Chapter Four: Faith

Chapter Four: Faith

Voldemort trained his wand on Snape's heart, his face twisted in fury. Harry watched the confrontation in shocked disbelief, forgetting about his defenses. Without warning, he felt an excruciating bolt of purple light slash hotly across his chest and heard Bellatrix Lestrange laugh maniacally. Harry couldn't help but cry out in pain as he fell to his knees. He felt blood begin to soak his robes; looking down, he realized that he was no longer under the protection of the Disillusionment Charm. He could see an appalling gash in his chest and, glancing up in horror, he knew that everyone else could see him as well.

Bellatrix shrieked in triumph, drawing Voldemort's attention from Snape. Harry saw Snape's eyes widen in surprise as the former Potions master moved closer to Harry's past self, unconscious on the ground. Voldemort ignored Snape as he advanced on Harry instead, red eyes glowing with renewed malice. Harry struggled to stand and face Voldemort yet again.

"Harry! How remarkable!" Voldemort looked back and forth between Harry and his past self. "I don't know how you managed it, but I'm most impressed." He narrowed his eyes. "Seeing as your other self is currently unconscious, I'll have to make do with you now." He aimed his wand at Harry, and before Harry could even try to disarm him, he felt the Cruciatus Curse for the third time that night.

The pain was worse than ever. It felt as if a thousand tiny knives were slicing into his skin and ripping the gash in his chest open even more. Harry heard himself screaming and feared it was all over. Then he realized that he had saved Ron and Hermione; he had done what he had come back to do, only Voldemort had not been vanquished yet. He couldn't give up now, or everything could still change in the swirling eddies of time. Eyes watering, Harry raised his wand hand and cried, "Expelliarmus!" with as much force as he could.

It was enough. Voldemort's wand flew out of his hands, settling nearby, and the Cruciatus Curse lifted immediately. Harry threw himself on top of the wand, landing on his stomach, struggling for breath, and desperately wondering what to do next as he felt the strength begin to seep from his body. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed Snape edge closer to his past self. No one else saw Snape drop a wand next to the unconscious form of Harry's past self. Bellatrix was staring at Harry with satisfied glee.

Voldemort watched his wand disappear under Harry's battered body and laughed. "Harry! So, you have my wand. I have other weapons at hand, you know." He raised his arm, and within moments several Dementors floated over, hovering above him as if waiting for orders. The air grew cold, and Harry felt the happiness and hope begin to drain from him as it always did in the presence of Dementors.

"This is most unexpected," said Voldemort, his red eyes glowing dangerously. "I really only wanted one Chosen One, but I'll certainly take two...and gladly." He motioned at three of the Dementors, clearly unaffected by their arrival. "Take him, he's yours."

The Dementors rushed at Harry, and he frantically flipped over on his back. "Expecto Patronum!" he cried, but to his dismay only a filmy silver mist came from his wand. He was too weak from his wound, or too overwhelmed. Gathering his courage and searching for the happy memory he needed, he tried again. "Expecto Patronum!" The silvery shield grew substantially, but there was still no stag to run down the Dementors. Panic began to consume Harry's thoughts: Dumbledore had said he could not die in the past, that the consequences would be unimaginable. Harry heard screaming and saw Ron's pale face in his mind, alive but fading. He felt the iciness envelop him as the Dementors lowered their hoods, scabbed hands reaching out for him. . .

Abruptly the cold became less intense, and as Harry's vision began to focus, he saw the Dementors backing off. A large silver raven was darting across the hilltop, driving them away. Shaking his head to clear it, Harry struggled to his knees. He watched as Voldemort turned on Snape, who was standing over Harry's past self, conjuring the brilliant silver bird. Bellatrix raised her wand toward the former Potions professor, but Voldemort stopped her.

"No, Bella. He is mine." His voice was deadly, and Harry knew then that Snape was a dead man. Harry fought to stand, to raise his wand, but he was weak and fell back to his knees. He didn't realize that he had left Voldemort's wand unprotected. The Dark Lord Summoned it easily into his hands and pointed it toward Snape's heart once more.

"So you reveal your true allegiance at last," said Voldemort softly. Harry watched in disbelief as Voldemort advanced on Snape again; the former Potions master still refused to lower his guard. "Protecting the Chosen One, as you always have. I should have known. You have betrayed me at last, Severus." He raised his wand, ready to end Snape's life.

"No!" shouted Harry, aiming a weak curse at Voldemort from where he still struggled to stand. It hit the Dark Lord's shoulder and sent the green jet of light off into the clouds.

Bellatrix turned on Harry, wand raised. Her face was a mask of manic fury as she cried, "Sectumsempra!" and slashed out at Harry. Her curse went wide when she was hit by a stream of green light from Snape's wand and sank to the ground, dead.

Harry stared at Snape in stunned shock; the former professor had saved his life for the third time since the battle had begun. Before either of them could react, a bolt of evil green light struck the older man square in the chest. Snape fell limply to the grass next to Harry's past self, a look of surprise on his pale, lifeless face.

Once more, Harry faced Voldemort alone.

"Harry Potter," whispered Voldemort, his voice deadly with anger. "You will die, both of you. No one can save you now." He advanced on Harry, firing a stream of blue light. Harry barely parried it and cast a weak hex back in return. Voldemort laughed. "Give in, Harry! You are alone! Everyone who is still alive will be dead within moments. Why prolong your suffering?" He cast another curse at Harry, who couldn't block it in time; he fell to the ground again, his body wracked with pain.

Once more Voldemort called the Dementors, and they swarmed the hilltop, swirling around Harry and Voldemort like a filmy snake coiling around its final victim. The field grew cold as all the hope and love was sucked from the air, and Harry felt the familiar bleakness and despair begin to fill his heart. He struggled to cast his Patronus as he heard the screams and a ringing laughter in his ears. Voldemort was going to win, Ron was going to die. . . Harry had come back only to fail again . . .

Through the dim mist clouding his mind, Harry heard a distant sound. It reminded him of a something he had heard years ago in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry's eyes flew open when he realized it was phoenix song, and as it filled him with warmth, Harry found the strength to pull himself to his knees once more. He was astonished at what he saw.

A great red and gold bird had appeared on the ground next to Severus Snape and was calling out a mournful song to the night. The song spoke of faith, love, and loyalty; Fawkes was singing about Ron and Hermione, Charlie Weasley and Luna Lovegood, and all the others who had stood with Harry against Voldemort, even Snape. For a moment the Dementors retreated from the powerful music, until Voldemort shook himself out of the bird's enchanting spell and fired a Killing Curse at the beautiful animal.

Fawkes swallowed the curse, green light exploding into a hundred sparks of red and gold. Harry expected to see a tiny baby phoenix fall to the ground, as he had once before in the Ministry of Magic. He was heartbroken when no hatchling appeared: Fawkes was gone. Voldemort laughed triumphantly and called the Dementors back toward Harry for a third time, plunging him once more into a nightmare of screams and laughter and sharp sobs. . .

As Harry felt their cold presence surround him again, he searched desperately for help; but there was no one left standing nearby, no one to save him. He was alone, badly injured, and surrounded by death, darkness and despair. How could the power of love save him now?

With a sudden flash of fire, a single red feather floated to the ground in front of him, and Harry heard the echoes of an otherworldly song resonate across the bleak field. It sent shivers down his spine and brought tears to his eyes. It also filled him with the liquid warmth of undying love. Thoughts of Ron, Hermione, and all the others he cared about and fought for came rushing back to him; he had come back to save them, and he would not fail now. He could not fail them now. Raising his wand, he stood and cried, "Expecto Patronum!" with all his might.

Harry staggered as a dazzling silver Patronus shot from the tip of his wand. Yet instead of a stag, the shape that floated over the hilltop was that of a bird: a great shimmering phoenix whose wings filled half the sky. It began to chase away the Dementors as Harry stood breathing heavily, his wand pointed toward the darkening clouds, all his strength, hope, and love poured into the shining phoenix.

Voldemort cried out in rage and raised his wand toward Harry. Harry's eyes widened in panic and then surprise as behind the Dark Lord a shape slowly rose and leveled its own wand at Voldemort. Harry saw his past self stand, shake off the ropes that had bound him, and cry, "Exsequor fatum cum dilectio!" Voldemort reeled around, but he was not fast enough to block the powerful spell that raced toward him. Harry knew he would not have been able to do so regardless; this was the spell destined to destroy the Dark Lord, just as he had been the one destined to cast it.

With a sound like the shattering of a hundred glass orbs, a brilliant yellow light tore through the air toward Voldemort and hit him in the chest as he turned. It struck him in the heart, and Harry watched in astonishment as Voldemort screamed in fury, clawing at the bright light that was spreading like blood through his thin fingers. The golden luminescence grew until it completely enveloped the shrieking Dark Lord. With a violent release, the light exploded into a thousand tiny sparks, scattering frantically through the air and blowing a keen wind across the field. Harry was knocked to the ground and saw his past self fall backward as well. The explosion rolled over the hilltop and across the field with a deafening sound and a powerful shockwave. Dirt and dust flew into the sky and finally settled on a scene of deadly quiet.

Voldemort was gone, vanquished forever.

The survivors lay scattered about the field, unconscious. Harry clawed his way back to reality, knowing he had to get up and get away before he was discovered. He opened his eyes to a scene much like the one he remembered: bodies lying everywhere, some forever silent, some moaning quietly. Harry saw his past self lying unconscious nearby, Snape's body not far away. Beyond that lay Ron and Hermione, alive but gravely injured. He had saved them, just as he had intended.

And just as he had during his third year, he had saved himself as well.

Harry forced himself to his feet in spite of the unbearable pain and weakness that wracked his entire body. Deep down Harry knew that he was gravely wounded and weak. He had suffered a gruesome injury and several Unforgivable Curses; more importantly he had drained himself of much of his strength when he had cast the startling new Patronus. It was almost impossible, the simple act of standing, but he knew that he could not be seen because his journey back in time wasn't over yet. He had to make it back to the clearing in the forest.

Absently, Harry reached for the Time-Turner tucked around his neck. When he pulled it from his robes, he saw that the curse that had struck his chest had also smashed the tiny silver instrument. The hourglass was shattered, and the sand had run out: the Time-Turner was destroyed. There would be no more going back.

Harry quietly made his way toward Ron and Hermione. Ron was hurt badly, but was still alive. Hermione fluttered her eyes as Harry checked her pulse, and he knew she would be all right as well. Gently, Harry placed the shattered Time-Turner in the pocket of Hermione's robes; she would figure it out and help Ron understand what had happened. Hearing a sound, Harry saw other survivors beginning to stir. He left the hill, moving toward the forest on weak legs, forcing himself to stay upright in spite of the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him.

Harry's breathing was becoming harder and harder. He coughed, trying to draw more air into his struggling lungs, and was alarmed when he saw blood in his hand. He began to walk faster, though he felt his strength failing.

Fred and George were awake and crawling painfully toward Charlie. Harry had seen Charlie go down and hoped he was alive. He moved past them, looking for other survivors. Ginny lay next to Luna, her body half on top of the blond girl, as if protecting her from the final blast of Voldemort's death. His heart jumped into his throat as he gently turned Ginny over, and he was relieved to tears when he felt her steady breathing. She had a terrible gash on her head, and her arm was clearly broken, but Harry knew she would survive. Quietly he summoned what little strength he had and conjured a wooden board that would set her arm and ease the pain. He leaned down to kiss her forehead, and then continued through the wakening field of battle. Harry checked on more friends, forcing himself to keep moving after finding them alive, in spite of the pain that promised to topple him at any moment.

The setting sun cast its blood red tinge over the horrific aftermath of the battle. Harry knew now that his friends and loved ones had survived. He had saved them, just as he had promised; his task was over. He made his way toward the clearing in the forest, ready for time to catch up with itself.

Harry walked painfully through the trees, his strength beginning to fail him at last. He felt the blood in his lungs and coughed again. His steps grew slower as his limbs grew heavier. Finally he pushed his way into the clearing and collapsed on the ground in exhaustion. The last thing he saw was his past self, jumping up in shock and pointing his wand in stunned surprise at the strange bloody man who had wandered into the forest.

Harry wanted to tell his past self that it would be okay, that the power of love would truly save his friends and win the battle. Yet darkness closed around him, and he couldn't see or speak any longer. He heard a deep sigh, followed by the loud crack of Apparation. Then the pain disappeared, and Harry knew no more.

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A/N: Another wonderful thank you to myownmuggle for her great beta work and her help with the final spell. I wanted to use Aramaic, but had a hard time finding the right words so I turned to Latin. I wanted it to very loosely mean: "I fulfill my destiny with love." I must also credit the wonderful editorials at Mugglenet, particularly those of Lady Lupin, for their influence on this story.