I Killed Them. I Killed Them All.


From the Books


The Death Eater Hermione had just struck dumb made a sudden slashing movement with his wand from which flew a streak of what looked like purple flame. It passed right across Hermione's chest; she gave a tiny "oh!" as though of surprise and then crumpled onto the floor where she lay motionless.

"HERMIONE!"

Harry fell to his knees beside her as Neville crawled rapidly toward her from under the desk, his wand held up in front of him. The Death Eater kicked out hard at Neville's head as he emerged — his foot broke Neville's wand in two and connected with his face — Neville gave a howl of pain and recoiled, clutching his mouth and nose. Harry twisted around, his own wand held high, and saw that the Death Eater had ripped off his mask and was pointing his wand directly at Harry, who recognized the long, pale, twisted face from the Daily Prophet: Antonin Dolohov, the wizard who had murdered the Prewetts. Dolohov grinned. With his free hand, he pointed from the prophecy still clutched in Harry's hand, to himself, then at Hermione.

Though he could no longer speak his meaning could not have been clearer: Give me the prophecy, or you get the same as her. . . .

"Like you won't kill us all the moment I hand it over anyway!" said Harry. A whine of panic inside his head was preventing him thinking properly. He had one hand on Hermione's shoulder, which was still warm, yet did not dare look at her properly. Don't let her be dead, don't let her be dead, it's my fault if she's dead. . . .


End of Matter From the Books


Hermione's breaths could not be discerned. And in that moment, Harry realised something. He had come to save Sirius. And now he was losing the two people who anchored him to the living. He could not lose Sirius. He most certainly could not lose Hermione. In that moment, he realised that she meant something transcending any definition he could give. She was everything. Life without her in it was unimaginable, unwanted. The realisation changed something inside him. She was not just Hermione Jane Granger, bushy-haired bookworm, best female friend and confidant.

She held his heart. He faintly remembered having heard, "Home is where the heart is." She held his heart. She was home.

It also caused an unprecedented effect. It awoke the Power in Harry that his foe knew not.

"Just hold on Hermione. Whatever you choose to do, it will be fine by me. Here or in the Great Beyond, I shall not leave you." His voice was calm and measured. His face was set with a calm smile. "Take care of her, Nev."

Never in his life had Neville known fear as he did when he looked at Harry's eyes as he said those words, and then wonder at the carnage that once was Antonin Dolohov. Harry simply stood and pointed his wand at Dolohov. His magic now responding to the chaos and havoc in his very soul, channelled a spell of such hatred that made the Unforgivables pale in comparison. He first freed Dolohov from the Bell Jar and then cast the curse at him, siphoning off his magic into Hermione. His magic responded to his very need for Dolohov to pay for what he did to Hermione. It was near-miraculous, had the explanation not been magic. In front of his eyes, Neville saw Hermione's injury being healed and watched in awe, as Dolohov was reduced to a bloody gloop, the murderer's magic compensating for what it did to Hermione.

The girl in question nearly vomited as she saw what lay in front of her. She flinched a bit, as Harry strode away to the battle.

"Herbiody!" called Neville. She turned around to her friend and saw his broken nose, deftly healing it.

"What is happening, Neville?" she asked.

"Harry – he has gone mental. When Dolohov nearly killed you, Harry – I don't know, he changed. He just swore to be with you, wherever you chose to be – in life or death, and then he did whatever he did to that scum and used his magic to heal you."

Hermione's eyes widened at the revelation. "We must help him, he will get killed!" was all she said as she rushed after Harry, Neville following in her wake.

"No," responded Neville, "He will probably want to get killed if he doesn't have confirmation that you are alive."

He was in the hallway that led to the room they had just been in. It was obvious that he had not bothered with duelling them. The masks were off of the three Lestranges faces.

"Oooh lookie here," taunted Harry. "Isn't it so cute that you three found time for a nice little family reunion here, Bella?" He spied Neville. Nodding at him, he said, "This is for your parents, Nev." Seeing Hermione beside him, his smile widened. "Oh, so it did work, then. You are the proud owner of Dolohov's magic too, my dear lady." Pointing his wand at Luna, Ron and Ginny who lay stunned and in relative safety, he ordered, "Take care of them, will you? They were badly injured and in danger. I stunned them and Ron is also under stasis... couldn't heal them." Neville and Hermione could only nod and watch in morbid fascination as Harry turned on the Lestranges and spoke in a very silky yet seemingly non-threatening way. "Now, now, don't you think it will be a better use of your magic if it was used to heal those you hurt? I think it will be. What do you say? Oh, how silly of me, I silenced you, didn't I? Well I'll take your silence for a 'yes', then." He removed the silencing charms, first. He wanted to hear them scream.

The same magic now worked on the three Lestranges. As their unearthly screams filled the halls and rooms, all the duellers stopped to look as Harry once again siphoned off their magic and commanded it to heal those that it had hurt but not killed.

Crabbe, Mulciber, Nott, Malfoy, Jugson, McNair, Rookwood and Gibbon watched in terror at the... whatever it was that their fallen comrades had now become.

"Ah, Lucius, how kind it is of you to join us. Please, sit down." Lucius could barely react before he realised that it was what he was doing. He had nothing below the waist in terms of a body. That was his last coherent thought, as he heard Potter say, "How does it feel knowing that your darling families will now pay for what you did to others'?" He couldn't even scream as the magic left him. He had gone into shock, long before he died.

As one, all the other seven engaged Harry, but the assault did not last for longer than about a spell each, for Sirius, Remus, Kingsley, Tonks and Moody chose the moment to make their appearance. Sirius stunned Jugson from behind, just as Moody blasted Rookwood open, eliciting a smile from Harry, who had just dodged or blocked several dark curses including the Unforgivables. Taking advantage of the situation, he stunned everyone, friend and foe alike. He then revived the OotP members, and bade them stand to the side with his friends. "Now, now, don't you think it was very rude of you to deprive me of the chance to do what I wanted to?" He looked at Sirius specifically, and said, "This used to be Cousin Bellatrix, Sirius. And Moody," he said gazing at the grizzled Auror, "You are standing in what used to be Lucius Malfoy."

Harry achieved something nobody barring a stomach bug (probably) had done before. Moody retched involuntarily.

"Now, you shall see vengeance and punishment." The six remaining living Death Eaters soon turned into the same bloody gloop.

Harry calmly made his way to the entry hall of the Ministry, the others following in his wake, too stunned to speak. "Here Tommy, Tommy, where are you? Where are you boy? Who wants the prophecy? Who's a good little Dark Lord?" The pain in his scar told him where Voldemort stood.

"You seem to have a Death Wish, Potter," the Dork Lard said snidely. The rescue party – both the one for Sirius, and the one from the Order – found themselves agreeing with the sentiment involuntarily.

"Oh yes! Did you see what happened to eleven of your minions? They are dead. Only Mad-Eye prevented me from a clean sweep."

If the snake faced dark lord had eyebrows, they would have risen off his scalp as he saw through the boy's feeble mental shields and realised the carnage he had wreaked. However grudgingly, even he had become impressed. "I promise you that I shall punish him for that transgression after I have dealt with you," he replied evenly.

"Not happening, old chap," Harry said as he raised his wand. "Shall we dance?"

"Of course," Voldemort replied formally and politely. Niceties had to be observed after all.

And so it went – the superior skill, spell-repertoire and trained power of the most feared Dark Lord of the Century pitted against his untrained yet extremely powerful and extremely pissed off nemesis. Voldemort, in accordance of the respect that needed to be accorded to respectable opponents, brought out his very darkest and fastest spells with a flourish. He decided not to insult the boy by using Unforgivables. They were too common, too run-of-the-mill. Harry, knowing that he had nothing to lose, felt his magic, and bade it do what he wanted it to. He couldn't get his magic to overpower Voldemort's, due to the strain on his own waning strength, but got it to hurt Voldemort as severely as possible. It was like watching a clash of Titans. Voldemort lost an eye, while Harry lost his left arm in what was beginning to become the duel everyone would remember. By this time, Fudge, his Aurors and the Chief of the DMLE, all had turned up, only to watch, as had Dumbledore. Unfazed, the two went at each other with all they had.

At the very end, Harry, realising that he would have to fight the battle in the thoughts and mind as well, dodged a curse which would have animated his brain and turned it into a small, carnivorous creature which would eat him from inside. What was the one thing that could cripple a person like nothing else? What could hurt a person more than Death, more than any physical injury? The answer was obvious – something that would be painful to the mind. Voldemort had to feel sorrow. Voldemort had to feel regret. Voldemort needed to be filled with remorse, with self-loathing and disgust at his own actions. That was exactly what he made his magic do. A great light shot from Harry's wand to Voldemort and engulfed him. The fear on the snake-faced Dark Lord's snaky face was there for all to see.

"What is this, Potter?" he asked shrilly. "What have you done to me?"

"You, Tom Riddle, will feel the pain and sorrow of every soul that you ever hurt. You will regret ever starting out on the path you have walked on thus far. You shall feel remorse over every single one of your actions." The manic smile on the boy's face never left. Of the people around, only Dumbledore recognised what was happening as his eyes widened in surprise, shock and disbelief.

Six streams of greenish-black smoke rushed from across the country into the Dark Lord, including one from his tormentor.

"NOOOOOOOO!" yelled Voldemort as he writhed on the ground. "NOOOO! STOP THIS, PLEASE, STOP IT! I CAN'T BEAR IT ANYMORE, PLEASE, I AM SORRY! I AM SORRY!" It was an odd sight for the people around, including the reporters who had arrived with the Ministry delegation. To see the person who was supposed to be dead grovelling at the feet of his teenaged opponent made a powerful picture. It would also sell well.

"PLEASE POTTER! STOP THIS! I BEG OF YOU, PLEASE!"

"No."

Harry raised his wand once more and did to the now fully mortal dark lord what he did to his minions. The feel of the magic swirling and building up, drawn from Voldemort and all his followers, raced to correct the wrongs it was never meant to cause overwhelmed the onlookers. And just like that, the most feared Dark Lord of the century was dead, once and for all, taking his minions with him.

Turning to Hermione, Harry said with a blank, but cracked expression, "I killed them. I killed them all. I hated them. Every single Death Eater. And their families too, for good measure. But do you know, Hermione, my dearest? It is never enough. And I have to punish them again. I have embraced truth. There is no light or dark; or good and evil. There only is human nature. There is crime and punishment. And I have to punish." Hermione looked at him with anguish and shock, as she saw him turn his wand.

And then, Harry Potter laughed.