Okay, everyone, this is it: the grand finale of Three Worlds Collide. Once again, this story is all I own (or else Harry's life would have worked out very differently).
A short man with dark hair leaned over a work-table fiddling with several strange-looking tools and muttering to the device he was working on. "Come on, come on. Just a small tweak here, aaaaannnnd . . . Yes! Ha-ha!" The man grabbed a walkie-talkie. "Doc, it's ready!"
On the other end of the line, Helen Magnus, head of the Sanctuary Network answered him. "Well done, Henry. I'm sending John to you now. Please remember to grab a weapon."
"Got it, Doc," Henry Foss, go-to man for all things technical in the Old City Sanctuary, picked up the object he had been working on and grabbed a laser gun. Three seconds later, John Druitt materialized in front of him. Henry quickly waked around the workbench and over to him. Then, Druitt grabbed his shoulders, and the two men disappeared in a cloud of pink smoke.
There had been several times in his life when the Dark Lord Voldemort had been thoroughly displeased; some of them had occurred in the past seven years. The first was when that brat Potter had prevented him from acquiring the Philosopher's Stone and thus delayed his resurrection for three years. Another, ironically, had been the very night of his return; Potter had managed to escape his wrath and humiliated him in front of his servants. Added to that, he had learned that his "most trusted servant," Lucius Malfoy, had cost him a horcrux! A year later, Voldemort had tried to acquire the prophecy made about him and Potter. Instead, he had lost his best duelists!
The past two years, he reflected, sitting upon his throne in Riddle Manor, had been, amazingly, even worse than all of those incidents, individually or combined. Ever since his bid to acquire the prophecy failed, the Dark Lord's luck had gone from bad to worse. Werewolves abandoned Greyback's pack in droves; the goblins had frozen his Death Eaters' assets; the giants had chosen to remain neutral; and Dementors and Death Eaters were flat out disappearing!
Each of these incidents were annoying enough on their own, but each of them was happening in a very troubling manner. Voldemort had never felt the need to keep a close watch on the werewolves due to the fact that they had nowhere to go. The Ministry had practically handed them to him with its constant anti-werewolf laws. Occasionally, one werewolf might try to integrate into the mainstream magical community (Remus Lupin, for expample), but most never bothered. Greyback's pack was the only place where they were welcome, so few ever attempted to leave it.
Now, more than half the pack had simply up and left. More disturbingly, Voldemort had no idea where they had gone; the traitors had apparently disappeared off the face of the Earth. Greyback had sent spies to find out why this was so, and they had all come back with no clear answer. All they knew was that the werewolves were being offered sanctuary by an unknown benefactor.
The goblins were an even greater surprise. Voldemort had expected the goblins would initially remain neutral; they had never been as maltreated as the werewolves, but neither had they ever been totally accepted. So, they had simply sat back and waited for the two sides to begin making offers to the greedy little creatures. Voldemort had been confident that he could offer the beasts more than the Ministry was willing to or that Dumbledore's little bird club could.
Yet, the goblins had surprised him. After the disappearance of his so-called "best" Death Eaters, the goblins had frozen all of their assets and refused to do business with anyone unless the customer first exposed his or her left arm to show that it did not bear the Dark Mark. Adding to his fury, as soon as he had formulated a plan to use Malfoy's son to punish the fool for his failure, the boy and his mother had simply disappeared along with all of Malfoy Manor. The same thing had happened to all the families of incarcerated (or missing) Death Eaters. Clearly, their homes had been rendered unplottable, but that knowledge did him no good if he could not find the Secret Keeper or Keepers.
The giants were much the same. For centuries, they had been hunted and oppressed by wizards and had developed a deep antipathy towards them. Voldemort had exploited that resentment in the last war, utilizing their incredible strength to lay waste to both worlds without discrimination. This time, however, the giants were, for unknown reasons, refusing to get involved with either side. They even went so far as to threaten the Death Eaters he'd sent to try recruit them to his cause.
Which led to the last problem, some unknown force was ruthlessly and efficiently hunting down Death Eaters or attacking them during missions. Sometimes they left dead body or two, but most often whomever they targeted simply disappeared without a trace. This led Voldemort to believe that whoever (or whatever) was attacking his servants was also responsible for the fiasco in the Department of Mysteries.
The most troubling part was that he had no idea what sort of an enemy he was dealing with. It obviously was not the Ministry, which was still trying to deny that he had returned, but it was not Dumbledore's order either; Serverus insisted that they were as impotent as ever. Even more disconcerting were the stories the few Death Eaters who had escaped brought back to him: a fast and lethal shadow, a deadly assassin who appeared and disappeared in a puff of smoke, a creature like a man and troll half-breed with great strength and fury, and a small army with powers they had never seen before.
Most exasperating was that it was not only the Death Eaters who were dropping like flies. All of the Dementors were gone. Few wizards were strong enough to repel the foul and deadly creatures, which led many to believe that they simply couldn't be destroyed. The truth was that it was possible to kill them, but it was even more difficult than merely driving them off. Yet, there could be no denying that something had eliminated the entire Dementor population. If the Dark Lord Voldemort were capable of feeling fear, then this fact would chill him to his bones.
At any rate, things were becoming desperate. He'd called an emergency meeting that night to try and find a way of ending this mysterious threat.
That had been his first mistake.
Within minutes of the arrival of his servants, Voldemort sensed anti-Apparation and anti-portkey wards being erected, which were promptly followed by a small army laying siege to his stronghold. There was even a Disillutionment chrm cast to keep muggles out. Whoever had been picking off his Death Eaters had apparently come to finish things once and for all.
Silently cursing the arrogance which had kept him from putting proper defenses on the property, Voldemort ordered his servants to deal with the threat. This time the enemy lacked the element of surprise; surely that would be enough to ensure their victory.
That had been his second mistake.
Voldemort rose from his throne, his robes billowing around him like smoke. He could sense through the Dark Mark that his servants were being crushed by these invaders. That meant that, as much as he detested involving himself in actual combat, the Dark Lord would have to deal with these nuisances himself and then punish any still living Death Eaters when he was through.
That was his third mistake.
For the first time since the fall of Lord Voldemort, the Death Eaters were faced with the prospect that they were doomed. The Death Eaters were masters of Unforgivables, and most were competent duelists; that wasn't enough. Their enemies were unlike anything most of them had ever faced before. Most of the attackers used strange weapons that stunned them almost instantaneously, but others were even more bizarre. There was a man who seemed to be able to silently Apparate despite the wards and was literally cutting down Death Eaters right, left, and center. Other Death Eaters fell to a frightening monster with fangs and claws, and still others met their fates at the hands of a strange, ape-like man.
Many Death Eaters were overcome with panic at the sight of these strange adversaries, but some were more adaptable. Fenrir Grayback was one such Death Eater. The werewolf alpha was in his element: sneaking around in the chaos, seeking out his prey. His targets were any of the invaders who were alone and helpless, like the young man was looking at right now. Grayback slipped behind him and prepared to pounce . . . when the young man turned around and pointed his weapon at the werewolf.
Henry Foss gasped at what he saw. "You! Y-you're, you're Grayback. You're the guy who bit Remus."
Grayback smiled. "Ah, yes. That one. Looking back, it probably wasn't such a good idea to bite him. Very satisfying at the time, though."
Henry grimaced at the obvious pleasure the man took in his crime. Then, he recovered from his shock at seeing the infamous werewolf to realize something; the man's mouth and chin were bloody. "You, you bit someone tonight, man."
Grayback smiled. "Of course, it's what I do, you know."
"But, the full moon's not 'til the end of the month! You're not changing; you're just . . . you're just . . ."
Grayback through back his head and laughed. "I'm a werewolf, boy! I'm a predator, a killer. It doesn't matter whether I'm in my human skin or my wolf skin. There's nothing else I can be and nothing else I want to be!"
Henry could only stare at the perverse creature before him. This guy made Druitt and Tesla seem like a pair of boy scouts! His disgust was so great that, so his own surprise, Henry felt his horror become replaced by a more powerful emotion: rage. He dropped his weapon beside his feet.
"Giving up?" Grayback asked.
"No," Henry answered, "doing something I thought I'd never do. Rooooooaaaaaarrrrr!"
Grayback ferocious leader of the werewolves, a man whose very name caused others to tremble, stepped back in fear. His eyes widened at what he saw before him; the unassuming young man was undergoing a startling transformation. The instant he roared, the man's eyes glowed bright yellow, while his ears became pointed and his canines lengthened. He grew taller and gained more muscles mass, tearing apart his clothes. Most disturbing, however, was the brown hair that covered his body and way his jaws elongated, becoming a snout. If Grayback didn't know better, he'd swear he was looking some kind of werewolf, only a werewolf more terrifying than any known to wizard-kind.
He had little time to marvel at the man's metamorphosis, however, before the enraged lycan pounced on him.
Harry's curse sent another Death Eater flying. He allowed himself a small grin; they were plowing through the bad guys like a hot knife through butter. Still, it was only a matter of time until Voldemort himself got involved, and then, things would get a lot more complicated.
The young man turned at the sound of his name. "Grandma!" he answered, seeing the figure running toward him.
"Is it ready?" he asked.
"Henry just finished it," she answered, handing Harry the device. "I have the feeling that it's going to come in handy soon."
Just then, an explosion erupted a hundred yards from them. A tall, pale man stood there, his black robes billowing about him. Even from this distance, his power and his hate were palpable. Lord Voldemort had entered the fray.
"I guess it'll come in handy now," Harry laconically noted. Slipping the device into his pocket, Harry donned his Invisibility Cloak and disappeared.
Voldemort strode across the battleground, looking for an enemy to kill or an underling to vent his wrath upon. Nearby Death Eaters cheered and bowed to the Dark Lord, believing their victory was now assured. No one could stand against Lord Voldemort, no one.
So, it must have come as a surprise when Voldemort was blindsided by a spell from an unseen attacker. The Dark Lord, however, quickly recovered and launched a curse at the spot where the attack originated. Harry, however, had already moved by then and the spell actually hit a Death Eater, shattering the bones in his right leg.
Harry then dropped his cloak and began his attack in earnest-he was certain Voldemort could see through it anyway, and it was difficult to fight and maneuver while wearing it. The young wizard fired off a series of hexes which Voldemort easily countered.
"Come, Potter, surely you can do better than this. Pathetic after such a well executed ambush.
Harry didn't bother to answer; banter was for idiots. Besides which, the purpose of this little exercise wasn't to defeat Voldemort, it was to keep ahold of his attention, and, at this, Harry succeeded magnificently. Voldemort was becoming more and more focused on Harry and was ignoring everything around him more and more. And why shouldn't he have? Before him stood the boy who had caused him so much trouble over the years; the only one (so he believed) who could possibly defeat him. All he needed was to find an opening in Potter's volley of spells and he would make an end of him.
It shouldn't be surprising, therefore that he didn't notice Druitt teleport behind him and attach something to his back before teleporting away again. Harry, however, did notice and put the final stage of the plan into motion. Drawing a laser from within his robes, Harry replaced his hex barrage with a laser barrage and used his wand to summon his cloak to him, which, coincidently, lay not five feet from where he manipulated Voldemort into standing.
Voldemort might have been caught off guard by Harry's new choice of weapon, but he adapted instantly. Since they weren't magical, the beams were a little trickier to block than the spells had been, but not impossibly so for a wizard of his caliber. The Dark Lord was, however, totally unprepared for what happened next. As soon as the boy summoned his cloak back to himself, a bald man in black coat materialized behind him in a cloud of pink smoke. Recovering quickly, he sent a Killing curse at the pair, but it was too late; the man had already embraced Harry and disappeared. Voldemort was still wondering what was going on when the bomb Druitt had planted on him went off.
After Voldemort's "death," it hadn't taken much effort to either capture the remaining Death Eaters or send them packing. Harry stood idly in the spot where Voldemort had met his downfall. In the young wizard's hand, he jiggled a small object, a bronze-colored sphere with small crystals imbedded all over it. It was a soul-catcher, a bit of Praxian technology specially modified by Henry, and it now held Voldemort's soul sealed within. Harry had dropped along with his cloak when he began his duel with the Dark Lord. When Harry summoned the cloak back to himself, the soul-catcher had remained behind and had captured voldemort's essence after the Dark Lord's physical body had been destroyed.
"Not satisfied with how things worked out?" a voice called from behind him. Harry turned around to see Magnus walking over to him, covered with dirt and barring a few scratches.
"No, I just . . . can't believe it's over," he replied.
"It isn't," his grandmother told him. "This was just the beginning; there's still Voldemort's horcruxes to deal with, and trying to undo the mess the purebloods have made of the Ministry may take the rest of your natural life." It was unkown at this point if Harry had inheirted her longevity.
Harry sighed. "I know, but . . ." Leaving the sentence unfinished, he looked down at the object in his hand. This time, Voldemort wouldn't be coming back so easily; they'd made sure of it.
Magnus nodded. "But, it's a good start. Come on," she said, wrapping her arm around his shoulder, "let's go home.
Harry nodded to her, and slipped the soul-catcher into his pocket. Together, they silently turned and left the ruined battlefield.
Well, that's that. I hope the confrontation between Henry and Grayback turned out well. Personally, I always thought a meeting between the two of them would be more dramatic than one between Henry and Lupin. Sorry I never did anything with Christa from the last chapter, she was essentially a character whose signifigance died when I began trying to end this story which never really had much of a plot when I origionally concieved it.
Again, for those of you who wanted this story to go on longer, I'm sorry, but this is honestly farther than I thought I'd make. My challenge still stands: if you can come with a story about Harry Potter and Helen Magnus as family, please go for it. It doesn't have to be a grandmother/grandson story; it can be mother/son or a sister/brother or even lovers (although, if you go with sister/brother, you really should come up with a way to explain it, considering Magnus is 158 years old). Please send me a message if you choose to embark upon this quest, and good luck.