A/N: It's the end yo. It's kind of sad and reliving at the same time. First off, let's congratulate my amazing beta, because she is totally amazing for beta-ing this entire thing, and for just being a generally amazing person who helped me revise my stories. Yeah, all of them. So go bombard yamiyugi23 with glomps and thanks. XD
Disclaimer: Despite all my attempts at bargaining with JKR, I still do not own Harry Potter and crew, nor Anita Blake and crew, but I wouldn't want to own her anyways.
Harry Potter took a deep, if slightly unsteady breath, as he lay in the coffin. After spending most of his childhood in a cupboard, small spaces still terrified him, and he wondered again what he was doing. Why couldn't he be like every other fairly normal human around and just ignore everything preternatural? He was hyperventilating and he knew it, lightheaded and perfectly terrified. He had to admit, it wasn't the most elegant solution, but it was simple. Pretend to be dead, then pop up and kill the Necromancer when he was dug up. Unfortunately, they had all forgotten to figure his claustrophobia into the equation.
He forced himself to calm down, slipping into a deep meditation as quickly as humanly possible, because despite everything, he was human, and he knew it. His mortality was not something that he had ever denied, but now he wished that he was something other than a freak of nature, bitten by a werewolf with an ancient wolf spirit inside of him. The meditation would hide his magic, and that was a must, because any Necromancer worth their salt would be able to feel magic as powerful and sentient as his own, and then he would be in deep shit.
As much as he always tried not to, he couldn't help but allow his mind to travel back to the Battle of Hogwarts, and in meditation he could do nothing about the memories flashing past his mind's eye unless he wanted to release a large flare of magic that would tell every sentient thing within fifty miles that he was alive and terrified. No, he let the memories flow and prayed that this time he would find some peace.
He was panting heavily, glaring at Dumbledore. "Albus, if we don't destroy them now, we won't get a chance like this again for Merlin knows how long. It's the perfect time, we just have to get organized and strike quickly and they won't have a chance." His eyes were gleaming insanely, and he just wanted this war over and done with. "Albus, if you won't order this, I will, and we will see how many will follow you when you will do nothing proactive."
It was a threat mixed in with a promise, and Albus Dumbledore bowed his head sadly. "If you insist on this, then order it Harry. But I want no part in such a massacre."
Harry shrugged. "I don't really care at this point Albus: I just want this over with."
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. "As do I, but you do not see me ordering the massacre of innocent people to get it done!"
Harry ignored him and called for silence in the Great Hall. "I have a plan that may very well end this tonight," he called out, his voice ringing in the stupefied silence. "However, this plan calls for a quick attack, and I want to know: Who is with me?" The crowd in the Hall roared their agreement, their spirits rising now that there seemed to be an end to this war in their sight and grasp, and Harry smiled. "Good. Now, the plan is simple. We will attack at sunset, and after the first spell is fired it's every man for himself, because we don't have the time to come up with a sufficient formation in the time we have left."
At sunset he bared his teeth at the Death Eaters, allowing them to see the feral beast that resided within him. He wasn't willing to play nice anymore, and the Death Eaters were fair game. He smiled at Ron, who stood beside him as always, and spoke quietly. "I appreciate this Ron, I really do. You're the only one who sees the potential in this plan."
Ron shrugged and said, "That's because I know how your mind works mate, you're completely psycho, but you know how shit works, and I have faith in you that you won't send us to our execution."
Harry couldn't explain how happy that made him feel, so he just looked quickly to the approaching army, missing the surprised and now suspicious look on Ron's face.
"Alright," he roared to his own army, "Let's go, and no mercy!"
They roared their agreement and surged past him and Ron, and Harry smiled thinly, already searching for Voldemort. He was through playing games, it was time to get serious now.
He tore through the Death Eaters like a knife through warm butter, Ron right by his side, and he swore as he slammed into Ron, slamming him into the circle where Voldemort was trying to complete his ritual to make Hogwarts power his. But he was not the true Heir, and the Castle knew it, and Harry was forced to his knees, words spilling past his lips without his consent.
"I, Harry James Potter, claim the power of Hogwarts. It is mine by blood, and mine by right, and I will not accept this usurper attempting to take the power that is mine. Come to me Hogwarts."
It was a simple enough ritual, but the Dark Magic flowing through the circle made even the Death Eaters cringe back, and Harry barely had a moment to hope that Ron had gotten out okay before he was back on his feet, Hogwarts buzzing in the back of his mind, conversing with his own Magic.
"Let's play Tommy," he whispered, his voice raspy from the Magic pouring through him and more menacing than it had ever been. He threw everything he had at the older man from the moment they started, and that was the only advantage that he had. He could hear terrified exclamations as Hogwarts crumbled, but he already knew what was happening. He was using too much of Her magic, and it was destroying her, and She was giving it to him willingly.
He glanced to the side in an attempt to find a weapon, and cried out at the sight of little Lily Granger-Weasley, dead in a pool of red, and he screamed out his rage to the skies. He released blocks that he didn't even know he's had, and before he knew it Voldemort was dead and Ron was crawling to his side. He shoved him away, whispering, "Leave Ron, tell them we won. Tell them!" He crawled away unwillingly, and Harry lay there exhausted, only now noticing the full moon above him as he heard the wolf howl, and he smirked bitterly. "Come and get some Greyback," he whispered as the wolf loped out of the forest and he choked on the blood from his slit throat.
Harry didn't feel a thing as he watched the memories, only a vague sense that he probably should have listened to Albus, but now he was dead too and there was no one that could help him. He gently pulled himself out of his meditation as he heard the sharp noises of dirt being shoveled magically. His magic flared just a little, and the sounds ceased for a moment before a rough voice muttered, "Of course his Magic is still in his body, it hasn't been three days yet and he was one of the most powerful Necromancers that anyone knew."
Harry allowed the coffin to be dug up, and he allowed it to be opened, but he didn't expect the cold hand immediately on his cheek, nor the magic delving into his soul, attempting to get him to submit, and he convulsed, screaming, and the only thing grounding was him the cold hand as he blacked out.
He heard growling and he gently placed a hand on the snout of his wolf spirit, his silent apology silencing the wolf for now. He kept his eyes trained on the shadows, and nearly cried as the man walked out of them.
"Hello Harry," Ron Weasley smiled, although the smile didn't reach his eyes. "I should have figured that you wouldn't die that easily. You are the most powerful wizard since Merlin after all."
Harry could say nothing to that mocking voice, instead staring in horror at the terribly disfigured face of his former best friend.
Ron laughed, noticing where he was looking. "Oh, these?" He fingered the scars like they were jewelry and shrugged. "Just small souvenirs from the Dark Magic you invoked, with me still in the circle!"
Harry choked. "I didn't know that you were still in the circle Ron, I swear it."
Ron sneered. "You know, I actually thought that you cared about us, but all you did was lead us to the slaughter! Was it worth it Harry? All those deaths, were they worth ending your war? Was the death of my daughter worth it?"
What could Harry say except, "Your daughter was not supposed to be on a battlefield Ron, her death wasn't my fault."
Harry didn't expect him to rush at him, but he desperately fended him off, all his self defense lessons far from his mind in the face of his best friend.
"You will die here Harry," Ron said venomously, "And then I will have my revenge on the world who wronged me. You should be glad," he cooed mockingly, "All the people who killed Remus, who rejected you, they'll die too."
Harry slowly gathered all of his magic, his eyes gleaming with icy tears. "I loved you Ron: you were my best friend, the only one who believed in me, and for that I will attempt to make this as painless as possible."
He could feel Ron's own magic ripping and tearing at him, but he did nothing about it, tears dripping down his face. He was doing what he had sworn he would never do again, not after Voldemort. He was going to rip out Ron's magic, and most likely kill him in the process. He reached out and pulled, and Ron just fell to the ground.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered as he faded back into consciousness, glancing over the side of the coffin to see Ron in a wheelchair, dead. "I'm sorry," he repeated, before he cringed. He felt so empty. He hated magical exhaustion.
Jean-Claude and Asher watched him with poorly concealed concern as he looked back at them.
"It's done," he said simply, and Asher snorted.
"We gathered that Mon Loupe, but what we want to know is how did you handle it?" His face was full of concern. "From what we understand it was an old friend of yours."
Harry paused and thought about it for a moment before shrugging. "Not really," he murmured, staring out the window. "Not really."