It all came down to Halloween Night, 1998.

The students of Hogwarts had been trapped in the dungeons for months on end, while the deatheaters and Voldemort had created a lair of sorts out of the rest of the school during the Hogwarts Seige.

After months of planning, Harry and Dumbledore both snuck past the wards that protected the innermost layers of the school (the latter polyjuiced into Draco Malfoy), and went to destroy the final horcrux.

For the month or two before they had left, the DA had been started up again and was trained hard by the various order members also trapped in the school. Before they left, Dumbledore gave McGonagall a mirror connected to another one in his possession. When the horcrux was destroyed, he sent her the following message:

It is time. Be ready at 5:00p.m. on Halloween and await my notice.

Shortly before five on Halloween, a large shudder ran through the school. Then again. And again. Just as when the deatheaters had shattered the outer wards to the school on the day of the siege, so was someone shattering the deatheater’s wards.

Under the stress the mighty school groaned and creaked, chunks of brick falling from towers amidst shrieks from paintings.

And inside the school, Voldemort’s face darkened. “Dumbledore.” Since ‘Draco Malfoy’ had gone missing, the dark lord knew it could be no one else but. Many deatheaters had been tortured and killed for their idiocy, but it did nothing to soothe the dark lord’s ragged nerves.

Indeed it was Dumbledore. Single handed, with power that even hoards of aurors and ministry officials couldn’t have tapped to take down the wards, he was one by one shattering each of the deatheater’s wards. Under his magic, the wards imploded on themselves and echoed outward much like rings caused by a pebble in a pond, as the magic dissipated.

Down in the dungeons the students stood at the doors that had protected them from the deatheaters for the last few months. Wands were pulled out and ready, faces were set. Everyone there was voluntary, headed by the members of Dumbledore’s army. The youngest years and those who wished to stay out of harms way were in the rear of the swarm of students.

Of most prominence in the lead were the Gryffindors. Neville Longbottom, back straight, wand ready – no one could doubt that he was the son of Frank Longbottom, auror. Dean Thomas, his expression ready to embark on a fight that would far surpass any football game, but one that he would bring all his competitive energy too. Seamus Finnigan who was ready to unleash some of that infamous Irish temper on the deatheaters. Parvati Patil, the most beautiful girl in the year, whose eyes burned with determination for the want to restore the wizarding world to its own beauty. Lavender Brown, whose giggles had subsided long ago and were instead replaced with a firm mouth- she might not have got won-won, but she sure would make sure this battle was won. Ginny Weasley, her fiery red hair nothing compared to the fiery bravery she held in her heart. The Creevey brothers, who were childish no longer and were ready to make their hero proud. And of course, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley – whose faces were set, wands pulled, back straight and their eyes like old souls. There was no fear on their faces – only grim determination – that even surpassed the look on Hermione’s face when cramming for finals. This was their boy out there. And no matter if they had had differences with Harry in the past – if one thing was certain, it was that Gryffindors are always there for each other.

As the last ward fell, Voldemort screamed at his followers, “WARD the DOOR NOW!” The deatheaters turned to ward the large door leading to the school, but a pulse of purple magic shot through from the outside (Courtesy of Dumbledore again), and they found their wands couldn’t work.

They gasped and grunted in shock, but had only a second to dwell, because at that moment the doors leading to the dungeons slammed open and out poured the students with a loud roar.

Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, Slytherins – all in one accord – houses meant nothing anymore. This was bigger than that. It was them against us now. And Us had no house barriers.

With a loud, agonizing scream of fury, Voldemort’s lips pulled back from his lips in fury. Bright flashes of colors shot everywhere as the students ganged up on the deatheaters in perfect form. The pulse of magic that had prevented the deatheaters from doing magic had unfortunately been only fleeting, and soon blasts of green made their way into the rainbow of magics being done.

“Watch out, Pansy!”

“Get him, Neville!”

“Great shot, Luna!”

The students were a great team.

Voldemort was the one from which most of the killing curses were arising, furiously he shot blindly into the crowd.

Bellatrix Lestrange, about to crucio a student, turned barely a second before a misguided shot of green from the master she loved got her right in the chest. “Master?” The words were barely out of her mouth before she fell to the ground, stone cold.

As Voldemort’s face twisted in something akin to horror over what he had done, the doors to the school slammed open.

Into the school poured sunlight – which the students hadn’t seen in months. And in the middle of the sunlight was a shadow.

It was Harry. But it was not the laughing, clumsy, sometimes awkward Harry that the students often saw. No. It was a jaw set, hair wild, green eyes blazing: Boy who lived.

The hall fell silent – deatheaters being tied up and beaten unconscious by the students – even Voldemort was silent for a moment.

“Ah. Harry. Poetic justice is this? Attempting to take me on the night I killed your parents? I’m sorry to say that you’ll simply be joining them.”

Dumbledore, looking tired and weary for his work appeared behind Harry silently, but moved not one inch to protect the boy.

Harry merely smiled.

It was often said that when Dumbledore was truly in a rage, it was unbelievably scary even when he spoke in a calm voice. There was something about his tone, something about his eyes, and something about his smile.

But Harry? In battle? Downright terrifying.

It was clear now of the power that the orphan had in his grasp. The strength, the magic, the power to save them all.

“This ends now, Tom.” He said.

Voldemort’s face contorted in fury and whipping out his wand a bolt of eerie green raced toward Harry at the same time that the boy also had pulled his wand out – and a bolt of red raced toward Voldemort.

As had happened the night that Voldemort was resurrected during the third task, the magic from both wands met – but this time a blast of gold began at the meeting point and grew larger and larger and larger.

“What is this!?” Voldemort shrieked. But it was too late.

The gold magic soon enveloped the both of them and then, like an explosion burst – sending all the other students in the entrance hall careening into walls.

When the magic disappeared, everyone’s eyes shot up the center of the room.

Harry was the only one left standing.

(The above was written by _prettyparvati for use of Veritas the RPG only. No stealing >:|, of course characters belong to Jo Rowling etc etc)