“Ssso, Sseverus, The Brat Who Lived is now The Brat Who Died, and his blood and your own will be used to resurrect me. Let’s see just how much of your blood I can relieve you of before you finally die. Where shall we start? What shall we remove first? An eye? That beak of yours? Perhaps a portion of the anatomy most wizards are rather fond of?” He snapped his fingers, and two Death Eaters hurried forward and dragged Snape to his feet. The Potion Master barely noticed; he was still incoherent with grief.

Lucius lay crumpled on the ground, with several Death Eaters gathered around him, gleefully hexing him as he writhed and screamed.

Voldemort/Bellatrix moved down from the throne, wand swinging lazily in his grasp. He frowned for a moment, finally realizing that Snape was too devastated to appreciate his own imminent demise, let alone react to Voldemort's threats. This would never do - half the fun (not to mention the deterrent value for the other Death Eaters) was for Severus to be fully aware of and dread every moment of the agony he was about to impose. He looked over at Lucius with gratification. Now that was what a real torture session was supposed to be. “Let’s see, how shall I get your attention?” he mused aloud, tapping one finger against his lips.

Behind him, Harry got to his feet. His head hurt, and he was in a really, really bad mood. Voldesnort had made his da cry, and those stupid Death Eaters were hurting Draco’s father. Harry had had enough.

The two Death Eaters holding Snape’s arms watched disbelievingly as Harry rose behind the Dark Lord. They exchanged wide eyed stares behind their masks, and each one abruptly began to question their allegiance and career goals, as there before them was the irrefutable proof that once again Harry Potter had – as a mere child – survived the worst the Dark Lord could throw at him. Furthermore, both realized that their current activity, restraining the guardian of The Boy Who Still Lived, was unlikely to be regarded in a favorable light by the only known survivor of not one, but two, Avada Kedavras.

As the grip on his arms slackened, Snape blinked, unable to believe his eyes. He stared, completely oblivious to the mad wizard pacing in front of him as he struggled to grasp the notion that his son had - again - survived the unsurvivable.

“Leave my da alone!” Harry yelled, sending a nasty cutting hex at Voldemort.

The Dark Lord spun, astounded to find Harry alive and well, and despite Bellatrix’s phenomenal reflexes, surprise delayed him enough that he was unable to dodge or block in time. Voldemore shrieked in pain as Harry’s hex sliced his face open, destroying one red eye.

The massed Death Eaters, initially dumbfounded by Harry’s recovery, were now further horrified by this proof of their Master’s vulnerability. As one, they took a step backwards. If Potter could do that to the Dark Lord, what could he do to them? The fact that they were dealing with a lone 12 year old didn’t really register – they were all too busy gawking at the sight of a bleeding Voldemort and a breathing Potter.

Even Snape was frozen, still staring at The Boy Who Really Should Be Dead By Now. His brain seemed stuck on the whole "He's alive? How can he possibly be alive?" idea, though his heart had apparently made the unilateral decision to ignore the how and why and released a flood of transcendental joy that was surging through his form. "Harry," he breathed.

Before Voldemort or any of his minions could quite recover from the shock of Harry’s attack, a loud series of popping noises broke the stillness of the night, and a group of house elves, accompanied by Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Bones, Moody, and three Weasleys, appeared en masse just outside the Death Eaters’ circle.

With one shouted spell and a massive surge of magic, Dumbledore broke through the wards and almost simultaneously grabbed Remus' shoulder, staggering as he did so. The next instant, a re-energized Dumbledore was back on his feet, his blue eyes blazing, while a fully transformed werewolf roared with hunger at his side. Then Remus leapt for the nearest Death Eater, and pandemonium ensued.

Voldemort frantically spun around, trying to sort out friend from foe, even as he was simultaneously hit by an Avada Kedavra, Diffindo, Entrail Exploding curse, and at least five other deadly spells from Harry and everyone else. Shield charms, and even Bellatrix LeStrange’s great skill as a duelist, proved of limited use when attacked at once from multiple sides by numerous, lethal assaults. The Dark Lord – all of his horcruxes destroyed – fell to the ground and did not rise again.

Dobby, delirious with joy at finding his Master Potion Master Sir still alive, hurtled into the tall man’s knees, hugging him with all his strength. Since a house elf’s strength is considerable and Snape’s ankles were still bound, Dobby’s well-intentioned greeting caused Snape to fall over backwards. As he tumbled to the ground, he saw Dolohov’s AK pass harmlessly overhead, and his brain realized this would be a very good time to start working again. He shouted at the little house elf. “Wand, Dobby! My wand!”

“Oooh, yes, Master Potion Master Sir!” In a flash, Snape was unbound, his wand in his hand, and he was viciously returning the hexes and curses that came flying at him.

Molly dodged in and used a well-placed Protego to save Lucius from Alecto Carrrow’s vicious Sectumsempra – thereby creating a Life Debt between the Malfoys and Weasleys – while Filius dealt with Amycus. Molly then hit Alecto with a modified bat-bogey hex that distracted the squat witch long enough for Molly’s bone crushing curse to catch her in the neck.

“Nice shot, partner!” Filius crowed, leaping over Amycus’ bloody form.

Molly grimaced in annoyance. “I was aiming for her wand arm,” she admitted, stepping past the witch’s body. “I’m a bit out of practice.”

“You’ll get plenty of chances,” Flitwick warned, and then they were into the next group of Death Eaters.

Meanwhile, the instant they caught sight of an alive and well Harry, Bill and Charlie had grabbed him and stuck him between them, much to the 12 year old’s annoyance. Hadn’t he been the one to draw first blood on old Voldesnort?

Unfortunately for Harry, the Weasley brothers were unimpressed with his past accomplishments, and an attempt to wiggle out from behind their sheltering bulk resulted in two very hard smacks on his rear – one from each. Harry immediately realized why Ron preferred to be punished by Professor Snape than by his brothers, and he hurriedly abandoned further attempts to escape. Instead, he rather grumpily made do with shooting the odd curse from between the redheads whenever he got the chance.

One of the Death Eaters used Serpentsoria against them, and Harry calmly ordered the snake to go away. To his surprise, the snake didn’t respond, and Charlie had to blast it before it got close enough to bite. “Harry, snakes don’t usually respond to voice commands,” the big dragon handler called over his shoulder, rather exasperated at what he saw as the boy's foolish behavior.

Harry blinked in confusion, then belatedly remembered what his mum had said. His parseltongue was from the horcrux. It was gone, and so was the ability to speak to serpents. Harry felt a bit of a pang. He had rather liked his Speaker status.

But then he shrugged and sent a Conjunctivitis Curse at a Death Eater who was targeting Bill. There was still plenty of magic left for him, and he’d rather have the Dark Loon out of his head, no matter what the cost.

Fenrir Greyback was among the Death Eaters, fighting in his human form. He still retained his werewolf strength, however, and he grabbed Amelia Bones while the Minister was fighting off three others. He grabbed her chin in preparation to snapping her neck, but then he froze, hearing a low, rolling growl behind him. He cautiously turned his head to look over his shoulder and had just enough time to recognize Remus before the werewolf was upon him, tearing his throat out.

Sirius, now fighting as a wizard, went down under a Crucio. Even through his agony, he saw McGonagall’s cat form leap onto another Death Eater who was readying an AK for him. She shredded through the man’s robes and mask, and his screams distracted the one using the Cruciatus on Sirius, breaking the spell. Sirius managed to get to his knees just as the Death Eater flung Minerva off.

She gracefully converted the fall to a roll and came out of it already in her human form. She snapped out “Castrato Explosivo!” just as the other Death Eater hit her from behind with a bone blasting curse.

Sirius dispatched her assailant and rushed to Minerva’s side, where he was relieved to see that the curse had caught her in the lower leg, not the spine. She was in great pain, but the injury was not life threatening. Then Sirius turned to the first Death Eater, wanting to ensure that the wizard was no longer a threat.

When he had finished sicking up, Sirius turned a pained look onto Minerva. “That’s just evil,” he managed to gasp.

Despite her pain, she smirked at him. “Let that be a lesson to you, Mr Black. Always be a gentleman when dealing with witches.”

Sirius shuddered and turned to look for the next threat, but to his mingled relief and disappointment, Shacklebolt and a detachment of Aurors had already arrived, and the remaining Death Eaters were either trying to flee or cowering in a fetal position.

-##-

The mopping up operation was over relatively quickly. On the side of the Light, Mad Eye Moody was dead – mortally wounded by Rabastan LeStrange even as he uttered his own killing curse. There were other injuries as well: Bones’ arm had been nearly severed; McGonagall’s leg was badly damaged; Bill Weasley had been knocked down by a blasting curse while protecting his brothers, and he was concussed and temporarily deafened; Flitwick suffered some nasty burns while dealing with a transfigured salamander, and Lucius had been in bad shape from prolonged torture even before the battle began. Sirius and Molly each had some ugly cuts and bruises, but those were the worst of their injuries. The house elves, despite having been very firmly instructed ahead of time not to stay and fight, had of course done so. They had all escaped harm in the dim light, being so low to the ground, and while it was unclear how much actual damage they had done to the Death Eaters, their high pitched shrieks of fury had served to unnerve the already demoralized foe.

On the Dark side, Voldemort was dead – finally, definitively, and permanently – as were all of the LeStranges, Dolohov, Greyback, and Alecto Carrow. Amycus had lost a lot of blood but might survive long enough to be Kissed, and at least a dozen of the other Death Eaters were either seriously wounded or dying.

Remus, his wolf unleashed by all the violence, began eating the Death Eater dead, deaf to the cries of the Aurors who were trying to preserve the crime scene. Finally, one Stunned him just as he started to gnaw on Bellatrix/Voldemort. “I know, I know – Shack told us he was on our side,” the pink-haired young Auror trainee defended herself when Sirius remonstrated with her, “but he was destroying evidence. Besides,” she pointed out, “just think what diseases he might catch from this lot. I mean, blech! Do you want to think about what Cousin Bella has been up to?”

Dumbledore and Shacklebolt apparated to St Mungo with the badly wounded, and Charlie, only slightly singed from helping Filius dispatch the salamander, volunteered to take the unconscious Remus to his dragon preserve in Romania. “He’ll be safe there until we figure out if he can change back to human,” Charlie pointed out. “Even if he tries, his teeth won’t make much of a dent in dragonhide, and any human stupid enough to be wandering around a dragon preserve deserves to get eaten by a werewolf.”

Sirius sadly agreed, patting his good friend’s pelt while Charlie made the necessary arrangements. “You’ll send me daily updates? As soon as I find some experts, I’ll send them out to help.”

Charlie grinned and nodded. “And send plenty of Wolfsbane too, just in case.”

Harry had a headache, and his behind still smarted a bit from the Weasley wallops, but he was otherwise fine after the battle – until Snape grabbed him. Then he began to worry that his ribs might be cracked from all the hugging. “Harry, Harry.” Snape couldn’t believe it. He’d seen the AK hit with his own eyes, and yet here was Harry, hale and healthy. “Are you all right?” he demanded when he could speak again.

“I’m fine, Da. Honest,” Harry promised, but no sooner were the words out of his mouth, than Molly seized him, and then Sirius and so on and so on until Harry was certain he was going to need Skele-Grow for his battered ribs. He couldn’t help the big grin on his face though – if he had ever needed proof that people cared about him, he had it. Ha! Take that, Uncle Vernon, you big fat walrus. Shows how much YOU know.

A pop augured Dumbledore’s return, along with a battered-looking but mostly-healed Malfoy. “I’m pleased to report that Madame Bones, Bill Weasley, and Professor McGonagall will be fine within a few days. And now, shall we leave this site to Auror Shacklebolt’s team and return to Hogwarts?”

Now that the wards around the graveyard were down, it was no trouble for them to apparate to Hogwarts. They made it about twenty yards onto the grounds before being surrounded by a group of trigger-happy centaurs who refused to believe they weren’t Polyjuiced Death Eaters. It wasn't until Hagrid arrived to vouch for them and escort them into the castle that the centaurs reluctantly admitted they might be who they claimed.

Harry, his shoulder still firmly grasped by his da, was then treated to more rib-creaking hugs from Uncle Arthur, Professor Sprout, and his friends. The house elves provided plenty of cocoa and snacks while each side filled in the other. Draco was there, sitting next to his father who looked worse than the boy had ever seen him and yet was more openly demonstrative than Draco had ever experienced. Lucius had actually greeted his son with a fierce embrace, and Draco was trying to figure out what had happened to his father and whether the pleasant change might actually last. All five of the younger Weasleys were there, hanging off Molly, and nearly incoherent with pride that their mum had played such an important role in defeating You-Know-Who. Davidella Jones was sitting with them, flattered to be included, but increasingly respectful of her boyfriend’s mother.

“Oh, Harry, are you really all right?” Hermione asked, as Neville listened eagerly for details.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Harry promised. “What about you guys? What happened here?”

“It was exciting, Harry! Almost as soon as you and Professor Snape disappeared, the students were all ordered into their towers, just like when that troll was loose,” Hermione explained. “Then Hagrid and the professors started patrolling the halls, and they let some of us help – mostly because they figured we’d sneak out if they didn’t,” she admitted. “Draco and Ron went with Hagrid, and Hagrid got his friends in the Forest to help.”

“Yeah, we met the centaurs!” Harry exclaimed, shuddering at the memory.

“Oh, you’re lucky then,” Hermione assured him. “Hagrid managed to get the Acromantulas patrolling too.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “No!”

“Yes! Ron met them. He managed not to scream, and Hagrid said they really liked his red hair. I don’t think Ron’s going to be willing to go anywhere near the Forest again, though,” she giggled. “Neville helped Professor Sprout make all the defensive flora around the castle grow, and I patrolled with Jones.”

“Wow, Hermione. Weren’t you scared? I mean, what if a Death Eater had broken in or something?”

She waved a careless hand. “I wasn’t worried at all. Jones taught me that spell she nearly used on the Ravenclaw last year, and I was just waiting for a Death Eater to try to sneak by us.”

Harry, remembering the spell, turned rather pale. “Uh, that’s not a very nice spell, you know.”

Hermione gave him a rather evil smile. “Why, Harry, Jones says that’s just one of several witch-only spells that we get taught here.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “Is that what they teach in those girls-only classes?”

His friend laughed. “Of course. What do you boys think we’re learning about? Magical tampons? Anti-cramp charms?”

Harry – the boy who had faced down the Dark Lord – looked ready to melt from embarrassment at this mention of “Girl Problems”, and Hermione took pity on him. Boys were always so easy to fluster. “Meanwhile the twins were busy organizing victory parties to take the other students’ minds off what was happening, so I’d guess that the four Common Rooms are going to look pretty awful by tomorrow.

“Now,” she fixed Harry with a compelling stare, “what happened to you?”

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Dumbedore’s voice cut through the excited chatter, and everyone quieted. “Yes, I can confirm that Voldemort is truly defeated once and for all. He is dead in body and soul.”

A loud cheer swept through the Great Hall, and after the ensuing hugging, Harry ended up on Snape’s lap. For once, he didn’t really mind sitting there, even as a much-too-old twelve year old, and he noticed that even Draco was scooched next to his father, with Lucius’ arm around him, and the Weasleys were shoving each other for their turn to sit on or next to their mum and dad.

“Just because Volauvent’s dead, you’re not going to stop being my da, right?” Harry asked anxiously.

“Of course not,” Snape said sharply. “Foolish child. You saw the adoption papers. Did you notice a termination clause labeled ‘until the demise of the Dark Lord’?”

Harry grinned. “No. Guess you’re stuck with me.”

Snape huffed, but he squeezed Harry tighter even as he did so.

Molly leaned over and patted Harry’s hand. “Remember, Harry dear, you’ll always be a part of our family as well. Both you and Professor Snape.”

Harry beamed at her. “Thank you, Auntie Molly.” Then, as a thought struck him, he blurted, “My mum says thank you for remembering the jumper, Auntie Molly.”

That stopped conversation cold all around the room, and Dumbledore – with many a twinkle – suggested that it had been a long night and perhaps it was time to try to get some rest. Soon only Snape, Sirius, and the Weasley parents remained in the Great Hall, all watching Harry expectantly.

“Well?” Snape said, trying not to let his concern show. Harry had actually communed with his dead parents? What might James have said to the boy about his disgust with Snape acting in loco parentis? And what if Lily were still angry with Snape over his “mudblood” remark?

Harry did his best to remember all that he could of his conversation with his parents. “Ummmm, they’re happy, and they’re in a nice place, and they send their love to Padfoot and Moony and Da… And they said thank you to Auntie Molly for the jumper…” Molly smiled through her tears. “And, erm, they said that they’re watchin’ over me and – oh!” Harry turned to Snape, “My dad was real cross that I didn't listen to you back in our quarters, and he whacked me for it, really hard, so you don’t need to punish me again. Okay, Da?” Harry was reassured by Snape’s automatic nod, but in truth, Snape was in such shock at the notion that James Potter had supported him that he would have agreed to nearly anything. “Uh, and Mum says she’ll always love you ‘cause you were her first and best friend,” Harry tried to get the mushy bits out as quickly as he could, “but she wants you to be happy and to find a nice witch and settle down.”

Snape was deeply touched by Lily’s concern and the last of his worries that she still resented his disastrous insult evaporated. It warmed him to know that she wanted him to be happy and wouldn’t feel betrayed if he were to find love elsewhere. But then he caught sight of the assessing look that Molly Weasley was giving him, and his pleasant feelings were abruptly replaced by cold apprehension.

-##-

A huge party at Hogwarts was held the next weekend, and everyone who had participated in the battle – even Lucius – received a medal. Professor McGonagall and Madame Bones were released from St Mungo’s into Poppy’s care so that they could participate despite their ongoing recuperation.

After the ceremony, Harry stood on the front steps of the castle, watching the spectacular fireworks over the lake with Snape and idly playing with the medal that hung around his neck.

After a few moments, concerned by the boy’s silence, Snape looked down at him worriedly. It was hard for anyone to appreciate all the trauma the boy had been through recently – kidnapped, killed, confronted by his dead parents, returned to the living, caught up in a pitched battle… “Are you all right? Are you missing your parents?” he asked, forcing his voice to remain steady.

Harry smiled up at him. “I’m okay. They’re here with us, y’know. And I’m with you, just like I wanted.”

Snape cleared his throat. The cool air must be giving him a cold. “Sentimental Gryffindor,” he scolded, putting an arm around his son and holding him close as they watched the sky erupt in a blaze of multi-colored glory.

THE END

(well, except for the Epilogue)