Two weeks later, now heading into April, Harry found himself standing outside the Tonks' home, feeling both eager and hesitant. He had been visiting when he could, trying to see as much of Teddy as he could.
It was early in the afternoon, and knowing both Remus and Tonks were away on Order business, Harry took the opportunity to visit Teddy without them interrupting. It wasn't a planned visit but something in his wolfish instincts had been pulling him here for days.
Andromeda answered the door with a warm smile, her face lighting up when she saw him. "Harry," she greeted, teasing him softly. "What brings you to my humble home?"
Harry chuckled, stepping inside as she waved him through. "I wanted to see Teddy," he admitted, glancing around the cosy living room. "If that's alright."
"Of course," she said, her smile fond. "He's getting quite active—you've caught him at a good time. He's just woken from his nap."
The moment Teddy was placed in Harry's arms, his inner wolf stirred and howled with joy. The baby was a warm, wiggling bundle in his grasp, his tiny hands curling instinctively into Harry's robes.
"Hey, little cub," Harry murmured softly, the rumble in his chest low and comforting.
To his surprise, Teddy startled slightly, before his amber-coloured eyes flashed gold and a tiny, cub-like growl escaped his lips in return.
Harry's breath caught, a wave of warmth crashing through him. There's more wolf in you than I thought, little one. He wondered if Remus even realised how strong the werewolf's traits ran in his son—or if he would simply suppress them in fear.
Andromeda chuckled, observing the interaction with curious eyes. "He likes you," she said softly, watching as Teddy calmed completely in Harry's arms.
Harry's heart clenched. "I worry about how they'll treat him," he admitted quietly. "If he shows his wolfish traits."
Andromeda sighed, her warm expression slipping into a faint frown. "You're not wrong to worry," she admitted. "Remus… means well, but he's so scared of passing on his curse that he forgets Teddy is his own person. And Nymphadora—" She broke off, shaking her head in disappointment. "She barely notices him at all these days. Always rushing back to the Ministry or the Order. I thought… I thought motherhood would change her. But it hasn't." There was sorrow in her voice now, edged with frustration.
Harry said nothing for a moment, just watching the baby in his arms, feeling the steady pulse of Teddy's magic intertwine with his own. It was wild, untamed, like the wind through the forest and Harry couldn't help but feel fiercely protective of him.
"She planned to use him," Harry said quietly. "To make me name him the Black heir. Probably had thoughts of controlling his heirship if I died and until he came of age."
Andromeda's lips pressed into a thin line. "That would explain a lot," she said bitterly. "She was always ambitious. But I had hoped—" She shook her head again. "I'm not young enough for this, Harry," she admitted softly. "I love him with everything I have, but he's exhausting."
Harry looked down at Teddy, watching as the infant stared up at him with wide, curious eyes, eyes that flickered green for a fleeting second before returning to amber.
His magic hummed softly against Teddy's, and Harry found himself falling a little more in love with this innocent little boy.
"If you ever need help with him," Harry offered quietly, "let me know. I'll always make time for him."
Andromeda's face softened. "You're a natural," she whispered. "Sirius would be proud of you."
Harry swallowed thickly, brushing a gentle kiss over Teddy's soft curls. "I'll do right by him," he promised, even if its only for a year, he would make sure Teddy wants for nothing.
He updated his will with Grimbok later that day.
~
The morning of April 23rd dawned crisp and bright, sunlight spilling through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. It was a normal breakfast—or as normal as Hogwarts could be when you were counting down the days until you left your world behind. Harry was pushing scrambled eggs around his plate, half-listening to Theo and Blaise bicker over an essay while Neville murmured something about a rare hybrid plant he'd ordered for the Keep.
Luna, nestled comfortably by Harry's side, was humming softly while twirling her spoon, entirely unbothered by the noise of the Hall.
Harry, however, couldn't stop glancing at the Marauder's Map tucked discreetly in his lap. Draco Malfoy's dot hovered on the seventh floor, not moving. Again.
"He's stopped," Harry muttered under his breath, irritation prickling at his skin.
Theo snorted quietly. "He knows he's being followed. I'm telling you, his task—whatever it is—it's stalled. Either he's biding his time, or he's too scared to finish it."
"Can you blame him?" Blaise drawled, sipping his coffee. "Voldemort's not exactly forgiving."
Neville glanced over, lowering his teacup. "Do you think he'll crack?"
"Eventually," Harry said darkly. "But when, and how much damage he'll do before then… That's the problem."
Before anyone could respond, the doors to the Great Hall slammed open with a resounding bang, making several students shriek in surprise.
A group of stern-looking witches and wizards swept inside, their official purple robes of the Hogwarts Board of Governors marking them clearly. At their head was Amelia, her monocle gleaming as her sharp gaze swept over the Hall. Beside her was Augusta, her vulture hat tilted forward as if she meant business.
"Oh, Merlin," Neville muttered, sitting straighter. "What now?"
Harry stilled, barely breathing. His heart pounded as he took in the determined set of Amelia's shoulders and the almost smug glint in Augusta's eyes.
This was it.
The entire Hall fell into stunned silence as the governors marched toward the head table. Whispers rippled across the room like wildfire.
"What's going on?" Blaise murmured, though Harry could tell from the sharp glint in his eyes that he was starting to piece it together.
Dumbledore, who had been sitting serenely in his gilded chair, raised his eyebrows as if this were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
"Madame Bones," Dumbledore said smoothly, rising from his seat. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Harry felt a jolt of satisfaction when Amelia didn't so much as smile. Instead, she pulled a thick scroll from the folds of her robes, unfurling it with a snap.
"Albus Dumbledore," Amelia said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade, "The Hogwarts Board of Governors has convened, and by majority vote, you are hereby dismissed from your position as Headmaster, effective immediately."
The Hall exploded.
Cheers erupted from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables almost instantly—many students leaping to their feet to applaud. Slytherins smirked among themselves, clearly unbothered by the headmaster's fate. And the Gryffindors—well, half of them were cheering while the other half gawked in disbelief.
Harry felt a burst of pure, unadulterated joy rush through him. He couldn't stop the wide, gleeful smile that spread across his face.
"This has to be a dream," Theo said faintly, shaking his head. "Pinch me, Blaise. I can't believe it."
Blaise snickered, "I'd rather hex you, but sure."
Dumbledore's calm mask cracked just slightly as he narrowed his eyes at Amelia. "I must object to such a public display. This is highly irregular—"
"Actually," Augusta cut in coolly, "it is perfectly within our rights to dismiss a sitting headmaster under clause forty-seven of the Hogwarts Charter. 'Abuse of guardianship and exploitation of position for personal gain' is listed explicitly."
"You should be ashamed of yourself!" Amelia snapped, her voice growing cold. "Abusing your power to bind a child—your own ward at the time—to a marriage contract? Using your position to control the political sphere of the Wizengamot? How many other lives have you tampered with?"
Harry's chest heaved with quiet laughter as Amelia's gaze flicked to him for a moment, her expression all too pleased with her handiwork.
"I tried to protect Harry from those who would do him harm," Dumbledore said, his voice measured, though Harry could see the tremor of rage beneath it.
"You were the harm," Augusta snapped, leaning heavily on her cane. "And Hogwarts is better off without you."
More cheers and shouts of agreement filled the Hall. Even the portraits along the walls seemed to be watching with relish.
At the Gryffindor table, Ron and Hermione were pale-faced, Hermione looking like she might faint while Ron muttered furiously under his breath. Ginny, sitting next to them, was frozen in place—her face drained of all colour, as if her entire world was crumbling.
"This can't be happening," Harry heard her whisper, with his newly enhanced hearing. "He promised…"
Harry leaned back, savouring every moment. This—this—was the best day of his life.
Dumbledore's knuckles were white against the podium. "And who," he asked, his voice dangerously soft, "do you intend to install in my place?"
The Hall fell silent as Amelia stepped forward, a thin smile curling her lips. "Professor Flitwick will be serving as Interim Headmaster while we search for a permanent replacement, unless he changes his mind about not wanting the position. Until then Albus, your presence is no longer required."
"I will not stand for this," Dumbledore hissed, his composure snapping as his magic crackled dangerously around him.
"You don't have a choice," Amelia murmured, loud enough for her voice to carry across the hall.
Dumbledore's magic flared one last time, before, with a furious sweep of his robes, he turned and stormed out of the Great Hall, the heavy oak doors slamming shut behind him.
For a breathless moment, the silence held—and then the room erupted.
Harry laughed openly, his heart soaring as Blaise and Theo clapped him on the back.
"Happy days, Potter," Blaise drawled, shaking his head in admiration. "Happy days."
~
The soft clink of gold echoed through the dimly lit chamber. Piles of ledgers, enchanted quills scratching softly, and neatly stacked parchment surrounded the two figures seated across from one another. The heavy scent of ink and aged parchment filled the air as Harry leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose while Grimbok tallied the final numbers.
"For a young man, you are unnervingly organised," Grimbok said, his voice carrying the usual mix of gruffness and something far warmer when he spoke to Harry. His sharp, black eyes scanned the rows of figures with approval. "Your holdings are vast, and your foresight in preparing for your departure is commendable."
Harry exhaled softly. "It's not like I have a choice, Grimbok. We're running out of time, and I'd rather leave nothing to chance. If this works—if we manage to leave—I need to know that everything here is handled."
Grimbok grunted. "And you trust me to do it."
"There's no one else I would," Harry admitted, offering a tired smile.
For a moment, the goblin's expression softened—barely—but it was there. "Good. Because I don't intend to let you down."
Harry nodded, feeling the weight of those words settle in his chest. It was comforting, in a way. There were so few people he could trust without reservation—Grimbok was one of them.
"Alright," Harry said, pulling himself back to the present. "What's next?"
Grimbok shuffled a thick sheaf of parchment. "We've divided your accounts according to your instructions. I'll keep one million galleons each in the Black, Potter, and Peverell vaults to maintain your investments. The interest alone will sustain the accounts for generations."
"That should cover any potential emergencies," Harry agreed, watching as Grimbok's quill danced across the ledger. "And the Birch account?"
"I will maintain one million galleons there as well," Grimbok confirmed, his voice smooth. "Lady Luna and Heir Black will retain access should anything happen to you."
Harry's lips twitched. "Sirius would get a kick out of being called 'Heir Black.' He always said the title sounded stuffy."
Grimbok let out a dry, rumbling chuckle. "Perhaps, but I doubt anyone else would dare call him 'stuffy.'"
Harry chuckled softly, the sound fading as his mind drifted toward more serious matters. "Two vials of my blood are stored in the Birch vault—just in case Luna needs them for the blood adoption if anything happens. And you have access to the Peverell vault for the ritual Luna and Theo will need if anything happens to me."
Grimbok inclined his head. "A wise precaution."
"And Teddy?"
"I have established a private vault in his name," Grimbok confirmed, sliding a separate parchment across the table. "It will remain sealed until his seventeenth birthday unless you instruct otherwise, his grandmother will have access as well for essentials."
Harry's gaze softened at the thought of the tiny, bright-eyed child. "Good. Whatever happens, he'll never want for anything."
Grimbok hesitated for a breath before clearing his throat. "And the descendants of Marius Black?"
Harry's expression grew solemn. "I owe them that much. Leave 100,000 galleons in vaults for any of them who come to claim a connection, give them an inheritance test. I've already sent some muggle currency to the family I could trace. I don't know if they'll ever want anything to do with the magical world—but they deserve a choice."
"A generous decision," Grimbok murmured, nodding his approval. He adjusted his ledger again, adding the instruction in flowing script. "I will ensure the vaults are maintained and discreetly offered."
Harry tapped his fingers restlessly against the armrest of his chair. "And the ingots?"
"I will begin removing the enchantments on the remaining coins," Grimbok promised. "Gold is a universal currency, after all. You may find it useful in your new world." His mouth curved into something close to a smirk. "Some things never change—everyone loves gold."
Harry huffed a quiet laugh but didn't answer immediately. Instead, he dropped his gaze to the crystal pendant hanging against his chest. The weight of it felt heavier than usual—thirty-nine more to go.
The silence between them stretched until Grimbok finally asked the question hovering in the air.
"How are you?"
Harry's fingers curled tighter around the crystal. "I…don't know."
A part of him wanted to lie—to say he was fine, that this was just one more thing on a long list of burdens. But Grimbok had been with him through every dark moment. He deserved the truth.
"It feels like…I'm running out of time," Harry admitted, his voice quiet. "The end's coming—I can feel it. Every move we make, every day that passes… It's like the world is closing in."
Grimbok was silent for a long time, the only sound the scratch of his quill as he finished the last line in the ledger. Then, he set the parchment aside and met Harry's gaze with unyielding intensity.
"You are one of the best men I've ever known, Harrison," he said quietly. "And I have known many across the decades. You sacrifice more than anyone has the right to ask of you—and I suspect you would give even your life without hesitation if it meant saving those you love."
Harry laughed bitterly. "It always seemed like I had an impossible choice to make: To live or die."
Grimbok slammed his hand against the table, making the quills rattle and Harry jump slightly. The goblin growled, his voice fierce. "There is only one right choice."
Harry blinked, momentarily stunned by the force behind his words. Something warm and steady settled in his chest, easing the ache that had been lodged there for so long. A slow, genuine smile curved his lips.
"I'll try," he said softly. "I'm not planning to go down easy. Not until we've finished this."
Grimbok gave a sharp nod of satisfaction. "Good. When we've removed the Horcrux—when the bastard is nothing but ash—you'll have more to fight for. Your life is your own, Harry. Don't forget that."
Harry exhaled, some of the weight lifting from his shoulders. "Thanks, Grimbok. For everything."
"You've already paid me more gold than my family will ever need," Grimbok snorted, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed his affection. "But you—you are more valuable than any treasure. Don't forget that."
Harry stood, stretching his tense muscles. "Let's finish this," he said, his voice steady. "One piece at a time. And when it's over…we'll burn down everything that tries to stop us."
Grimbok's fanged smile widened. "Now, that is a plan I can get behind."
~
The Room of Requirement felt colder than usual. Shadows clung to the towering piles of broken furniture, discarded artifacts, and forgotten secrets as Harry and his friends quietly wove through the maze of debris. The air smelled faintly of dust and aged magic, thick and heavy with memories long left behind.
"This is the room Draco keeps sneaking into?" Blaise asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he nudged an old, tarnished cabinet with his boot. "I expected something… I don't know, more sinister."
"We all did," Theo muttered, scanning the cluttered expanse with narrowed eyes. "If this is where he's doing the Dark Lord's work, then he's either playing a very long game, or he's hiding something cleverer than we thought."
Harry wasn't so sure. The Room of Lost Things stretched on endlessly in every direction, an overwhelming jumble of centuries' worth of abandoned items. It felt impossible—like finding a needle in a cursed, magical haystack.
"We've searched for hours," Neville said with a sigh, leaning against a dusty wardrobe. "Nothing. Not so much as a Death Eater manual or a secret Malfoy family heirloom."
Harry grimaced, tightening his grip on the crystal around his neck. We're running out of time. He knew it—he felt it in his bones.
"We keep watching him," Harry said firmly. "Whatever he's doing, it's important—and he's scared. We'll find out soon enough. I doubt he's been tasked with retrieving the diadem that was kept here."
The others nodded, but the tension hung thick in the air as they slipped back out of the room and returned to their surveillance.
The following weeks passed in a blur. Without Dumbledore, Hogwarts felt brighter as if a great weight had been lifted from its ancient walls. The students, though still aware of the war beyond the castle grounds, seemed happier. Harry found himself spending more time with the younger children, helping where he could. He was especially protective of a quiet Slytherin first-year named Evan who had been bullied relentlessly.
"Never let anyone push you down," Harry had told him one evening after helping the boy perfect a shielding charm. "You're stronger than they know. Make them remember it."
The gratitude in Evan's tear-bright eyes had been worth it. It was the little things—the people he could save now—that kept Harry grounded.
But the happiness couldn't last. It never did.
It started during another of Luna's visions.
They had just finished a study session. Harry leaned back in his chair, trying to focus on Grimbok's latest report but feeling the familiar weight of exhaustion settling in his bones. Twenty-seven more, he thought grimly. Only twenty-seven more.
Blaise and Theo were discussing Draco's increasingly erratic behaviour while Neville quietly labelled some dried herbs, their soft chatter filling the space.
Luna gasped suddenly, her body going rigid as her eyes glazed over, her hands trembling where they rested on the table.
"Luna?" Harry called, instantly alert.
Her head snapped up and the look in her eyes made his blood turn to ice.
She didn't see them.
"No," she whispered, backing away from the table. "Stay away. Stay away from him!"
"Luna, it's us," Neville tried, stepping forward cautiously.
"Grab my hand—please, just a little more!" she cried out, her voice breaking with desperation. Her hands flailed as though reaching for someone unseen. "Don't let go—please, Harry, you promised!"
Harry's heart stuttered in his chest. "Luna—Luna, it's me," he said softly, his magic curling at the edges of the room in panic.
But she didn't hear him. She couldn't.
"Not like this!" Her voice cracked on a sob as silver light surged around her hands, sparking with raw, uncontrolled power. "I didn't see this—please! Not like this!"
She lunged and sent a blast of magic that shattered a nearby bookshelf. Harry barely had time to raise a shield before her next curse struck.
"Bloody hell—" Theo swore, ducking behind the table.
"Don't hurt her!" Harry barked, weaving between her wild attacks as he tried to reach her. His heart thundered in his chest—Luna was always so calm, so gentle, and now… now she was breaking before his eyes.
"Harry, she doesn't know who we are!" Blaise warned, raising a defensive ward as Luna's magic flared again.
Harry clenched his jaw. "I know—but I've got her."
He darted forward, using his elemental magic to soften her blasts, weaving the air around her like a cocoon. "I've got you, Luna," he whispered, voice low and sure as he closed the distance between them.
With one final burst of power, he caught her.
He wrapped his arms around her trembling frame, holding her tight against his chest as her sobs wracked through her. "It's me," he murmured. "I'm here, Luna. I've got you."
Her magic fizzled out as she collapsed into his embrace.
"Tilly!" Harry called, his voice sharp with urgency. "Bring Tazgira. Now."
A loud pop echoed through the chamber as Tilly vanished.
Minutes stretched unbearably before Tazgira appeared, her face grave as she took in the scene before her. She knelt beside Luna, hands glowing with a soft, golden light as she scanned the fragile girl's trembling form.
Harry held his breath.
When Tazgira spoke, her voice was low and full of sorrow. "Her mind is fracturing under the weight of her visions," she said quietly. "The only way to help her now is to remove some of them or she will shatter completely."
The words hit Harry like a physical blow. "No," he said fiercely. "There has to be another way. You said it was too dangerous to remove her memories and that it could only be done once."
"I'm sorry," Tazgira murmured, her tone heavy. "If she has another episode like this, so soon, her mind will fracture beyond repair."
Luna, still weak and trembling in his arms, lifted tear-filled eyes to his. "I… I don't want to forget who I am. Who you are," she whispered, her voice broken.
Harry's throat tightened painfully as he brushed a tear from her cheek. "I know," he said hoarsely. "I know, Luna. I'll only take the visions, okay?"
Theo shifted awkwardly. "Her visions… they sounded important. Maybe you should—"
"No." Harry's voice cracked like a whip. "I won't search her memories for information, it's too dangerous. Not like this."
Luna shuddered in his arms, her hands clutching his robes as if he were her only anchor to reality. "Please," she whispered. "Please don't leave me."
"I'm not leaving," he promised, pressing his forehead to hers. "I'll make everything okay. I swear."
And then, as her tears stained his hands and his heart ached in ways he didn't know were possible, he whispered the spell that would take her visions, her knowledge away.
"Obliviate."
His magic sifted carefully through her mind—through all the jagged edges and the weight of her prophecies—and he took it away.
Her sobs quieted as the magic settled, her breathing growing softer against his chest.
Just before the memories faded, she whispered one last prophecy—soft and broken.
"He's coming tomorrow Harry. It's happening. As the sun sets and the stars come out," she murmured, "my star will lose its light…"
And then she forgot.
~
The castle halls, usually buzzing with the energy of approaching spring, felt heavier under the weight of what was coming.
Luna stirred, her lashes fluttering softly against her pale skin. She blinked up at him, confusion briefly clouding her silver-blue eyes.
"Harry?" Her voice was soft, lighter somehow, like a weight had been lifted. And maybe it had.
Harry's heart twisted painfully. She didn't remember, not everything.
"Hey, Moonbeam," he whispered, brushing a strand of her platinum hair from her face. "How are you feeling?"
Luna hummed softly, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Better… lighter, I think. It doesn't feel so loud anymore." She tilted her head, something flickering behind her gaze. "Did you… do something?"
Harry swallowed against the ache in his throat. "I just helped you rest. You were tired," he said, his voice tight but warm. "You'll feel better now."
"I do," she admitted, stretching her fingers idly before settling her hand atop his. "You're always looking after me."
"That's what family does." His thumb traced the back of her hand gently.
Luna's smile faltered slightly. "Harry?" she asked, curious. "Who's Teddy? You mentioned him earlier."
Harry froze.
She doesn't remember him.
He forced his voice to stay steady. "He's… someone very special to me," he said softly. "You'll meet him one day, I promise."
She tilted her head, frowning faintly, but didn't press. A moment later, she blinked and asked quietly, "Where's Petar?"
Theo, who had been leaning against the wall with arms crossed, stiffened visibly. His jaw clenched, and he shifted his gaze to the floor.
Harry's heart broke a little more.
"He had to go back home," Harry answered carefully, his voice gentle, but Luna's face remained curious and open.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, though she didn't seem to fully understand why.
Harry smiled sadly, brushing a kiss against her forehead. "You should rest, Luna. We'll talk more when you wake up."
Luna nodded sleepily, her eyes slipping shut as Harry began to hum the Greek lullaby her mother used to sing. He felt her breathing even out, her magic settling as she drifted back into peaceful slumber.
As the last note faded, he turned back to the others.
"I'm going to see Amelia."
Theo pushed off the wall, his arms still folded. "We already know what she'll say, nothing will stop him from coming."
"We have to try," Harry replied firmly.
The Ministry Atrium was quiet at this hour, the cool marble gleaming under the dim torchlight. Harry apparated directly into the shadows beneath the golden statue and pulled his veil over himself, the magic curling protectively around his form.
Silent as a shadow, he moved through the corridors and up to Amelia's office. She still used her Head Auror chambers despite being Acting Minister, preferring the familiarity and security it provided.
Harry slipped through the door and dropped the veil, only to immediately twist out of the way as a bright Stupefy shot past his head.
"Merlin's beard, Amelia!" he hissed, deflecting the next curse with a flick of his hand. "It's me."
Amelia, ever the Auror, lowered her wand but didn't relax entirely. "You know better than to sneak up on me, Harry."
He chuckled softly, moving further into the office. "Force of habit."
Her sharp eyes swept over him, instantly noting the tension in his posture. "What brings you here at this hour?"
Harry's playful demeanour faded. "It's happening tomorrow," he said quietly. "Voldemort is coming to take Hogwarts."
The air grew thick with silence.
Amelia sank slowly into her chair. "How do you know?" Her voice was low, serious.
Harry hesitated. "I can't explain everything—but I saw it." He tapped his temple meaningfully. "Through my scar." There's no way he was telling her about Luna, friend or not.
Understanding flickered across her face. She knew about the connection, even if they never spoke of it directly.
"Draco Malfoy," he added, leaning against the desk. "I'm almost certain his task has been to find a way to let them in. He's been working on it for months, and I don't think he's finished but I can't risk being wrong."
Amelia swore under her breath, fingers steepled under her chin. "They could use the old passageways. Pettigrew would've known them all."
"I'll collapse the Whomping Willow entrance myself," Harry promised.
Amelia nodded, already mentally organising defences. "We'll double the Aurors on the perimeter and in Hogsmeade. We won't be able to evacuate all the children without proper cause. Vision or not we can't explain it to anyone."
A ghost of a smile tugged at Harry's lips. "You're already planning how to capture him."
"I am," she admitted, eyes glittering with determination. "We'll need Voldemort alive, at least until your Horcrux is removed."
"I don't mind if you keep him locked up for a few years," Harry said dryly, making her laugh.
Amelia's expression softened slightly. "You've done enough, Harry. Don't shoulder all of this alone."
"I'm not alone," he said quietly, thinking of his friends. "But… thank you."
Later that night, Grimbok's stone-carved home was warm with candlelight as Harry accepted a cup of goblin tea, barely grimacing at the bitterness anymore.
Tazgira and her sons—Vrak and Morg—clamoured for his attention, the little goblins proudly showing off their new flying harnesses.
"You're not allowed on the dragons without those and only when the saddles are finished," Grimbok said sternly, shooting Harry a pointed look.
Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Got it, no free rides."
When the laughter faded, Harry's voice grew quiet. "It's tomorrow, Grimbok. It's happening."
The goblin's expression darkened. "We'll be ready."
"I'll restrain him as best I can," Harry promised, though his heart felt heavy. "But… Luna is running out of time, I will take out as many as I can to power the ritual."
Grimbok's hand closed over his, firm and strong. "Don't you dare die, Potter," he growled. "I refuse to deal with Black as head of your Houses when he wakes."
A genuine, bright laugh escaped Harry's lips.
Harry's last stop before going to the Cove, was Teddy.
He crept into Andromeda's house, casting a silencing spell around the nursery as he lifted the tiny, wriggling boy into his arms.
"Hey there, little wolf," Harry whispered, feeling something raw and fierce rise in his chest. He rumbled softly, a sound that came from deep inside.
Teddy's eyes flashed gold and the baby gave a happy, tiny growl in return.
Harry's heart swelled and his wolf came to the front. "My cub," he murmured, nuzzling the baby's head.
~
The cove was quiet beneath the star-flecked sky. The soft crashing of waves against the rocky shore echoed through the air, a steady rhythm that had always soothed Harry in ways nothing else could.
He sat cross-legged near Altair's cavern, absently stroking the warm, smooth surface of the Hebridean Black egg resting in the centre of the carefully built fire nest. It pulsed faintly beneath his palm, alive and strong.
He felt them before he saw them.
A low, inquisitive growl rumbled from the shadows, and Nox was the first to approach. Her dark scales gleamed like liquid night, shimmering beneath the moonlight as she padded over and bumped her head gently against his shoulder.
"Why does Mother feel… wrong?" she asked, her voice a low rumble in his mind. Her golden eyes glowed with quiet intensity. "Are you leaving us?"
Harry exhaled slowly, leaning into her warmth. "Not leaving," he promised softly. "But there's going to be a big fight tomorrow. I'll do everything I can to come back to you."
Her snout nudged against his neck, her rumble deeper this time—protective, possessive. "I will fight with you," she declared fiercely. "No one will harm my mother."
A chuckle escaped him despite the ache in his chest. "My little warrior," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her sleek scales. "But this isn't your fight, Nox. I need you here—protecting the nest."
She huffed, clearly displeased, but didn't argue.
A large shadow shifted from the mouth of the cavern, and Lyra glided toward him, her golden eyes narrowed in quiet scrutiny. She lowered herself gracefully, curling her long tail around them both.
"Why does this feel like goodbye?" she asked softly.
Harry swallowed against the lump rising in his throat. "It's not," he said, though the words felt too fragile in the cool night air. "I just… needed my daily dose of affection from my hatchlings." His smile was soft.
Lyra didn't seem convinced. She tilted her head, the sharp spines along her neck twitching. "Our bond is not easily fooled, little one," she murmured. "Your heart is heavy."
Before Harry could respond, he was ambushed by another wave of dragons.
Orion, Cassie, and Vega—Lyra's nearly-grown hatchlings.
"You will win, Grandmother!" Cassie declared proudly, puffing out her chest as she wrapped her tail around his body. "The bad wizard is no match for you!"
"He won't know what hit him!" Orion added, his wings flaring with a playful growl. "Mother is strong, and you are stronger! No puny two-leg could ever beat you."
Harry laughed, the sound echoing across the cove, filling the night with warmth. "You lot have too much faith in me," he teased.
"We know you will win," Vega said simply, her voice full of quiet certainty.
For a while, they simply existed together. No battle plans. No looming war. Just warmth and the soft hum of their bond echoing between them.
Eventually, Altair padded over, his eyes gleaming with quiet pride as he nudged the Hebridean egg closer to Harry. "It will hatch soon," he said, his voice laced with wonder. "I will teach them everything you have taught me."
Harry's heart softened as he reached up to stroke Altair's snout. "They'll be the luckiest hatchling in the world to have you," he said sincerely.
Altair's wings fluttered slightly in pleasure. "Will you help me?" he asked, his voice quieter, more hesitant. "With the hatchling?"
The sheer trust in his voice made Harry's throat tighten painfully. "Of course, Altair. I'll be here."
And he meant it.
He would come back. He had to.
By the time the sky began to lighten with the first hues of dawn, Harry was stretched out on the warm sands, his body curled protectively around Altair's egg while the others slept soundly nearby.
A soft snort broke the peaceful quiet.
"Fly with me," Nox whispered, her golden eyes gleaming in the rising light. "Please, Mother."
Harry smiled softly, stretching his stiff limbs as he rose to his feet. "Alright, my little warrior," he murmured. "Let's go."
With a gleeful growl, Nox unfurled her massive wings and leapt into the air, Harry lifting himself effortlessly onto her back.
They soared together, cutting through the pale lavender sky as the first rays of sunlight spilled across the horizon. For a while, Harry let everything fade away.
Right now, there was only the wind, the sea below, and the quiet strength of the creature he had raised from a hatchling.
~
The air inside Hogwarts was tense, thick with a kind of electric anticipation that made Harry's skin prickle. Every step he took through the stone corridors felt heavier, like the castle itself was holding its breath—waiting for the inevitable.
He strode toward Professor Flitwick's office, his mind already racing through battle plans, defences, and the sinking knowledge that by the time the sun set tonight, everything could change.
When he reached the door, he knocked briskly.
"Come in!" Flitwick's voice was quick, sharp with the same undercurrent of worry Harry felt.
Harry stepped inside, closing the door firmly behind him. Flitwick looked up from his cluttered desk, his usual twinkle replaced by something far more serious.
"Harry," the tiny professor greeted, setting down a quill. "Is something wrong?"
Harry didn't waste time. "I think Voldemort will attack the castle tonight," he said plainly, watching as Flitwick's face drained of colour. "I've already collapsed the tunnel under the Whomping Willow but there are more secret passageways available."
Flitwick's lips tightened. "Merlin… Are you certain?" His voice was soft but deadly serious.
"As certain as I can be," Harry said grimly. "I'm asking you to keep the students inside their common rooms. Strengthen the wards. Don't let anyone wander the castle."
Flitwick, to his credit, did not question him. Instead, the man's shoulders squared with a quiet resolve, his wand twitching slightly between his fingers. "I'll alert Madam Bones immediately," he said. "We'll need to plan for the worst."
"Good, she knows already and is going to send aurors later today," Harry said, relaxing slightly—at least someone was taking this seriously. "And if you need to alert the professors, I wouldn't warn Snape. I don't know who he's loyal to."
Flitwick's brow furrowed. "He's not in the castle," he admitted quietly, eyes flicking to the window as though he might catch a glimpse of the man. "I've checked. Wherever he is, it's with one master or the other."
Harry grimaced.
By the time dinner ended, the castle's wards hummed with renewed strength.
Harry could feel them pulsing like a living thing against his skin as Flitwick's magic reinforced every protective barrier Hogwarts had. It was comforting, but only slightly.
Neville had been spreading the word discreetly through the older students. Keep your wands close. Stay in your dormitories. Don't wander. A quiet warning, but an effective one. The air buzzed with nervous energy as students filed out of the Great Hall in tight clusters.
Theo leaned over toward Blaise and Harry, his face grim. "Draco's disappeared again," he murmured. "Went into the Room of Requirement—he's been smug all day."
Harry cursed under his breath. "Whatever he's doing in there must be the way they're getting into Hogwarts."
"We tried to stop him," Blaise added, his mouth twisted in frustration. "But the door vanished before we could get in. It's locked to us now."
Harry clenched his jaw. The Room of Requirement would hide whatever Draco was up to unless they caught him outside of it. "Keep an eye on the map," he ordered quietly. "If he reappears, he will do it with death eaters. We need to keep an eye on the entrance."
Luna, sitting beside Neville, narrowed her eyes at Harry. "You're leaving me behind."
Harry sighed. "I need you on the map, Luna. You're the only one who can track movements the best while the rest of us are fighting."
"I can fight, too!" she snapped, her usual dreamy tone sharpening. "You've taught me everything you know—"
"You're my sister," Harry cut in softly, his voice thick with emotion. "I just… I need to know you're safe."
For a moment, silence stretched between them.
Finally, Luna exhaled softly and leaned back, her fingers twitching at her side. "Fine," she relented. "But I'll be with you when it counts."
Harry nodded, throat tight. "I wouldn't expect anything less."
~
The first explosion shook the castle just as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Harry's head snapped up, heart pounding in his chest.
A bright, silver hare streaked down the corridor toward him.
"No one's come out of the Room of Requirement," Luna's voice echoed through the air. "But they're here. Over forty Death Eaters, they're coming from the third floor."
"Shit," Harry hissed under his breath, and Amelia swore quietly beside him.
"We thought they'd break in from the outside," one of the Aurors muttered, eyes wide in panic.
Amelia didn't waste a second. "I'm calling reinforcements," she barked, sending her lynx Patronus out in a flash of silver. "We need every available wand."
Harry nodded sharply, turning to his friends. "Neville, make sure Luna stays in the chamber and start moving students there. Keep the younger years safe."
Neville hesitated but then he nodded. "I've got this," he said firmly, before disappearing down the corridor.
Theo and Blaise hovered at his side, tense and ready. "We'll cover the Slytherin dorms," Theo promised. "Get the first through fitfh years out."
Theo grabbed Harry's wrist briefly. "Be careful."
"You too," Harry murmured.
The fight found them faster than he expected.
Nine Death Eaters emerged from the shadows, spells flying fast and merciless.
Harry's hand flashed, an Incendio roaring down the corridor and forcing two masked figures back. Amelia cut through their ranks like a blade, her stunning spells sharp and unyielding.
He recognized Yaxley, his sneer still plastered on his face, and the Carrow twins.
A curse sliced toward him, "Diffindo!" Harry ducked, feeling the warmth of blood well where it barely grazed his shoulder. His magic roared in response. With a flick of his wrist, an invisible wall of air slammed into two Death Eaters, sending them crashing into the stone wall.
A flash of green. A Killing Curse.
Harry dropped to the floor, rolling out of the way and coming up with his dagger in hand. With a quick lunge, he drove the blade across Yaxley's throat.
He barely registered the sound of Amelia taking down another, her wand spinning in a deadly arc.
When the last Death Eater fell with a dull thud, Harry turned, panting hard, and grabbed the nearest one by the throat. His magic surged through his fingers as he used a wordless Ennervate to drag the man back to consciousness.
"How did you get in?" Harry growled, squeezing harder when the man's lips curled into a bloody smile.
"The Vanishing Cabinet," the Death Eater choked, laughing weakly. "Malfoy fixed it. He opened the way for us."
Harry's stomach sank. Draco had been their key all along, they were just too late.
But the Death Eater's next words chilled his blood.
"This…" He laughed brokenly. "…was just a distraction."
"What?" Harry demanded. "A distraction for what?"
BOOM.
The entire castle trembled beneath their feet.
Through the alcove window, he saw it, the shimmering ward surrounding Hogwarts shuddering as giants and trolls struck against it with brute force. Magic—dark and twisted—pounded against the shimmering shield.
Then, through the smoke and rising panic, he appeared.
Voldemort.
He lifted his wand and with a single, devastating strike, he shattered the wards.
The battle for Hogwarts had begun.
~
The air outside Hogwarts crackled with magic, thick and heavy with the promise of bloodshed. The shattered remains of the castle's wards still shimmered faintly in the air, flickering like dying embers, casting a ghostly glow over the grounds. Despite the destruction, Voldemort and his inner circle remained distant—watching. Waiting.
Harry stood at the broken window, his breath steady but his heart pounding in his chest. From this vantage point, he could see everything—the towering figures of the giants, the lumbering trolls, and a line of tense, grim-faced Aurors and professors standing as the last line of defence between Hogwarts and annihilation.
"This is going to get ugly," Amelia muttered behind him, already moving toward the door to rejoin her Aurors.
Harry shook his head. "No time to wait," he said, gripping the window ledge. "I'll meet you down there."
"Harry, wait—!" But before Amelia could stop him, Harry swung his legs over the edge and jumped.
Gasps of horror rang out behind him but he didn't fall. A cushion of air surged beneath his feet, softening his landing as he touched the ground with barely a whisper of sound.
The Aurors stationed in the courtyard turned, their expressions of disbelief clear through the flickering torchlight. Fear clung to them, palpable and heavy.
Harry strode forward, his voice calm but cutting through the noise like a blade. "This is Hogwarts," he said firmly. "You fight for every student behind these walls. For every innocent life. You fight because if we fail here, there won't be another chance."
The tremble of the earth beneath their feet grew stronger—the giants were coming.
Harry stepped ahead of the line, magic pulsing just beneath his skin, rising to the surface, eager and deadly. He drew in a deep breath, grounding himself in the earth beneath him, preparing to unleash everything he had.
Then an arrow whistled through the air.
It struck a troll squarely in the eye, the creature letting out a pained groan as it dropped to one knee. The Centaurs.
Harry turned his head toward the forest, nodding in acknowledgment as several centaurs emerged from the treeline, bows in hand, their expressions grim.
"Glad they're on our side," an Auror murmured beside him.
Harry didn't respond. He was already dropping to his knees, placing his hands against the cool, damp earth. He reached out with his magic—not to control, but to ask.
"Wake up," he commanded, his voice a low murmur only the forest itself could hear. "They're invading your home. Protect it."
At first, nothing happened.
And then—a deep groan echoed from within the Forbidden Forest.
The ground trembled beneath his fingers, and Harry felt the response—ancient, primal, and angry.
Roots, thick and gnarled, erupted from the ground, lashing out at the nearest giant. The massive creature stumbled, roaring in confusion as the roots tangled around its legs, dragging it down.
Branches twisted and sharpened into spears, piercing the limbs of another giant as the forest came alive. The Death Eaters paused in shock, staring at the animated woods with wide eyes.
A massive vine lashed out, wrapping itself around the neck of a third giant, twisting and tightening until there was a sickening crack. The body hit the ground with a thunderous crash.
"Merlin's beard…" someone whispered behind him.
Harry stood, breathless from the effort but steady. His magic hummed in his veins, wild and sharp. There was no turning back now.
The Aurors surged forward, emboldened by the sight, and the battle began in earnest.
Chaos consumed the battlefield.
At some point, Kingsley and the order arrived, though Harry couldn't see Dumbledore among them.
Harry moved like a shadow through the fray—fast, precise, unstoppable. With a twist of his wrist, a whip of fire lashed out, wrapping around a troll's thick leg. He pulled, the flame severing the limb cleanly.
A giant charged toward him, its massive club raised high. Harry didn't hesitate, he reached out to the earth beneath the creature's feet, shifting the ground just enough to send it toppling onto its back. A boulder-sized root impaled it seconds later.
"He's Merlin reborn," one of the Aurors whispered in awe as Harry tore through their enemies with terrifying ease.
The forest continued to fight alongside him, ripping through the Death Eaters' ranks. Trolls fell, dragged into the soil by grasping roots, while the giants fared no better against the relentless onslaught of the living woods.
Harry barely registered the blood staining his hands as he severed limbs with whips of fire, the air thick with the scent of scorched flesh. The world narrowed to the battle—the next spell, the next enemy.
And then he heard a scream.
"Fred!"
Harry's head snapped toward the sound, his eyes widening in horror. Fred Weasley stood trapped, disarmed, beneath a crumbling section of the castle wall.
A Death Eater's Bombarda struck the base of the structure and the wall began to collapse.
Harry didn't think. He slammed his foot to the ground, commanding the earth to move.
A cocoon of stone encased Fred in an instant, shielding him from the falling rubble just as the wall came crashing down.
"NO!" George's agonised shout pierced the air.
"Charlie!" Harry barked. "Fred's fine but he's trapped. Get to him, I'll cover you!"
Charlie didn't hesitate. He cut down the Death Eater closest to him and sprinted toward his brother, George hot on his heels.
As the Weasley brothers worked to free Fred, Harry turned his focus back to the battle, just in time to dodge a curse aimed at his back.
A Death Eater lunged but Charlie was faster. With a savage swing, he struck the man down, blood splattering across his dragonhide coat.
"You're a bloody menace," Charlie muttered, pulling Harry into a tight, bone-crushing hug. "Thank you for saving him."
Before Harry could respond, George—dishevelled and pale—joined them, his relief palpable as Fred stumbled free from the rubble.
"Fight now," Fred coughed weakly. "Flirt later."
Harry laughed breathlessly, clapping Charlie on the shoulder. "Agreed."
Harry barely had time to breathe between casting and countering, fire whipping from his hands, air bending to his will to shield fallen Aurors, the earth itself answering his call. But then he saw them.
A group of older students had spilled onto the grounds from the main entrance of the castle, robes billowing as they ran toward the chaos. Fifth years and up, their wands gripped tightly in shaking hands, faces pale but fierce. Among them, he spotted Blaise and Theo, side by side, moving with a fluid grace only years of training under Harry's watchful eye could grant.
"What the hell are you doing out here?" Harry yelled, slicing his palm through the air. A wall of fire erupted behind him, cutting off a cluster of Death Eaters attempting to flank the castle's defences.
Blaise shot a hex at a charging troll, his expression hard. "Fighting, obviously! You didn't think we'd let you have all the fun, did you?"
"We couldn't find all the Slytherins," Theo added, flicking his wand sharply and sending a spider twice his size hurtling backward. His lip curled with disgust. "We think they were warned. Someone told them to hide before this started."
Harry swore under his breath. "Stay close—if anything happens—"
"We've got it, Harry," Blaise cut him off, eyes sharp as he sent a well-placed Diffindo at a Death Eater's shoulder. The man collapsed with a scream. "You trained us for this."
That was the problem. He had. And he hated seeing them use it.
A flash of silver-blonde caught his eye, making his blood freeze. Luna.
"No!" His voice came out in a panicked roar as he saw her exit the castle doors, Neville following just behind her. "Luna—get back inside!"
She didn't even flinch. Her wand rose smoothly, blasting an Acromantula into a smoking pile of legs with a well-aimed Reducto. The energy that left her body was fierce, almost blinding in its intensity.
"I'm fighting for you too," she said softly, turning her wide, unyielding gaze on him. "You don't have to do this alone."
His heart twisted painfully. She was still too pale. Too fragile. His magic flared around him, desperate to shield her from the carnage. "Luna—"
"I'm not leaving you," she whispered, her voice gentle but unbreakable. "None of us are."
"I've got her, Harry," Neville cut in, stepping protectively closer to Luna. His face was grim, his knuckles white around his wand. "I'll keep her safe. I promise."
Harry swallowed hard, torn between dragging her back to safety and knowing there was no stopping her—not really. He met Neville's gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation, but found only fierce resolve.
Finally, he gave a sharp nod. "Stay together. Don't take any risks."
Neville smiled faintly. "Since when do we do things the easy way?"
Harry huffed a breath of laughter, his chest aching. These were his people. His family. And he would die before he let them fall.
"Let's move!" he barked, focusing back on the battle, but the knot of fear in his stomach remained—heavy and unrelenting.
Blaise and Theo moved like a pair of wolves, covering each other's blind spots with practiced ease. Blaise spun mid-step, sending a Blasting Curse into the side of a troll's head as Theo flicked his wand and summoned thorned vines from the ground to ensnare a Death Eater's legs.
Theo ducked, a Cruciatus Curse missing his ear by inches. "Why do they always aim for me?" he muttered, slashing his wand upward. A jet of green fire seared through the air, knocking their attacker flat.
"Must be your charming personality," Blaise shot back, his tone dry but his focus razor-sharp.
A flash of silver hair caught Theo's attention as he whipped around. Malfoy. He was lingering near the tree line, face pale, half-hidden behind a fallen stone pillar. Their eyes met across the chaos.
Theo growled low under his breath. "What are you playing at, Draco?"
"He's up to something," Blaise hissed, but there was no time to investigate.
A group of Death Eaters surged toward them—five, maybe six. Too many.
Blaise exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching. "I'll take the left. You get the right?"
Theo gave a wolfish grin. "Race you."
And then—they moved.
Harry barely had time to register the flashes of green and red as spells collided across the battlefield. His breath burned in his lungs as he sliced through a horde of spiders, turning them to ash with a swipe of his fire.
But his heart nearly stopped when he saw Luna stumble.
A Death Eater was closing in on her, wand raised with murderous intent.
"LUNA!" The sound tore from Harry's throat as he thrust a hand toward her.
A massive gust of wind howled across the battlefield, slamming into the Death Eater and sending him flying backward into the castle wall with a sickening crunch.
Luna blinked in surprise as Harry skidded to a stop beside her, breathless and wild-eyed.
"I said—stay safe," he rasped.
"I promised you," she said quietly, eyes full of resolve.
Harry's anger melted into something softer but he only nodded. "I know," he whispered, his voice rough. "I know."
They didn't have time for anything else.
The fighting raged on for what felt like hours.
The air was thick with the scent of blood and burnt flesh. The sound of spells crashing against shields echoed across the grounds. Harry didn't stop—couldn't stop.
But then—everything changed.
A bone-chilling voice rang out across the battlefield.
"Enough."
The Death Eaters froze in place, retreating in a coordinated sweep as Voldemort stepped forward. The very air around him seemed to tremble, oppressive with dark magic.
"You have one hour," Voldemort's voice echoed with cold malice, "to gather your dead and prepare your final defences. When I return, Hogwarts will fall and there will be no mercy."
~
The cries of the wounded and the mourning echoed through the Great Hall as Harry forced himself to keep moving. He couldn't stop. Not yet. Every body on the ground felt like a knife to his chest. Too many faces he knew. Too many he couldn't save.
Luna's hand on his wrist was the only thing grounding him. "We need to help the injured, Harry," she said softly, voice trembling but steady enough. "There's still time."
He swallowed thickly, tearing his gaze away from the retreating Death Eaters. He wanted to chase them down. To burn every last one of them. But she was right, the living needed him more.
"Okay," he murmured, dragging his eyes away from Voldemort's distant silhouette.
He stepped over broken stone and patches of blood-soaked grass as he made his way toward the fallen. The bodies seemed endless—Aurors, professors, and worst of all—students. Children. His stomach churned at the sight of Anthony Goldstein's familiar form lying crumpled on the ground.
Harry's breath caught as he knelt beside him, hands trembling as he brushed back the boy's blood-matted hair. He was too pale. Too still.
"Tony…" Harry whispered, the sound barely audible over the chaos around him.
"Harry!" A choked sob came from behind, and Harry turned to see Kevin, his face blotchy with tears. "He—he saved me. I wasn't fast enough. I wasn't—" His words broke apart into shattered cries as he sank to his knees beside his friend's lifeless body.
Harry's throat burned. He reached out, closing Tony's vacant, glassy eyes with a tenderness that felt like a betrayal. He shouldn't have been here.
"I'm sorry," Harry murmured, more to Anthony than anyone else. Then, he bowed his head, whispering softly, "May Hades guide you gently to the Elysian Fields, my friend."
He let the others gather Tony's body, forcing himself to move again.
Further down the battlefield, a shifting pile of rubble caught his eye, a hand barely visible beneath the debris. Harry rushed forward, and with a pulse of magic, he lifted the stone away to reveal Ted Tonks. His face was slack, chest still.
Harry's stomach sank.
He levitated the body carefully, a lump rising in his throat as he brought him back to the Great Hall. Another loss. Another family broken.
He spotted Remus near the entrance, alive and jogged toward him. "Remus!" he called, voice heavy with grief.
Remus turned, relief flashing briefly across his face before it fell at the sight of Ted's still form.
"No…" The word came out broken. Small. He took a shaky step forward, reaching out with trembling hands. "No—no, no. He can't—"
Harry softened his voice, hating himself for what he had to say. "He didn't make it."
Remus staggered, one hand covering his mouth as tears welled in his eyes. "I—I'll… I'll get Tonks. She—she needs to know."
Harry watched helplessly as Remus vanished through the hall's side door.
He leaned against the stone wall, feeling the ache of exhaustion in every muscle, but he couldn't stop. Not when there were still people who needed him.
"Harry." Amelia's voice pulled him from his thoughts. She approached, holding her side where a nasty gash seeped blood through her robes.
"Sit down. Let me heal that," Harry said, pulling her gently toward one of the benches.
Amelia snorted weakly as she sat. "Never thought I'd see the day where the Boy-Who-Lived became Merlin reborn," she said, trying for humour despite the weariness in her face.
Harry shook his head, casting a diagnostic charm. "I'm a poor imitation, trust me."
"You're doing more than anyone else has," Amelia said softly. "You saved us tonight."
Before Harry could answer, a loud POP reverberated through the air.
Then another. And another—until a chorus of dozens filled the room.
The hall quieted in confusion as the metallic clang of armour echoed through the space. The crowd parted, revealing a column of goblins, armoured in shimmering black steel, their sharp weapons gleaming. At their head stood Grimbok, his face grim beneath his polished helm.
Harry's breath caught as Grimbok strode forward, his sharp eyes locking onto Harry's.
When he stopped before him, Grimbok raised his fist to his chest in a warrior's salute. His voice rang loud and proud through the hall.
"The warriors of Clan Stonefoot stand with our ally, Lord Harrison Potter-Black. For all he has done for our clan, we will repay him tenfold in this battle today. We act not on behalf of the goblin nation, but on behalf of our honour and our debt to him."
Gasps rippled through the hall. Goblins did not fight for wizards. They were neutral, always. Yet here stood an entire clan, armed and ready.
Harry blinked, stunned. He felt a lump rise in his throat as he took a deep breath and slowly sank to one knee in front of Grimbok, placing his fist over his heart in return.
"I, Harrison James Potter-Black," he said, voice steady despite the tremble in his heart, "accept the warriors of Clan Stonefoot as my allies."
A beat of silence. Then he rose, stepping forward to clasp Grimbok's wrist tightly.
"Though," Harry added with a faint smile, "it would be better to fight alongside you as friends."
A roar of approval echoed through the Great Hall, the goblins slamming the butts of their spears against the stone in rhythmic applause.
Grimbok grinned fiercely. "Then as friends we shall fight."
Before anyone could speak again, Voldemort's voice whispered through the air, amplified by magic, crawling into every corner of the castle.
"I have been lenient today, allowing you all to fight as you have. You have all fought valiantly, but all in vain. While you defend yourselves, my loyal servant Draco has been completing his task. And while you bled for your school, he has been taking your innocent children—bringing them to me."
Gasps filled the air. No.
"I speak to you directly, Harry Potter. I know the power you hold—it is immense. Perhaps even equal to my own. So, I offer you a choice: bend the knee, and accept your fate—your death by my hand. Or refuse me, and watch your precious children slaughtered. You have twenty minutes to decide."
"Meet me in the courtyard when you decide your fate."
The hall exploded into shouts of denial and fear, but Harry stood frozen.
The weight of Voldemort's words crashed over him. The children.
Innocent children—his students—were in Voldemort's grasp.
He turned and walked out of the hall, ignoring the voices calling after him. His friends, Amelia, Grimbok, and the goblins followed him into the quiet corridor.
He paced, heart pounding in his chest, before slamming his fist into the stone wall. The impact cracked the surface—but the pain did nothing to drown out the guilt clawing at his insides.
Theo was the first to speak, his voice shaking. "You're not going out there. Right?"
Harry didn't answer.
"Harry!" Blaise snapped. "You can't—"
"I'm not worth more than those children," Harry whispered, his voice raw. "If he kills them because I don't—"
"You're worth everything!" Luna sobbed, tears streaming down her face.
Amelia met his gaze, fierce and unyielding. "There has to be another way," she said quietly. "And we'll find it."
Grimbok stepped forward, his face hard as iron. "You will not die tonight," he growled.
"How many first years were unaccounted for?" Harry's voice cut through the heavy silence, sharp and demanding. His hands curled into fists at his sides as he faced his friends, the weight of Voldemort's words pressing down on his chest like an iron chain.
Neville swallowed hard, his face pale under the flickering torchlight. "Seven," he answered hoarsely. "Seven first-years didn't make it to the chamber."
Seven children. Seven innocent lives.
Harry closed his eyes, the breath shuddering from his lungs. A sacrifice. That's what Voldemort wanted. That's what Voldemort had always wanted. And Harry knew—he knew—what he had to do.
It was never really a choice.
He turned toward Grimbok, his heart heavy with resolve. "You won't need to fight today," Harry said quietly, his voice steady despite the ache clawing its way through him. "If what Voldemort says is true, those children… their lives are at stake. And I can't—" He faltered for a moment, just a heartbeat, before forcing the words out. "I can't let them die."
Grimbok's face twisted with anger and grief, his sharp teeth bared. "You stupid, foolish, brave wizard," he growled. His voice shook slightly—just slightly—beneath the weight of his emotions. "What am I supposed to tell Tazgira? The boys? What do I say to them when you don't come back?"
Harry's smile was small and bittersweet. "Tell them… tell them about their father's reckless friend," he said softly, "who rode with dragons and died protecting his friends."
A choked sound escaped Grimbok's throat, but he said nothing, just clenched his fists at his sides, his whole body trembling with suppressed rage.
"No."
The word came from Luna—a broken, desperate cry—and before Harry could react, her small fists were hitting his chest, weak but wild with panic.
"No, Harry—NO! You can't do this," she sobbed, her voice rising into a near-hysterical wail. "It's not fair—it's not fair—I won't let you!"
Harry caught her wrists gently, stopping her frantic blows. His heart was breaking. "Luna," he whispered, tilting her face up to meet his eyes. Her tears fell like rain, shining in the dim corridor.
"I think…" His voice trembled, but he kept going, because he had to—because she deserved the truth. "I think I've always known it would end this way."
"No," Luna whimpered, shaking her head, but Harry held her steady, forcing her to listen.
"Since the day we found out about the Horcrux… about the ritual. It was always going to be me. I was in denial for a long time—because I wanted to believe we could find another way. But there was never another way," he admitted, his voice heavy with guilt.
"The ritual…" Harry swallowed against the pain in his throat. "The only way it works is with sacrifice. A life for a new life."
A stunned silence fell over them.
"You…" Neville's voice was barely above a whisper. "You knew this? The whole time?"
"I knew. And I would do it again," he said quietly, his gaze locked on Luna's. "A thousand times over, on any planet, in any life—I would do this for you."
Luna shook her head violently, tears streaming down her cheeks. "But—but you won't be there," she choked out. "You promised we'd go together—you promised! I can't do this without you!"
Harry's smile trembled as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently to hers. "Yes, you can," he whispered. "You're stronger than you know, Luna Lovegood. You'll make a new world shine brighter because you always have. And I'll be with you. Always."
She broke and hit his chest again. "Please," she begged. "Please, Harry. There has to be another way. Please."
"There isn't," Harry choked, brushing a tear from her cheek. "This is the only way. Get rid of the Horcrux. Save the children. Save you. What more could I ask for?"
Theo was trembling with rage, his face pale and blotchy with suppressed emotion. He lunged forward, grabbing Harry's arm in a bruising grip. "You can't ask us to watch you walk to your death!" he spat, voice thick with tears.
Harry turned his hand over and clasped Theo's wrist gently. "I'm not asking you," he said quietly. "This choice… it was never yours to make. It's mine."
He turned to the side and summoned a quiet whisper, "Tilly."
The elf popped into existence, eyes wide and fearful. "Master Harry," she squeaked, voice already trembling.
"Bring me the Sword of Gryffindor," he said softly.
Tilly froze, trembling. "Master Harry… why?"
"Please," Harry whispered.
A long moment passed before Tilly vanished and reappeared with the gleaming sword clutched in her hands.
Harry knelt before her, brushing a hand gently over her shoulder. "Thank you, Tilly," he said, his voice full of warmth and love. "You've been my friend—steadfast and true. Anyone would be proud to have you by their side."
Tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head. "Why is Master Harry saying goodbye?"
Harry only smiled softly and patted her head. "Because it's time," he murmured.
He stood and turned to Neville, placing the sword carefully in his hands. "The snake is here," he said firmly. "When the time is right, kill her."
Neville's hands trembled as he took the sword, his knuckles white. "You're coming back," he said fiercely, as though sheer force of will could make it true.
Harry didn't answer.
He turned next to Amelia. "You know what to do," he said quietly. "When I'm gone… when the snake is gone, Voldemort can die."
Amelia's face was pale, but she nodded. "It's been my honour, Lord Potter-Black," she said, voice tight with emotion.
Harry smiled at her and at Grimbok, who was muttering curses under his breath. "Take the crystal from my neck," Harry ordered quietly. "Keep it safe for Luna. For Theo."
Grimbok's shoulders shook with suppressed rage but he nodded once.
A strained laugh broke through the tension as Blaise wiped his eyes furiously. "We really had the best of times, didn't we?" he said hoarsely.
Harry chuckled—a broken, hollow sound. "Yeah," he whispered. "They were the best." His voice cracking at the end.
Without another word, he turned away.
"Harry, NO!" Luna screamed, trying to lunge after him. Neville caught her, holding her back as she thrashed in his grip.
Blaise struggled to restrain Theo, who was screaming Harry's name. "Don't do this—please! HARRY!"
Grimbok took a single step forward—but Harry raised a hand. "This is the only right choice," he said softly, and Grimbok froze recalling their moment where he said there was only one.
Without looking back, Harry walked toward the courtyard.
The courtyard was deathly silent as Harry stepped through the archway. The crisp night air bit at his skin, but he barely felt it. His pulse pounded in his ears, his magic thrumming beneath his skin. But there would be no fight again tonight.
Not for him.
The moon hung heavy and full overhead, casting pale light across the battlefield. The broken remains of the protective wards still shimmered faintly in the air, ghostly fragments of the shield that had once protected the castle. Now, that protection was gone.
His footsteps echoed against the stone as he crossed the open space. A final walk and with every step, the weight on his chest grew heavier.
Voldemort stood at the far edge of the courtyard, his thin, pale lips curling into a cruel smile. His red eyes gleamed with triumph as his Death Eaters formed a jagged semi-circle around him. At their centre, Harry saw them—the seven children.
Small, trembling figures bound in magical chains, their faces streaked with tears being held at wand point, the tips glowing green.
And there, in the middle, was Evan. The small Slytherin first-year who had always been too shy to meet Harry's eyes, until Harry had stood between him and his bullies. Now, Evan's wide, terrified gaze locked onto Harry's with desperate hope.
I'm sorry, Evan.
"Harry Potter…" Voldemort's voice was a silky purr, echoing in the stillness. "The Boy Who Lived—come to die at last. How predictable. How… fitting."
Bellatrix Lestrange laughed shrilly, the sound grating against Harry's ears. She held her wand against Evan's throat, her long, black nails digging into his shoulder. "He's come to play the hero," she crooned. "Isn't that sweet, my Lord?"
Harry forced himself to stay calm. He let his magic settle—let it rest. No fighting. No escape.
Tonight, there was only death.
He took another step closer and without a word let his wand slip from his fingers. It clattered to the ground. The sound seemed impossibly loud.
The Death Eaters jeered and laughed, their mockery ringing through the night. While the protectors of Hogwarts rushed to witness everything, and gasped at what they saw, shouting denials.
"How noble," Voldemort sneered, stepping forward. "But surely, Harry, you don't expect me to take you at your word. If you wish to save these children… then bind yourself. Stand before me and swear your magic—swear your very life—to your death by my hand."
Harry lifted his head, meeting Voldemort's gaze without flinching. His heart thundered in his chest—but his voice was steady as he spoke.
"I, Harrison James Potter-Black, Lord to the Ancient and Noble Houses of Potter, Black, Peverell, and Slytherin, do hereby swear to stand before the self-proclaimed Dark Lord Voldemort and willingly accept my death," he said, his magic vibrating through the air. "I do this willingly—for the lives and safety of the innocent and the just. So mote it be."
The magic in his oath rang out, shimmering golden threads weaving around his body. There was no going back now.
From behind him, faintly, Harry could hear Luna screaming. Her voice was raw—broken—and it shattered something deep within him.
But he couldn't stop.
He twisted the ring on his finger, feeling the cold, smooth stone against his skin, the Resurrection Stone. As he turned it, the air shimmered faintly beside him.
His mother was the first to appear. Lily Potter. She smiled at him softly, her expression filled with pride and sorrow.
His father stood beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder—James Potter, grinning through the ache in his eyes.
"I'm so proud of you, Harry," Lily whispered.
"You've done good, kid," James added, his voice rough but warm. "Better than anyone could have asked for."
Harry's throat tightened painfully. "Will it hurt?" he whispered, his voice barely a breath.
His mother shook her head. "No, baby," she promised. "Dying… it's just like falling asleep."
His vision blurred with tears. "Stay with me?" he whispered.
"Always," James said. "Until the end."
He took the final step forward, standing directly in front of Voldemort. Bellatrix's smile stretched wide with glee, her wand twitching at her side.
Harry took a breath, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. For the children. For Luna. For everyone.
"I do this willingly, Tom," he said, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "For them. You will keep your word."
Voldemort's smile was cold and cruel. "Of course, Harry," he murmured, raising his wand. "I am nothing if not a man of my word."
The Death Eaters fell silent as Voldemort's wand lifted—Avada Kedavra poised on his lips.
Behind him, Harry could still hear his friends struggling, Luna's desperate sobs, Theo's screams of rage. Grimbok's low growl of frustration.
He wanted to turn back just once.
But he couldn't.
All he could do was apologise for all his broken promises.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Then there was nothing but green light.
Somewhere—faintly—he swore he heard the distant roar of dragons and Harry smiled one last time.