***
The blast from the spell knocked them all off their feet. Remus promptly picked himself up and made sure the others were all right. Hermione and Ron seemed fine, but Harry was fading in and out of consciousness. Looking up, Remus saw that a couple of trees had toppled over, blocking the path they had taken, and to make matters worse, one of those trees was where they had leant their broomsticks earlier. There was no way of retrieving them now.
“Apparating restrictions be damned,” he said as he knelt next to Harry and ran a hand across Harry’s brow.
Hermione complained at first, until she realised that no one was agreeing with her. But it was all academic anyway, because try as they might, they could not Apparate: it seemed as if the Soul Dislocation Spell had left a residue of unstable magic around them.
“I don’t understand,” Remus muttered to himself. “There wasn’t a problem at Grimmauld Place, unless…. Perhaps the Fidelius Charm was able to soak up the excess energy produced. Well, no matter, I don’t see how it’s going to help right now.” He motioned for Ron to help him lift Harry and said, “We’d better move.”
It wasn’t easy navigating through the darkness and trying to find an alternative way through the undergrowth, and they had had to start off in the wrong direction to get anywhere. At first, he was grateful that Hermione and Ron hadn’t returned to the Burrow, as Hermione had brought a map with her. But after traipsing across the countryside for over an hour and unable to check using the Four Points Spell, his faith in her map-reading skills began to fade. And he wasn’t the only one to feel this way.
“But Hermione,” Ron said, “I swear I saw that same stream before. We’re walking in circles.”
“No, that one is over there, and we’re here,” Hermione said as she pointed at the map in the darkness.
“But that’s miles away; we can’t have walked that far.”
As they continued to bicker, Harry gradually regained consciousness and started to move restlessly, making it difficult for Remus and Ron to keep hold of him. After a few minutes, they gave up, and Remus tried and failed to Apparate once more.
“Harry, can you stand?” he asked. Harry nodded and pulled himself upright, but he swayed precariously, leaving Remus to hold on to his arm. “Wherever we are, we can’t keep going: Harry’s too tired to walk.”
“We can’t stay here, can we?” Hermione said, her voice sounding uncertain. “Is it safe?”
“It’ll have to be.” Remus said, and he looked around and spotted a thicker patch of trees nearby that would provide a certain amount of cover. “Over there looks like a good spot to camp down for the night. Hopefully we’ll be able to Apparate later or, at least, walk the rest of the way in the morning when we can see better. Can you two take Harry for a moment?”
Ron and Hermione obliged, one on each side of Harry, encouraging him to walk to where Remus was setting up a fire.
“Mmm,” Harry muttered as Ron helped him to sit next to the fire, “why do you smell of flowers?”
“Flowers?” Ron asked in disgust.
“Yeah.” Then Harry lowered his voice as he added, “A bit like Ginny, in fact.”
“I, erm, ran out of shampoo. I think the bottle I found at the back of the cupboard belongs to her.”
Harry let out a snort of laughter.
“Are you laughing ‘cos I smell like a girl?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. Don’t worry: you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”
Hermione, Ron and Harry settled down next to the warmth of the flames, and before long, snores could be heard from Ron’s direction. Remus remained seated on a log as he stared out at the shadowy trees, straining to listen for any unwelcome sounds.
“Remus, aren’t you going to sleep?” Harry asked.
“I think it best if one of us stays awake, just in case there’s any trouble.”
“But you need some rest, as well.”
“I’ll wake you up if I get too tired.”
In the light of the flames, Remus could see Harry sitting upright.
“Do you remember?” Harry began awkwardly. “I mean, when I was in Sirius’s body?”
“Yes, I do,” Remus said. He didn’t think he could deal with having that conversation just yet. When Harry looked at him expectantly, Remus merely added, “I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you.”
“That’s okay. I, er, got used to the situation.” They sat in an uneasy silence for a few moments, and then Harry said, “Has much time passed since I’ve been gone?”
It took Remus by surprise when he thought about this and realised that it had all happened in only three days. He briefly mentioned the book, but left out the news about Tonks—that could wait until they were back at the Burrow.
“You didn’t translate the word for ‘vessel’ correctly,” Remus explained. “That’s why the spell went wrong. It didn’t mean just an object, but specifically a body. And it’s a very powerful spell that needs a Restriction Charm to force it to a certain time and space—I suppose you didn’t do that.”
“I, er…. No, I didn’t.”
“No matter: you’re back now and the spell managed to obliterate the locket,” Remus said with a smile that Harry returned. “What did you use as the proxy item?”
“Sirius’s old Herbology text book from Hogwarts—the one with all the writing in.”
“I see.”
Remus took a few moments to think about this, and then he added, “The
magic sought out Sirius’s soul when it resonated at its closest to the
imprint—his essence, if you like—that had been left on the book. That was probably just before he got the new
text book.”
“Oh,” Harry said, looking embarrassed by what he had done. “I hope I didn’t cause too much trouble…. What happened after I left the past?”
“Well, we both got in trouble for disrupting a few of the wards at Hogwarts,” Remus said with a chuckle. “If I’d had any idea how much power that spell used, I never would have let you do it.”
“I’ll be sure to double check next time. But what about Sirius? Were the extra detentions a problem?”
“No, I warned him before he went back. He was adamant that I’d been sleeping with someone else, though, which caused a few arguments because I didn’t understand why he’d think I’d do that. It took a couple of weeks for things to settle down, and even then, he couldn’t bring himself to trust me completely. But, to tell the truth, I think the lack of trust had more to do with what I wouldn’t tell him when he was here, than anything you did.”
“So Sirius was here in my body?”
Remus nodded and tentatively related a few details. “I’m sorry, but I acted rather inappropriately. I just found it a bit overwhelming to have him back in my life. I should have resisted, but….” Remus stopped himself from going any further and hung his head. “I’m sorry.”
When he looked up, he saw that Harry was studying him.
“But now he’s left you, again,” Harry said. “Are you going to be all right?”
Remus gave a weak smile and nodded, but he could tell that Harry didn’t believe him. Remus wasn’t sure that he believed it himself. It was hard to think about what the future held for him. Emotionally, everything had stopped with Sirius.
“Get some sleep, Harry. You’ll need it.”
**
It was still dark when Harry woke. Remus was shaking him roughly and telling him that they had to leave: Death Eaters had been heard nearby.
He tried not to panic as he pulled himself upright and followed Remus, wondering why no one had thought of Apparating but not having the strength to do so himself. Ron and Hermione were now just vague grey shapes as they rushed ahead of him and Remus through the trees, and from behind came shouts and the sound of undergrowth being hexed out of the way. Running faster, he reached across to take his wand that Remus was holding out for him and gripped it tightly, hoping that he wouldn’t need to use it. Although, the shock of what was happening had woken him thoroughly, he was still feeling dazed from the spell.
Just when he thought he could see an end to the trees in the distance, a bolt of red light missed his face by inches, and he watched as it caught Remus on one shoulder, as if in slow motion, sending him sprawling to the ground twisting onto his back as he fell. Hermione and Ron had not seen the hex. They continued to run in the distance, passing out of sight.
Harry pointed his wand at Remus, shouted, “Enervate,” and held his breath. Then a wave of relief passed through him as Remus gasped and his eyes snapped open.
He didn’t have time to help Remus to his feet, though. Two Death Eaters had caught up with them. Not stopping to think, Harry swirled around, firing off Stunning Spells at both of them in quick succession.
When he turned back to Remus, he was surprised to see him still on the ground. Remus coughed and a dark speck of liquid spilled out over his lips. Harry’s surprise left him and he stared downwards in concern, dropping to his knees.
“Remus,” he said as he touched Remus’s face with a shaky hand. “Remus, talk to me. You’re okay, right? Everything’s going to be okay.”
Remus moaned loudly, startling Harry, and when he spoke, it was so faint that Harry barely heard him.
“I feel cold.”
Harry called out to Hermione and Ron, feeling a sickly sensation welling up inside, but they were too far away. He was at a loss at what to do. He knew very little first aid, and it wasn’t obvious what was wrong with Remus. When he tried to roll Remus over, in the hope that his wound was something he could patch up, Remus cried out in agony.
“Don’t,” Remus pleaded weakly. “It’s…. it hurts…. I’ve landed… on something.”
Harry could hear a gurgling sound, now, in time with Remus’s wheezy breaths. He laid a hand on Remus’s chest. The material was wet, and there was an unexpected hardness that poked up very slightly just below his ribs. Whatever Remus had landed on had gone all the way through.
“What can I do?” Harry asked in desperation as his stomach gave a sickening lurch. “Tell me how to make it better. Please.”
Remus only shook his head slightly and tears of pain ran down his cheeks. “Go. Get yourself back to the Burrow.”
“No. We’ll get you St. Mungo’s. You’ll be fine.”
In response, Remus took a shuddery breath and lowered his eyelids.
Harry couldn’t remember the last time he felt so helpless. Remus was dying here in front of him and there was nothing he could do. He still felt too dizzy from the spell to even attempt to Apparate himself, let alone Side-Along Apparition. But if there was no other alternative, perhaps he should try. He faltered as he held his wand out. What if it went wrong? What if Apparating Remus in his condition only made it worse? Would Ron and Hermione realise something had happened and bring help in time anyway?
Standing up, Harry let out a yell of frustration at his uncertainty. Anger was welling up inside him. He lashed out at a tree stump, kicking and shouting, raging so completely that he nearly didn’t register that Remus was muttering something.
“What did you say, Remus?” he asked softly as he dropped to the ground once more. He clutched at Remus’s hand, a wave compassion flooding through him that stilled his fury.
“I’m scared,” Remus said, his voice now so unsteady that it was hard to discern his words.
“Don’t be scared. I’m here. I’m with you.”
“What if he’s not… not there?”
It took Harry a few seconds before he realised what Remus was implying, what Remus was hoping for in his last moments.
“I’m sure Sirius will be,” Harry said, and he choked back on his urge to cry. He knew he was lying. He couldn’t be sure about death, about the possibility of an afterlife or the chance to meet lost loved ones. But Remus needed this lie. “Close your eyes. He’ll be there.”
Remus took a sudden rattling gasp and then fell silent. The only way that Harry knew that he was still alive was from the weak grip of his hand.
Harry leant forwards and whispered, “It won’t be long. I promise. Just imagine he’s here, now.”
He brushed his lips across Remus’s, refusing to acknowledge the dirt and the blood, feeling Remus kiss back with lips that were barely moving. Try as he might, Harry could not stop himself from letting out a sob.
“Oh dear.” At the sound of that familiar icy voice, Harry froze. “Harry Potter seems to be broken.”
Slowly, Harry rose and turned to face Voldemort, holding his wand ready.
“I was hoping,” Voldemort continued, “that your defeat would prove to be somewhat of a challenge. I guess I’ll have to put up with second best.”
A few hexes were fired in Harry’s direction that were far too easy to block and made it clear that Voldemort was just toying with him. As he ducked and cast his own spells that Voldemort seemed to anticipate, Harry reminded himself that there were no more Horcruxes left, that he stood a chance of finishing this once and for all.
“I’m very disappointed in you,” Voldemort said. “Tut, tut, tut. Surely you don’t think that this body of mine—where the last piece of my soul resides—would be any simpler to destroy than the other Horcruxes?”
Harry felt the blood drain from his face. Of course, Voldemort, an expert Legilimens, would be able to read his thoughts, and with the meagre practice that Harry had dedicated to Occlumency, there didn’t seem any point in trying to block them.
Voldemort gave a thin smiled and laughed. “Yes, you should just give up now. You cannot win. Getting rid of an inanimate object was such an easy task compared to trying to defeat me in person. Consider this, boy: you can’t kill me without destroying my body, but to destroy that, you’d have to kill me first.”
Voldemort sent off another barrage of hexes, and Harry retaliated feebly. So there really was no chance of success, Harry realised. If only he could escape, give himself more time to think of another solution.
“Escape? I don’t think so, Potter. Do you really think I’d let you get away from me again? Expelliarmus!”
Harry could only watch as his wand flew into the air and Voldemort stepped forward to catch it.
“Shall we get this over with, then?” Voldemort asked. Then, in one decisive motion, he snapped Harry’s wand in two.
Any thoughts of survival faded with the sound of his wand cracking. He could not think of any way to defeat Voldemort, even with his wand intact, but now, his fate seemed inevitable. He broke out in a cold sweat, and in a terror-stricken daze, he pulled himself upright and started to run for cover.
“Oh no, we can’t have that. Crucio!”
Harry collapsed, writhing on the floor in agony, screaming as pain flared through his body as though he was being sliced by white-hot knives. Then it stopped just as suddenly as it had begun. Breathlessly, he tried to move his body, urged it to move. He succeeded in crawling a few inches before his hand touched something thin and wooden. Another wand, possibly Remus’s, possibly one of the Death Eater’s that Harry had struck down earlier. Just what he hoped to achieve with another wizard’s wand, he wasn’t sure.
In an instant, Harry sent the Cruciatus Curse back at Voldemort. Voldemort laughed and brought a hand to his nose.
“A nosebleed. How quaint.”
It was the wand that was partly to blame. Harry had felt the curse weaken and begin to dissipate as soon as it had left the tip. With the amount of hatred that he held for Voldemort, Harry was sure he could have done much more damage if he had had his own wand.
“I’m getting bored, Potter,” Voldemort said and he cast another hex that Harry didn’t recognise. It sent him flying and as he landed he heard a sickening crunch at the same time that a flash of pain shot through his right leg. “Time’s up. Avada Kedavra!”
Pushing with his forearms, in one last desperate attempt to move out of the way, Harry managed to roll across the stupefied body of a Death Eater, which took the full force of the Killing Curse. The motionless face stared back at him, muddied and bloody, with a gaping mouth and half-closed eyes. Where there had once been life was nothing more than a vacant shell, an empty vessel.
Finally, Harry knew what he could do.
Clamping down hard on his thoughts, he focussed all of his pitiful Occlumency skills into that split second before he acted. Then he rolled over, pointed his wand and shouted, putting as much energy into the spell as he could muster.
“Animae Extorquere!”
Purple light rushed from the end of the wand, just as before, hitting Voldemort squarely in the chest. With a small flick of his wrist, the stream of light connected with the Death Eater’s corpse. The wand began to shake furiously, and Harry held on, willing the spell to work. If he could separate what was left of Voldemort from his body, then perhaps it could be destroyed after all.
When the light had subsided, Voldemort
stood rigidly like a statue. It had
worked, and Harry wasted no time in firing a hex that left the empty body
crumbling to dust. Behind him, he could
hear a drawn-out, rasping breath, and he turned to see the Death Eater’s eyes
glaring at him in hatred fighting to remain open. An arm twitched briefly, and then the eyes
fell closed once more. At the same
instant, Harry’s scar flared up, burning furiously, until gradually, the
uncomfortable heat faded to a prickling sensation, and then petering out to
nothing. All that was left was silence
and an uneasy peace.
Harry slumped to the floor next to Remus as the sounds of the wood slowly filled the void: the distant trickle of a stream, branches rustling against each other in the breeze. Then from far off, he heard voices. As they drew nearer, Harry could see that it was Mr Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt who were charging through the undergrowth towards them.
“Mr Weasley,” Harry called out. “Remus is hurt.”
“Are you all right, Harry?” Mr Weasley asked, and he stooped to cast a charm that Harry did not recognise.
“Yes, but what about Remus?”
“He’s very weak.” Mr Weasley turned to Kingsley. “Could you Apparate to St. Mungo’s and get them to send an emergency team?”
“I’m right on it,” Kingsley said, and with a crack, he left.
Only moments later, several Medi-wizards had arrived. In the ensuing commotion, Harry let himself be pulled about by a stout witch, but he found it hard to care about his own injuries. Now that he knew that Remus was going to be all right, nothing else mattered. He feigned interest as Mr Weasley explained why he and Kingsley were there, until Ron and Hermione’s names were mentioned. Then Harry felt a stab of guilt when he realised that he had not spared a thought for either of them. He listened with relief to the news that the pair of them had made it safely to the edge of the wood, where they had been able to Apparate the rest of the way to The Burrow and get help.
The Medi-witch who had been assessing Harry’s injuries, insisted on casting a Sleeping Charm on Harry, so that he was as relaxed as possible for the journey to the hospital. It was only then he realised that one very important piece of news had been missed out.
“Mr Weasley,” he slurred with a genuinely satisfied smile, “it’s over. I’ve done it: Voldemort’s gone.”