food and everything."
"Charlie Weasley," Blaise drawled, amusement flickering in his eyes, "defending dragons? Shocking."
Harry snorted softly but felt an undeniable warmth curl in his chest at the thought of Charlie watching over his hatchlings.
"I'll visit them soon," Harry promised quietly. "They probably think I abandoned them."
"Oh, they know you're coming back," Luna reassured him. "Dragons are patient when it comes to family."
"I'll have to thank Charlie," Harry mused. "He's been… good to them."
Blaise smirked, leaning closer. "I'd be good to him if he let me ride his dragon."
A stunned silence stretched through the room.
"Blaise…" Neville began slowly, his cheeks flushing a bright red. "Did you… hear what you just said?"
Harry snorted, shaking his head in exasperation. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Zabini."
Blaise, unapologetic, raised an eyebrow. "What? I meant literally. Besides we know he only wants Harry riding him." He finished with a smirk.
"Sure you did," Theo muttered, finally relaxing into his usual sarcasm. "Literal, my arse."
Harry laughed, the sound rich and warm.