Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4552
Characters: Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Albus Dumbledore, Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Remus Lupin, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Ernie Macmillan, Colin Creevey, Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback, Narcissa Malfoy, Peter Pettigrew, Madeleine Yaxley (OC), Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley, Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks

The great silver phoenix soared over the heads of the startled Death Eaters. It swooped low, ruffling the twins' hair as it passed overhead, and flew swiftly through the door to fulfill its mission -- a signal to Moody and his Aurors that the moment was at hand.

In the split second of silence that followed the appearance of the Patronus, the Death Eaters and Voldemort stared in shock at the man they thought to be Severus Snape, who stared back, holding Voldemort's gaze. Then, with a tiny pop, a redheaded figure appeared, grinning, at Voldemort's shoulder.

Oh look, thought Fred in delight. There's two of us again.

The grinning man made what looked like a clumsy grab for Voldemort's wand. Whatever power Dumbledore's gaze held, it made the Dark wizard's reactions a beat too slow. Only the twins caught the deft flick of their double's fingers as the true wand disappeared down a sleeve, and the false one clattered to the floor at Voldemort's feet.

With a lurch, the world began to move again.

"Hold them!" Voldemort screamed, rising to his feet.

Instantly, every Death Eater's wand was in his or her hand, trained on Dumbledore or the visible twins.

White with fury, Voldemort swooped to grab the wand from the floor, then spun, jabbing it at the twins. He breathed deeply once, twice, visibly gathering the shreds of his composure about him. When at last he spoke, there was mockery on his lips, but murder still burned cold in his eyes.

"This is Dumbledore's brilliant plan to defeat me?" he asked. "Sending a clumsy boy to steal my wand? Lord Voldemort has no time for such childish games. Avada Kedavra!"

A soundless explosion rocked the room as the wand activated. The recently-appeared twins took the main force of the diluted curse, and were blasted backward to crumple against the wall. A cry of horror went up from the Death Eaters as Severus Snape vanished, and Albus Dumbledore, accompanied by two dozen armed fighters, appeared in their midst.

The first twin felt the magic go out of the room, and suddenly he was alone again inside his head, with only one thought remaining: I must get to him.

He sprinted across the hall, elbowing aside Death Eaters too stunned by the realisation that their wands were useless to try and stop him, seeing only the face that mirrored his own, and echoed that dreadful moment a year before when they had almost been separated forever.

"Don't be dead, don't be dead," he pleaded, falling to his knees beside the pale, limp form of his twin.

As he pulled his brother's body into his arms, miraculously his eyes opened, and a smile cleared away the pain that furrowed his brow.

"It's so good to see you again, brother," he whispered.

"Yeah," the first twin grinned. "It really is. Did we do all right?"

"We did," the second agreed, smiling wearily and turning his eyes toward the crowded room. "You don't want to miss this. Watch us win."

Voldemort stared at the wand in his hand, wondering what had just happened. He held it up to the light to examine it more closely, and a scream of rage escaped his thin, pale lips as he realised he had been tricked.

Half a dozen or more crossbows moved in to surround the panicked Death Eaters. They were backed up by as many staff fighters. The Potter boy stood with the sword of Godric Gryffindor in his hand, shouting commands. Another boy and girl, also wielding swords, stood back, watching to see if any Death Eaters would break the circle formed by their comrades.

"Spread out!" shrieked the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. "Don't let them box you in!"

She raised her silver dagger high, eyes darting madly about the room. The blade descended in a slashing arc that opened a bloody gash in the arm of a nearby crossbowman. He cried out, taking an involuntary step backward, and Bellatrix pushed him aside, ducking between the staffs.

"Never fear, my friends," she said with a laugh. "This lot haven't the balls to kill."

"I wouldn't count on that if I were you," a red-haired girl replied coldly.

Voldemort reached for his own blade.

"Keep your hands where I can see them, if you please, Tom."

Voldemort froze. Dumbledore's voice was pleasant, but the sword pointing directly at Voldemort's heart was decidedly unfriendly.

"Are you going to kill me, old man?" he asked.

"I would very much prefer not to," Dumbledore replied. He stepped forward, pushed Voldemort's robes aside, and removed the silver blade from its sheath at the Dark wizard's belt.

Voldemort looked at him coldly. "So what happens now?"

"Now," Dumbledore said calmly, "we wait."

Hermione felt the magic go out of the room.

"Ron!" she cried, rushing forward, nearly colliding with the twins as they ran to their fallen double. The battle did not matter. Only one thing mattered now.

"Hermione!" An expression of relief and joy suffused his pale face as he looked up at her. "You're all right! I went looking for you. I couldn't find you --"

Guilt squirmed in her guts. She fell to her knees before him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his neck.

"I'm sorry!" she said tearfully. "I'm so sorry, Ron. I c-came back and you were gone! I was so scared. It's all my f-fault!"

His arms were around her, his hands stroking her hair. "Hush. Don't talk like that. It was stupid of me, going off and letting myself get caught like that. Not your fault."

She shook her head but could not speak -- could never tell him where she had gone or why. Much better, she told herself, if she put it from her mind and never thought about it again. Ron was what mattered. She took a deep breath and raised her head.

"Ron, are you all right?" she asked. "Did they -- are you -- hurt at all?"

A shadow passed behind his eyes, and his mouth became grim. "I'm all right," he replied with so much conviction that Hermione was sure he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

"What did they --?"

He shook his head. "You don't want to know. And I don't want to talk about it."

Suddenly, he clutched her arm, struggling to rise to his feet. She helped him up, and he staggered toward a door leading off the main hall, dragging her with him.

"Ron, what --?"

He turned to her, a feverish look in his eye. "Malfoy! He's here. We've got to --"

Her eyes moved through the mass of people fighting, surrendering, bleeding, falling.

"Ron, he's not here. I don't see him."

"No!" he said impatiently, dragging her with him once more. "He's here. And we've got to help him. I promised. Last night, I told him --"

"But he's one of them, Ron!" she cried.

The shadow flickered again behind his eyes. "Not anymore, he's not."

She was about to ask him what he meant by that, when a low growl came from behind them. Hermione whirled to find yellow eyes staring into her own.

"No! Don't!" Ron's voice was unusually high and panicked as he clung to her.

"Little wolf-toys try to run," taunted Greyback. "Don't you want to play anymore?"

"Hold them!" Harry bellowed to his troops. "Hold your formation. Don't break for any reason. If they try anything -- anything -- you will shoot them. Am I understood?"

"Loud and clear, Harry," said Colin Creevey, leveling his own crossbow at a large, blond Death Eater.

"You don't have to kill them," Harry continued, "but you're a hell of a lot better armed than they are, and I can guarantee that those crossbow bolts are going to hurt no matter where they go in."

Ginny glanced sideways at Harry, grinning, but the smile vanished almost at once.

"Harry, look out!" she shrieked.

Harry wheeled around, bringing his sword to bear on the Death Eater who had been creeping up behind him, knife in hand -- one of the few who had followed Bellatrix Lestrange's advice, breaking away from his hemmed-in fellows.

"Rabastan Lestrange," Harry said evenly.

"Harry Potter," he replied, smiling almost pleasantly. "You have your mother's eyes."

"So I've heard." The point of the sword was inches from Lestrange's throat. "I doubt she would have wanted me to kill you, though, so why don't you go back over there with your friends, so I don't have to?"

Lestrange laughed softly. "Are you going to stick me with that thing, little boy? I stuck something in your mother once. But you didn't know that, did you, Potter?"

Harry stared at Lestrange, feeling like he might throw up. "That's a lie," he said. "You Death Eaters are all liars. My mum never would have touched you!"

"That's all you know, Potter." The smile still hung on Lestrange's lips, ugly and mocking. "Soft and sweet she was, too. A pretty, red-haired little thing. Like that one." He inclined his head toward Ginny whose crossbow was trained on him. "I made her scream. She --"

"Stop!"

Harry's hand was shaking. He knew in some small, rational part of his mind that he should not let himself be distracted by Lestrange's taunts, but all the rest of him cried out for the man's blood. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face, and make him beg for his life -- beg his forgiveness for telling such vile lies against the memory of his mother -- and then he wanted to slide Gryffindor's sword into his guts and let the darkness have him.

And that was how Lestrange managed to dodge swiftly to one side and turn to bring the edge of his knife to Harry's throat.

"Like mother like son," he whispered in Harry's ear. "Now I get to stick something in you, Potter. Will you scream for me, too, I wonder? Will you --"

He broke off with a cry as a crossbow bolt sprouted from his hand. The knife clattered to the floor. Lestrange staggered sideways, and then rushed at Ginny and her empty crossbow with a snarl of rage. Harry raised Gryffindor's sword and leapt forward. He could not -- could not -- let anything happen to Ginny. But before he could reach them, a figure stepped between Harry and Lestrange. Neville Longbottom swung his staff in a high arc that connected with Lestrange's ribs with a satisfying crunch. The big man crumpled to the ground and lay, moaning.

"Are you all right?" asked Neville. His face was pale, and he seemed not to notice the long cut down one cheek which bled profusely.

"I'm fine," said Ginny, reloading her crossbow.

When she was finished, she stood on tiptoes to kiss Neville's bloody cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Harry?" Neville asked, turning to him.

"I'm fine, too," said Harry, trying to smile.

He tried to shake off Lestrange's words. The Death Eater had lied, he was sure, and yet -- there was so much about his parents that he did not know, and could never know.

"Harry." Neville gripped his arm. "I -- we need you, Harry. Are you still here?"

Harry shook himself. "Yeah. Thanks, Neville. I owe you."

Neville smiled. "I'll remind you of that sometime."

"Stop. Right. There." Remus's voice was calm and deadly.

Greyback looked up into the barrel of the gun, one long-nailed hand still wrapped around Hermione's throat, the other at her waist, holding her. Ron lay bleeding on the floor.

"You would shoot me, Remus Lupin?" asked the werewolf, sounding almost amused. "But you're one of mine. We should be on the same side."

"Should we?" Remus said coldly. "Because there's a little boy you left bleeding on a beach in 1966 who really doesn't think so."

Greyback barked with laughter. "The young ones always taste so sweet. Like this one." He ran his tongue up Hermione's neck. "Sweet, juicy girl. She smells so good. Do you want a taste, Remus?"

A tremor ran down Remus's throat as he swallowed, but he kept the gun level, steadying it with both hands.

"Let her go, Greyback."

"It's always there, isn't it, Remus?" Greyback's eyes held the other man's, taunting. "The hunger. You can fight it. You can deny it. But it never goes away entirely. The beast is always there, waiting."

"It is," Remus said softly. "I have to fight it every day of my life. You did that to me. But I fight because I am still a man. And so are you, Greyback. It's not too late. I know the things you've done. You're not weak. You're strong enough to fight this thing; not let it rule you. Let the girl go. Prove to the Death Eaters and the Ministry and the whole Wizarding world that a werewolf is more than just a beast. Stand with us and fight."

"Stand and fight, eh?" said Greyback thoughtfully. "For what? A life of being shunned and scorned? Laws that declare you to be less than other wizards? Why should I fight for that when the Dark Lord has been so good to me? He gives me children. Soft-skinned girls and boys to play with. I don't fight my own nature; I glory in it. This gift of strength and power makes us more than them -- makes us better. We can give that gift to your friends, you and I. This girl is strong. She will make fine breeding stock."

"Your final warning, Greyback. Let her go."

Greyback sneered at him with scorn. "You're a disgrace to our kind. I should have killed you instead of changing you."

He lowered his teeth to Hermione's throat. The girl whimpered, eyes wide and staring into Remus's own, pleading with him.

He squeezed the trigger.

Greyback did not even have time to cry out as the silver bullet caught him in the side of the head. Blood spattered over Hermione's neck and shoulder as he fell, pulling her down with him, to reveal Narcissa Malfoy standing behind him, blade in hand.

Remus stared at her. "What --?"

"He was mine!" she shrieked. "I should have struck the blow, not you, werewolf!" She spat the word at him. "My son --"

"Draco's in the cellar," Ron said weakly, crawling to help disentangle Hermione from Greyback's clutches. "I saw him, Mrs Malfoy. We were going to help him."

He looked up at Narcissa. "He's safe now. Greyback's dead."

Narcissa looked at him coldly. "I don't know what you mean, Weasley."

She turned and walked away. Remus let her go, moving to kneel beside Ron.

"Don't touch his blood," he warned. "You're wounded. It could easily infect you."

"But, Hermione --" He gestured helplessly.

"I'm all right, Ron," she said weakly, sitting up. "But Remus is right. You shouldn't touch me until I get cleaned up."

"The hell with that!" Ron pulled off his shirt and began wiping the blood off Hermione's neck. "There." He pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly. "No one's ever going to stop me touching you again. Got that?"

"Got it." A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Hermione's mouth.

Remus turned away, an echoing smile on his own lips. They're going to be fine.

Two of the Death Eaters had managed to arm themselves with swords from somewhere. That was just fine with Ernie, because it meant that he got to watch Luna at work.

Her expression when she fought the enemy was more focussed and more determined than when she faced him, he thought, but she was no less graceful. Her feet danced lightly over the stone floor, and the steel was alive in her hand. Armed these Death Eaters might be, but they had clearly had nowhere near the training in swordplay that the two of them had.

As her body moved in the patterns he had helped to teach her, Ernie's heart swelled with pride, admiration, and affection. He was reminded once more of how it had felt to awake that morning beside her. Even knowing what this day would hold, he had felt no fear; only anticipation and joy. He would live because, at the end of today, there would be Luna and the possibility of something wonderful.

Suddenly, his sword was wrenched from his hand. He cursed himself. His opponent was a clumsy, awkward youth, and Ernie had let himself get cocky, and allowed his attention to drift to the graceful movements of the blonde girl by his side. Cold heavy steel swung toward him, deadly even in clumsy hands.

"Ernest!" Luna cried.

She pirouetted to meet the sword aimed for him, and brought her blade up sharply. The blades came together with a ringing sound as Luna twisted hers to slide up alongside her opponent's. A second twist, and his sword went flying from his hand. He fell to his knees, the point of Luna's blade hovering directly over his heart.

"You should be more careful, Ernest," Luna said, taking some rope from her pocket to bind the hands of the defeated swordsman. "I would have been very upset if this boy had harmed you."

Ernie looked around to discover that the second Death Eater had made a run for it, rather than continue to press his luck against the two of them.

"Sorry, Luna. I'll take better care in future," he said. "It's a good thing I had you here to look out for me."

Luna smiled at him. "Yes, it is good, isn't it?"

Ernie could not help himself. He kissed her.

Peter was trying to sneak out the door when he heard the sound of the gun cocking. Not having been raised on Muggle movies and television shows, it was not a sound which he immediately recognised, but somewhere in his subconscious, he still knew it for a threat. He froze.

"Not this time, Wormtail," Remus said. "This time you're going to face justice for what you've done. All of it. James, Lily, Sirius, Harry, me. You wrecked our lives, Wormtail. Now it's time for you to face the consequences."

Slowly, Peter turned to face his former friend. "That's a gun, isn't it, Remus? You wouldn't really shoot me, would you?"

"Why not?" Remus said softly. "I've already shot Greyback."

"Y-you did?" Shock and fear gripped his heart.

"I did. Right in the face. And I will by God shoot you, too, if you try to get away. You do believe me, don't you, Wormtail?"

Peter swallowed and nodded slowly.

"Good. Now, put your hands on your head -- slowly -- and get down on the floor."

Peter was just moving to obey when, out of nowhere, a dark-haired woman grabbed Remus's wrist.

"Run, Peter!" she shrieked.

"What the hell?" said Remus, grappling for control of the gun as the woman tried to wrest it from his grasp. "Let go, woman! You don't know what you're doing!"

"Maddy!" cried Peter. "Be careful!"

None of them saw how it happened, but the roaring report as the gun went off shocked them all into stillness.

And then slowly, gracefully, Madeleine Yaxley fell backward. Peter caught her in his arms and lowered her gently to the floor, where he sat, cradling the dying woman in his arms.

"You shot her!" he cried, staring at Remus in disbelief. "Oh my God, Remus, you shot her!"

Remus stood over them, numb, the smoking gun still in his hand. He had not meant to do it, truly. Greyback was one thing -- a monster who had embraced and reveled in the darkness in his nature -- but Madeleine Yaxley was only human. Did she deserve death? Remus did not even know what crimes she might have committed. He stared down at the two embracing Death Eaters, who seemed to have completely forgotten he was there, and he felt empty, numb, desolate --

And then he felt burning pain as something white-hot slid between his ribs. The world swam before his eyes, and he heard a laugh. It was a laugh he knew -- a laugh he had last heard two years before, as Sirius had disappeared behind the Veil. Slowly, as if in a dream, he turned around. Bellatrix Lestrange stood behind him, blood dripping red down the silver blade of her knife, staining her fingers. His knees trembled, and he sat down suddenly on the floor, staring up at her, bemused.

She waved the blade in his face. "Silver!" she crowed. "Silver for the werewolf! Give my precious cousin a kiss from me when you see him."

Her laughter echoed and rang in his head as the burning sensation shot tendrils of fire through his guts. She was just going to stand there and laugh while the silver poisoned his blood. Those mad eyes would be the last thing he ever --

With an unintelligible war cry, Neville Longbottom brought his staff down on Bellatrix's head, effectively shutting her up. She crumpled to the floor before Remus, bloody knife dropping from her limp fingers.

"My parents send their regards," Neville told her unconscious form. He turned to Remus, round face full of concern. "You're bleeding, Professor. Are you all right?"

"Pretty sure I'm not," he mumbled, and blacked out.

Harry charged across the room to where Dumbledore was holding Voldemort at sword point.

"He's mine, Professor!" Harry declared, leveling Gryffindor's sword at the Dark wizard's throat. "'Either must die at the hand of the other,' right?"

"Remember what I told you about prophecy, Harry?" Dumbledore warned. "Not all prophecies come true. But if people believe in them, and act as if they were true, they often fulfill themselves. That is the true power of prophecy. We find ourselves at this juncture because Tom Riddle believed in a prophecy he was told nearly twenty years ago, and because he chose to act on that information. Now it is your turn to choose, Harry. Not because of the prophecy, but because you are here and Tom is here and something must be done. You have earned the right to face him."

Harry nodded once, curtly, not taking his eyes from Voldemort's face.

"Do you yield, Tom Riddle?" he asked coldly.

"I do not answer to that name," Voldemort replied. "And I do not believe you would kill me if you could, Harry Potter. Nothing so crude as a sword can kill Lord Voldemort. Not even one so finely wrought."

"We could find out," Harry said quietly, green eyes locked on Voldemort's red ones. The whole room fell silent, looking on.

Then there was a rushing sound, and a cry of exultation went up from Dumbledore's Army.

"Moody! Kingsley! The Aurors are here!"

They had flown their brooms straight into the building, dismounting in the middle of the hall, wands drawn. Harry looked down to see Kingsley Shacklebolt's dark hand on his arm, then raised his eyes to meet Voldemort's one last time.

"We're done now," he said loudly so that the whole hall could hear him. "Enjoy your eternal life in Azkaban, Riddle. Take him, Kingsley."

It was easy after that. Though it had seemed to go on forever, the battle had lasted mere minutes. The Aurors, their magic intact, rounded up Voldemort and the Death Eaters, securing them for transport to Azkaban.

Peter Pettigrew still clung to Madeleine Yaxley's body.

"She was going to say 'yes'," he told his captors numbly as they bound his hands. "She was. I know it."

Arthur, looking stunned, brought in Narcissa Malfoy.

"She killed him," he said in disbelief. "Lucius. Right in front of me. We were fighting. I had him. And she just --"

Narcissa looked no less dazed than her captor. "He said he could always get another wife -- another son. He took my first one, sold my second. Now we're even." She stared, unseeing, at Alastor Moody as he checked the ropes that bound her wrists. "I guess the life-bond is just words after all."

Luna and Ernie were snogging joyfully in the middle of the room, seemingly oblivious to anything else, but not every member of the winning side was celebrating so exuberantly. Ron, pale and tightlipped, stood with his arms wrapped tight around Hermione, who looked desolate, and watched as their best friend knelt beside the bloodstained form of Remus Lupin.

Remus opened his eyes. "James?" he whispered hoarsely.

An unfathomable expression crossed Harry's face. He took Remus's hand in his own and squeezed it. "I'm here," he said, voice cracked with emotion.

A smile touched Remus's lips. "You missed it," he said. "I think we won."

"Yeah," Harry replied, blinking back tears. "Yeah, you did great, Remus."

Remus coughed weakly. "Wh-where's Sirius?" he asked. "Where's Lily?"

Harry looked up helplessly at his friends, unsure what to do. But then Ginny came to kneel across from him.

"I'm here, Remus," she said, taking the man's other hand.

With a great sob, Nymphadora Tonks went to take Remus's head in her lap, shifting her features: gray eyes, dark hair, straight nose, square jaw.

"I'm here, too, Moony," she said, voice rough with unshed tears. "It's all right. Rest now. Everything's going to be all right."

Remus closed his eyes, smiling.

"Looks like we win," the first twin said to the second, still held tight in the circle of his arms.

He looked down. His twin -- his other self -- was smiling, but his eyes were empty, and his body was still.

"I thought so," he said softly, closing the other's eyes. "But that's all right. We always knew it would end here."

When he looked up again, his father was standing over him, Moody beside him, a hand gripping his shoulder.

Arthur swallowed, staring at the still form. "Is he -- are you --I mean, he's you, isn't he? And he's --"

"Gone. Yeah, Dad. He's gone."

He laid his twin gently on the ground and rose to face his father. With a sob, Arthur gathered his son into his arms, crushing him into a hug. He let his father hold him for a long moment before stepping away.

"Thank you, Dad," he said.

He moved through the room, pausing to thank each person who had fought for him, with words or a handshake or a hug. His friends, his siblings, the Aurors, Dumbledore. He gave them each as much time as he could, stopping to lay a hand on Remus's unconscious brow before moving on. Last of all, he stood before Alastor Moody.

"I trust you kept them safe for me?"

Moody reached into a deep pocket and drew out the Time-Turner and the false wand, handing them to the young red-haired man with a grim look.

"Thank you," said the last Weasley twin.

"Don't do it."

He turned to see his father standing with his siblings, a pleading expression on his face.

"It's done, Dad," he said gently. "If I don't, the paradox it would create might be the death of us all." It sounded so melodramatic that he almost laughed, for all it was true.

"It's done," he said again, loudly enough that the whole room fell silent to hear him. "And you know what?" he added with a grin. "It was worth it."

His eyes found his father's once more, grin fading to a fond smile. "Give Mum our love."

He held his breath and turned the Time-Turner.

The Power of Two © 2007 Skjaere