Birds of a Feather (Stick Together)

The barrier shattered with a sound like breaking glass, fragments of light dissipating into the cold air. Voldemort wasted no time, his wand snapping upward as he hissed a curse. Harry barely had time to throw up a shield, the force of the impact staggering him backward.

The duel began in a storm of magic.

Spells collided in bursts of light and sound, the air between them crackling with power. Harry didn't fight like the scared boy Voldemort must remember; he was a soldier now, every movement precise, every spell deliberate.

"Crucio!" Voldemort hissed, the curse hurtling toward Harry with deadly speed.

"Protego!" Harry's shield absorbed the spell, but the force of it sent him skidding back. He retaliated with a cutting curse, forcing Voldemort to step aside, his robes billowing like smoke.

"You've just been a pawn. A sacrifice. They raised you like a lamb to slaughter, after all" Voldemort sneered, circling him like a predator.

"Expulso!"

The explosive spell hurtled toward Voldemort, but he spun away with inhuman grace, his robes billowing like smoke. The ground where he had stood shattered, chunks of stone flying into the air as made a tight arc with his wand. A jagged stream of fire roared toward Harry, twisting like a serpent.

Harry countered with a wave of his wand, conjuring a torrent of water that met the fire in mid-air. Steam erupted between them, obscuring their view for a moment, but Harry didn't hesitate. He flicked his wand again, sending a blast of raw magic through the cloud.

Each step Harry took was calculated, each movement driven by purpose. He could feel the weight of the Elder Wand in his hand, its power thrumming in time with his heartbeat.

"Crucio!" Voldemort once again hissed, the curse tearing through the air.

Harry dodged, rolling to the side as the ground where he'd stood exploded in shards of rock. He retaliated with a slicing hex, the arc of magic cutting through the space between them and narrowly missing Voldemort's shoulder.

"You're nothing without them, Potter!" Voldemort snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "Without Dumbledore. Without your friends. You're just a scared little boy playing hero!"

Harry's jaw clenched. He didn't let the words distract him, even as they cut deep. "You're wrong," he said, his voice low. "I'm not playing."

He thrust his wand forward, and a blast of golden light surged toward Voldemort. The spell struck the ground at his feet, creating a fissure that sent him stumbling, but he recovered quickly, his movements sharp and deliberate. He raised his wand high, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "Let's see how long will you last, boy."

The sky darkened as Voldemort unleashed a torrent of magic, tendrils of shadow writhing and twisting toward Harry like living creatures. They clawed at him, tearing through his shield and forcing him back.

Harry gritted his teeth, his wand moving in tight, precise motions. He summoned a ring of fire around himself; the flames consuming the shadowy tendrils before they could reach him. The heat licked at his skin, but he pushed through it, his focus unbroken.

Voldemort sneered, his wand slashing downward. "Expelliarmus!"

The spell caught Harry off guard, tearing the wand from his grasp and sending it spinning across the courtyard. Voldemort's smile widened, triumphant.

But Harry didn't stop.

With a burst of raw magic, he extended his hand, and the Elder Wand snapped back into his palm as though it had been waiting for him. Voldemort's expression faltered for a moment—just a flicker of doubt—but Harry saw it.

"You'll never understand, will you?" Harry said, his voice ringing with conviction. "You'll never win, because you don't fight for anyone but yourself."

Voldemort's fury erupted, his wand blazing with green light. "Avada Kedavra!"

The Killing Curse streaked toward Harry. He saw it in slow motion as it approached and one part of him wanted to let it hit him. He shrugged that part off him. Instead, he stepped forward, his wand raised and tranfigurating the floor to block the spell for him. The Elder Wand thrummed in his hand, its power surging through him as he returned the spell with another of his own.

Another spell came, this time faster than the others. Harry used his years as a seeker to catch it with the tip of his wand, absorbing the curse and reflecting it back toward Voldemort. The Dark Lord was so surprised, he barely had time to deflect it before Harry struck again.

"Diffindo!"

The cutting curse sliced across Voldemort's chest, drawing a line of blood. He stumbled, his wand faltering for just a moment—but it was enough.

Harry surged forward, his magic blazing with a ferocity he'd never felt before. He thrust the Elder Wand forward, and a beam of golden lightning struck Voldemort square in the chest.

The force of it sent Voldemort sprawling as he flicked his wand in a sharp arc that was stopped by a blast of raw magic that hit the ground beneath the monster's feet, shattering the stone and sending him stumbling.

The fury in Voldemort's eyes as he sent the sickly green of the Avada Kedavra spell at him, made Harry dive to the side, the curse missing him by inches. The air between them crackled with power. Spells zipped past Harry's head, stray jets of light from the larger battle raging around him. But at this moment, there was only Voldemort.

The Dark Lord stood in the ruins of the castle's courtyard, his once-imposing figure now a shadow of its former self. His crimson eyes burned with fury, but Harry could see the cracks in his facade—the slight twitch in his wand hand, the way his breath came quicker than before. Voldemort was weaker than he had ever been, and it enraged him.

"You think you've won something, Potter?" Voldemort sneered, his voice a grating hiss that echoed through the night. "Look around you. Look at the destruction! This is your doing."

Harry didn't answer. He couldn't waste the energy. His body ached from dueling, his robes torn and bloodstained. But his grip on his wand was steady. His magic burned in his veins, stronger than it had ever been.

"I'm not the one who turned this place into a war zone," Harry said finally, his voice low and steady. He stepped forward, his wand raised. "We will win."

Voldemort's lipless mouth twisted into a snarl. "Foolish boy! Do you think you can defeat me? I am eternal—death itself bends to my will!"

"You're a fragment of a soul clinging to power you don't deserve," Harry shot back, his voice cold. "And I'm done letting you destroy everything I love."

Voldemort shrieked, his fury igniting like a firestorm. With a flick of his wand, he unleashed a torrent of curses. Harry darted sideways, summoning another shimmering Protego that deflected the crucio on the rubble behind him. He retaliated with a whip-like jet of blue fire, forcing Voldemort to leap backward, his robes singed.

"You've gotten better," Voldemort spat, circling Harry like a predator. "But it won't save you."

Harry's eyes were locked on his enemy, unblinking. "No, but it'll save them."

With a roar, Voldemort lunged, a volley of spells erupting from his wand. Harry parried, moving with precision and purpose. He conjured shields, struck with hexes, and forced Voldemort back step by step. The Elder Wand thrummed in his hand, an extension of his will.

A sharp Diffindo slashed across Voldemort's chest, drawing blood. The Dark Lord faltered, his wand trembling for a fraction of a second.

"You bleed like anyone else," Harry said, his voice grim. "You die like anyone else."

"Never!" Voldemort screamed, his composure slipping. He fired a Blasting Curse that shattered the ground at Harry's feet, sending him stumbling.

Harry didn't hesitate. He rolled to his feet and slashed his wand downward. "Sectumsempra!"

The spell caught Voldemort's side, cutting deep. Blood spilled onto the shattered stones, and Voldemort staggered, his breathing ragged. His red eyes darted around the battlefield, as though searching for an escape, but there was none.

Harry closed the distance between them, ignoring the pain lancing through his body from other dark curses.

This was it.

He could feel the Elder Wand thrumming in his hand, a pulse of power that matched the beating of his heart. The memories of his friends, his mentors, everyone he'd lost burned in his mind.

"For them," he whispered at the same time Voldemort rasped a "This isn't over."

Harry raised the Elder Wand. "Yes, it is. For both."

With a last surge of magic, Voldemort's body crumpled, his head falling a couple meters away, crimson eyes dimming as his life was snuffed out.

The courtyard was silent. The echoes of the battle faded, leaving only the sound of Harry's ragged breathing. Voldemort's head lay still at his feet, his once-feared form reduced to nothing more than a lifeless shell.

Harry stood there, his wand trembling in his hand. He wanted to feel relief, to feel triumph—but all he felt was exhaustion.

Voldemort's body lay still at his feet, lifeless and empty. The dark cloud that had hung over Hogwarts for so long seemed to lift, the air growing lighter, the stars above finally visible through the smoke.

But the relief was fleeting.

It wasn't over. Not yet.

Around him, the battle continued. The Death Eaters were faltering, some throwing down their wands and fleeing, others fighting with the desperation of cornered animals.