It All Ends

Fire. Humans on fire. Screams. The midnight sky was spoiled by the Death Mark. Dementors fed
on souls. Giants trampled on allies and foes alike. Spells and curses flashed across the heavens
like a terrifying exhibition of fireworks.

It was madness. It was the night of the final battle of Hogwarts.

Smoke and dust covered the sun and the sky completely. The once-majestic north tower was
framed against the sky, a shadow of fire licking the sky from one of its windows.

The muggleborn rushed through the darkened hallways, her wand on a holster hidden up in her
right arm, a journal and quill in her left hand. The atmosphere was grim; terror was temporarily
held in bay by the deceitful calm imparted by the eerie silence within the school.

Echoes of You-Know-Whos ultimatum still rang in everyones minds.

I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want
to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical
blood. Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave
the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight.

Sheer terror and repulsion tormented her very being upon hearing His voice. But she was
determined to go through this battle, whether or not it would ultimately lead to her own death.

Cool air wafted from the open windows, blowing harshly against her exposed skin. Her robes
were torn, ripped by a wayward curse earlier in the night. The castle was holding up against the
continued attacks, but cracks were showing in its faade. The howling wind swept along the
halls as if the walls were weeping for the pain of its losses. Shards of glass littered the stony
floor. The rushing student navigated through the hallways, displaying her mastery of its nooks
and crannies.

She was of average height, brown skin, lithe body, and strikingly large dark eyes. The feeling of
foreboding racked her body, but she remained calm as she turned the corner towards the Great
Hall. Her dark brown hair was tied in a braid behind her head, her hands were clammy with
sweat. She was alone in the Ravenclaw Common Room when the alarm started, so she carried
nothing else but herself and her prized journal.

Maine, watch your step! called Professor Flitwick when she rushed past him. He was levitating
a body (or was it a corpse?) in the same direction as to where she was heading. Please keep
calm as you proceed to the hall!
Maine slowed her pace, her trepidation racing ahead of her. The battles peak within the walls
was imminent; the castle was barely holding up.

She briefly wondered where the Grey Lady was, and had hoped that she was able to talk to the
ghost for what may be their last time. It was an odd friendship that developed in her first year,
when she had no one but herself to talk to. Being the only muggleborn in a big family of seven,
she was naturally curious in everything magical-- not to mention, ghosts. Ellen, as Maine fondly
calls her, was a highly intellectual and taciturn ghost who was also insecure in nature. They had
shared many lonely nights together just exchanging stories, or simply listening to the Bloody
Barons playing of the violin at the West Tower. She had learned much of the wizarding world
from Ellen, and sometimes the latter would even help her with school work. It was also during
her evenings with Ellen when Maine learned that she was quite good at casting nonverbal
spells. It was nonverbal spells that had saved her life many times tonight.

When Maine entered the Great Hall, it was the Grey Lady whom her eyes first sought for.
Students milled around the room, their faces painted with various versions of terror,
determination, shock, and panic. Bobbing around the students are house elves clustered in
groups and shaking in their pillow-case clothes. Ghosts floated restlessly around with faces as
grim as their deaths.

The house tables were gone, and in its place, were rows upon rows of body bags. It was
shocking to find so many lined up side by side, but this was not the time for grief. This was not
the time for acceptance. She must move determinedly forward for there was nothing else to
look back to. nothing else left to return to.

Maine moved urgently towards the survivors, her eyes roaming around the tense hall. She
scanned the ceiling for Ellen but to no avail. Maine knew that her effort was futile. Her attention
was already somewhere else as soon as she stepped into the room.

Him.

She furtively looked around, feigning as if she was still searching for the Grey Lady. She fought
down a bubble of panic rising in her throat as each second passes. but she was desperate to
find his familiar face, his bedimpled smile that never fails to electrify her nerves and sends her
toes curling in an instant.

There.

She realized that she was holding her breath all along. Her relief felt like a punch in the gut
when she finally saw him standing amongst his peers at the corner of the room. Someone was
speaking to him and he was listening intently. Maine observed him from afar, noting the shadow
of grief that lurked behind his eyes but vanished as immediate as it appeared. Agitation rolled
from him in waves and Maine worried that he might burst with reserved energy.

Her gaze on him stayed for a couple more seconds before she realized that she was staring. You
dumbass, this isnt the right time for this, Maine berated herself.

She started to look away just when he looked up suddenly, as if he sensed that he was being
watched. He met her eyes for a split-second. She was breathless for what seemed an eternity. A
cold gust of air brushed her shoulder, then she shuddered and tore her gaze away from his eyes.

She looked over her shoulder just in time to see Ellen drifting away from her. There was a ghost
(yes, that is a pun) of a smile on her willowy face. Exhaling, Maine struggled not to look back at
the direction of the person she was just locking gazes with, and concentrated on the Head Boy
in front of her. It was easy to do so; there was so much death and terror in the room that it was
almost effortless to get her mind back on the battle.

It was enough that he was fine. He was air, and she was human. As long as he exists, no matter
whether or not he knows that shes there she will be fine. She will live.

---

Alden knew he was being watched. She looked away at the instant that he looked at her, but he
caught her gaze at him nonetheless. Her stare was unnerving, but in a thrilling and pleasant kind
of way.

He always caught her watching him, and he also wondered why she looks away. He catches her
stares just as her eyes light up, but the moment passes in a sec and the spark fizzles out. At first,
he had thought that she liked Cedric, who was a dear friend of Aldens before the Triwizard
Tournament.

But Alden wasnt exactly dense. When he was finally sure that Maine fancied him and not
Cedric, he still did nothing. He had no time for these nonsense since he was too focused on his
studies. His N.E.W.T.S. was due to be taken soon and he had to get top marks. His family wasnt
exactly well-off, so they were relying on him to do well in school. He had to be sure that he can
get a well-paying job once he graduates.

There was no time for this. There was only work ahead of him.

But that didnt mean that Alden wasnt also curious. Although it was seldom that they crossed
paths in classes (him being a Hufflepuff, and her a Ravenclaw), they always seemed to bump
into each other in the corridors. Usually this always ends up in intense blushing (on her part)
and murmured apologies (on his).

There was also this one incident which he believed to be the catalyst in his interest in her.

I didnt know you were a fan of the Weasleys Wizard Wheezes Alden had said, his eyebrow
raised in amusement while handing her the pile of Skiving Snackboxes and Dungbombs that
spilt from her bag after one nasty collision in an empty hallway.

Maine blushed furiously and rushed to grab her things from him. Who the hell crashes into
another person in a perfectly spacious corridor, anyway?

In her haste, she accidentally pulled the pin from one of the Dungbombs, and it exploded right
before their faces. A putrid odor wafted to their noses and threatened to suffocate them both.

Alden coughed in surprise which became difficult to stop and led him to almost choking. The
vapor from the dungbomb clouded up the whole hallway, and both doubled up coughing
brutally. Struggling to control her choking, Maine (nonverbally) conjured them both bubble
heads to be able to breath. Now it seemed that they each both had their heads in a fishbowl.
When the air cleared, they saw each other. The first thing that Alden saw was Maine, laughing,
her eyes lit up in mirth, her cheeks pink from the effort.

He thought her laugh was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

Now what started as curiosity turned out as a fascination for him.

He later learned that she was also muggleborn like him, brilliant in Charms, and extraordinarily
skilled in nonverbal spells (the best in the school, in fact). While he was forthcoming, she was
aloof. He was overly expressive; she was an introvert. While he was confident of himself, she
was doubtful.

He was the sun, and she was the moon. He prospers in daybreak; she thrives in dusk. When he
finally gathered his wits and guts to approach his dusk, the battle came to Hogwarts.

---

She was on the run.

Billowing black smoke blew from her behind and seeped under the castles doors. Her warm
breath mingled with smoke and cold air as she rushed outside to escape the pursuing fire.
There was a commotion at her 3oclock. Then suddenly, a burst of green light.

She spun around, feeling a brush of wind on her cheek. The Death Eater chasing after her roared
in delight. Her wand flew forward, spinning away from her body. Her journal slipped between
her fingers and sailed from her grasp into the night.

She fought down vomit as she felt her nerves cackle in fright. Her pulse was ringing through her
ears.

Maine! yelled someone to her left.

She turned to the direction of his voice, a whisper of name in her lips.

Den..

Darkness loomed, then she saw no more.

---

Alden was running.

Curses and hexes flew past him as he gave chase to the fleeing wizard in dark robes who moved
like an animal. He couldnt mistake those matted gray hair and whiskers from anywhere. Fenrir
Greyback, the most savage werewolf alive under You-Know-Whos rule.

Aldens surrounding was a blur as he followed the werewolf across the lawn. He dodged the
curse casted at his direction by Greyback.

COWARD!

The werewolf laughed at him as he ran from him, his blood pulsing through his ears.

Reducto! A red flash of light exploded from Aldens wand. Greyback dodged a hairs breadth
away and the spell hit a nearby tree. There was a deafening blast, and Alden instinctively
stepped to his left while running. A yelp came from his right as someone else was hit with
Greybacks spell and thrown back a couple of yards from where they stood.

COME BACK, WOLF! Alden roared through the night, his wand slashing the air in front of him,
casting spells that he fervently wished to reach Greyback. He saw Maine fall in the werewolfs
hands, and instead of going to her, he gave chase to the werewolf. He cannot stand to go to her
yet, he would break and he would lose it. There would be no going back to the battle once he
finally gets the chance to hold her, clutch her close, kiss her mindlessly. He would never get to
her attacker. There would never be a chance to gut the werewolf and kill him for what he did.

It was rage acting through him, and it was rage that he succumbed to.

Wait for me, Maine. Just wait.

He chased Fenrir across the school grounds, dodging curses, and into the Forbidden Forest.

Maine laid unconscious and as still as death in front of the castles doors.

---

Alden stopped short before an ancient-looking tree with a trunk as wide as three people. He
wanted to continue running but his instincts stopped him in his tracks and made him look over
the grounds by the east side of the tree. With eyes still livid with madness, he stopped and
looked over the sight at the clearing.

It was Harry Potter.

Alden frowned, confusion overriding his rage. He isnt supposed to be here, he wondered.

Harry Potter wasnt exactly a friend, but Alden considers him as an ally. No matter what He-
Who-Must-Not-Be-Nameds threats were, Alden knew that it was not right to give up one life to
sacrifice the lives of many. There has got to be another way. Not another death. Not another
sacrifice.

Alden looked back at Harry, and something stopped at him from approaching the boy.

The Boy-Who-Lived stood just right there in the middle of the clearing, murmuring. There was
something clutched tight in his right hand.

Curiosity bloomed within Alden anything else. He was caught off guard more of this strange
sight than anything else, and thus he stilled himself to watch the boy. He held his rage at bay, a
steady thrum drumming in his chest. There was something that he couldnt pinpoint that made
pull at him to observe Harry.

He watched as Harry reached out his hand, a look of wonder behind his bespectacled eyes.

Why are you here? All of you? Harry whispered.

Alden thought he misheard the boy. But Harry continued, as if he was speaking speaking to
someone only visible to him.
Does it-does it hurt? Dying? Harrys voice drifted to Aldens ears. He felt a chill run down his
spine as realization slowly dawned upon him

I'm sorry. I never wanted any of you to die for me The silent plea in Harrys voice rattled
Alden as he watched from the dark.

Alden felt shaking, and thought for a moment that it was the ground responding to a giants
movements, only to realize that it was he who was trembling. Seconds passed, and Harry
walked ahead, deeper into the forest. A tiny object fell from Harrys fingers.

Alden would never be able to remember how he found himself stepping out from the trees
shadow; one step over another, the forest as still as death around him, his left hand pressed
against his chest, just right over his heart. All he could remember afterwards was the horror as
he realized that he had remained behind the clearing for too long, letting Fenrir escape, and his
rage at himself that he could not still, for the life of him, force himself to give chase to the
werewolf. There was something pulling him in, pulling his attention to the ground where he
something was dropped from Harrys fist.

He looked down and saw the Stone. He dropped to his knees, picked it up. He stood. It was
instinct that told him to turn it over in his hand thrice, and to look ahead. Immediately, he saw
his mother.

My Tisoy

Alden mimicked Harry moments before, and reached out his right hand. His left fist with the
Stone inside, was pressed against his chest, feeling the wild throbbing of his heart.

It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

His cheeks felt like ice as hot tears ran down his cheek. It was his mothers lullaby to him, when
he was still a kid, repeatedly sang to him when he injures himself, when hes lonely, when hes
distraught. It was his most cherished memory of his mother, and he relished it. Seconds,
minutes, an eternity passed. The hair on his spine stood, and he knew there was someone else
who joined them.

He felt her approach even before he saw her. At that moment, Alden never knew grief can ever
feel as terrifying as fear itself.

She was as beautiful in death as she was in life.

He broke down on his knees, muttering, Im sorry Im sorry. Im sorry. He chanted it as if it

was a spell, as if it would change everything in the last few hours of his life. He chanted it as if
his life tethered on it, like there was no other thing for him to do but to plead for her
forgiveness. He felt he was bleeding, but here were no wounds to heal. There were only holes.
Emptiness. A void.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry, Maine.

The forest was silent. And he was alone.

---

End.

Prompt by @ninnabautista: MaiChard AU + Battle of Hogwarts