Hello everyone, hope all are having a nice start to the week.

This is it. The culmination of something I never ever imagined writing. I still cannot believe this was inspired by what I thought was a silly and fun one shot story. I have never written so much in such a short period of time.

Thank you for sharing this journey with me. Thank you for all the kind words, the comments, the feedback. Thank you for all your encouragement, it meant more than you know. This marks the first time I have finished a fanfic. I'm proud of it.

The end of the story will be in the comments. It got a little too long too all fit here.

Have a wonderful day!

***

A Dance of Dementors

Chapter 5: Seventh Year, To the Very End

Harry felt he was always on the edge these days.

He figured he could be forgiven for it, a lot has happened lately. In a few weeks’ time he had lost Dumbledore, been betrayed by someone that he thought was on his side, decided to not return to the first place he felt at home, accepted a dangerous mission to destroy the horcruxes so they could have a chance at beating Voldemort, and barely survived the latest attempt on his life.

While he survived another died for him, because of him. A close friend was maimed because of him, for him.

All in all, it had been quite stressful.

After days of cleaning and organizing for a wedding, trying to sneak in moments of planning with Hermione and Ron, doing his best to placate a stressed and suspicious Mrs Weasley, he felt like he was studying for his O.W.L.s again. His body was a constant ache of stress, fatigue, and extreme pressure.

He almost wished it was just studying for tests again. Even something as normal as a wedding felt incredibly odd given what else was going on. He would not begrudge Mrs Weasley, Bill, or Fleur their need for it however. In extreme times, people grasped for normalcy. It was nice to celebrate love and union despite the environment of uncertainty.

He just wished he could really immerse himself in the feeling. He wanted to feel wholly excited for them. He wanted to forget his troubles for just a little while.

His many, many troubles.

For a moment he thought he could avoid them, but that thought was dashed to pieces when Hermione approached him. He ignored his first reaction to try and avoid her, to cite some sudden errand or to say he was not feeling well.

His behavior during fifth year came screaming back to him and he firmly dispelled that first reaction.

“Hi,” he said, trying to muster up a smile. It was more of an exhausted grimace.

She looked like she felt the same. “Hi Harry,” she replied, handing him a leather-bound book and a piece of folded parchment.

“What’s this?” He accepted the book and parchment. It looked and felt very old. The edges were frayed, almost decaying. The binding was loose. A cord held the book shut, looking newer than the book did. It had a feeling of neglect to it, a feeling of something that was hidden away for a very long time. It radiated shame. The parchment was much newer, a small thing folded in half.

“Before we left Hogwarts, I was able to summon a few books from Dumbledore’s office as you know. This was buried among them. I remembered thinking it was odd at the time because it didn’t look related to the books I…borrowed. I just thought about this book and tried to open it but I couldn’t. When I did the string glowed and a note appeared.”

Intrigued, he opened the note. As he read his eyes grew wet. Without a word he handed the note back to Hermione.

“Harry, I found this right before I discovered the location of the cave. It had been hidden deep in the personal Chief Warlock records under considerable charms. I hope to go over this with you when we have the time. In the case that cannot come to be, I wanted to make this available to you.

“I hope this will help you and the people you want to help. Normally I would be in considerable trouble by sharing this outside of the Wizengamot. That being said, I feel that your quest is a noble one and you deserve the aid.

“I trust you Harry.

“Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore.”

Hermione’s voice had broken while she read the note out loud, her voice shaky and trembling. Tears ran down her face but she did not stop reading.

He reached out and took her hand in his. They sat together in silence, staring at the note and the book.

“It must have been one of the last things he did for you,” she whispered. “Before you two left for the horcrux.”

“The fake horcrux,” Harry said bitterly. He tried not to think about the false object sitting in his bag upstairs. The thing they sacrificed so much to get. The thing that cost them so much.

Hermione squeezed his hand. “Are you going to open the book?”

Harry thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Not right now. I have a feeling it’s going to make for terrible reading.”

-0-

He had no idea how right he was.

It was a few weeks later when Harry found the energy to open the book. Energy was not quite the right word. Motivation for distraction would be more correct.

The wedding had happened right after the pair discovered Dumbledore’s last note. It was beautiful and for a brief moment, Harry felt peace. They felt hope. That life could happen despite the current state of affairs.

Then Kingsley Shacklebolt’s lynx Patronus appeared. He warned them that the Ministry had fallen. Voldemort had killed Rufus Scrimgeour. His forces were coming. Coming to get Harry.

He had wanted to stay and fight of course. Guests fled in a panic while Death Eaters had invaded. Members of the Order fought back. Lupin had forced Harry away with Ron and Hermione.

The trio had almost been caught before they could Apparate away. A Death Eater had almost grabbed Harry’s arm.

A ghostly figure with a lined face had suddenly appeared. He had tackled the Death Eater, long skeletal hands dragged the figure away. How the Dementor had appeared so swiftly Harry did not know but he was immensely thankful.

The trio had found their way to Grimmauld Place, once headquarters for the Order, now Harry’s property. It was even more depressing than they remembered it to be. When it was actively used, when Sirius lived there, it had pockets of life among the cobwebs of neglect. Places where the shadows did not look so menacing, where the dark was not so oppressive.

After being there for a week, after Kreacher the house elf’s miraculous change in behavior, Grimmauld Place was slowly living down its namesake, being less grim.

So of course Harry decided now would be the perfect time to read what he assumed would be a thoroughly depressing book.

He was going mad with inaction. The three had come up with a plan. They knew Delores Umbridge, may her name be forever cursed, had taken the true horcrux. Regulus Black, Sirius’ brother, had been a Death Eater but had stolen Slytherin’s locket, a horcrux Voldemort had made. He had Kreacher bring it back to destroy it.

Unfortunately before Kreacher could, Mundungus Fletcher had stolen it to sell. To avoid prison and punishment, he had given it to Umbridge.

For the last few days the trio had started their plan to infiltrate the Ministry. The watched and observed. They discussed potential ways to do things, back up plans, reactions to possible actions. It was a tedious, long, slow, and necessary process.

Harry had gotten tired of staring at maps. He was tired of planning.

That was how he found himself sitting in Sirius’ room staring at the book. That feeling of shame had never gone away. If anything, the feeling was amplified every time he thought about it. It had been hidden away, never to be seen nor found by anyone that was not the Chief Warlock. It felt like it was a terrible secret that someone had desperately tried to hide forever.

With a heavy heart, Harry undid the cord holding the cover shut and began to read.

-0-

He sat and waited, rubbing his hand together to stave away the chill.

He knew it was not the chill of the night air getting to him. After spending many nights outside, after spending so much time in a Dementor’s Aura, regular cold temperature did not bother him as much as it used to.

The chill was from the book, the Hidden Ledger.

Somehow, it made him feel worse than any part of Dancers in the Dark.

It was not a very long book. It took him barely any time at all to finish it. However its contents had made him stew over it for hours. He had thought for more than a day how to process the information, how to make sense of it.

Now he sat in the tiny garden behind Grimmauld Place and he waited. Part of him wanted to never mention this information to anyone. The other part of him knew at least one person if not everyone needed to know it all.

He pulled on the connection inside his chest. This was the first time he actively did that. Usually he felt it being pulled or manipulated by the one he was connected to. He had learned how to pour his feelings into the connection. Now he was trying to tug on it, to summon the one on the other end.

Finally he felt her. Her Aura was faint, incredibly light like a feather on snow. He would have missed it if he was not so familiar with it.

“Ryllis?” He tried to keep his voice quiet, barely more than a whisper.

“Harry, thank goodness you are well.”

Though he could not see her, he could just feel her presence. It surprised him how much he missed her, how much he wanted to feel her ice-cold touch. He wanted to look into her flat obsidian eyes. He wanted to see her smile.

“I’m alright. Are you okay? I can’t see you?”

“I have to diminish my presence to come here. It is not safe to come to you. The Wasted One, he has become suspicious. He is questioning why some of the Dementors do exactly as he commanded and why some are hesitant.”

His heart throbbed with worry. “Are you in danger? Are the others?”

“No, not yet. We have been able to hide among the Primals, to throw off most attention. We must be cautious though, to wait for when we can do the most. If we are caught, we cannot help you anymore.”

“That makes sense.” He felt a kernel of disappointment simmer inside. He knew he really wanted to see Ryllis. He underestimated just how much he wanted to, how much he needed to.

“I…have to tell you something, Ryllis. It’s not going to be easy to hear it though.”

He felt her presence wrap around him, envelop him. It was not quite a hug, but it was close.

“Dumbledore left me a book. Something called the Hidden Ledger. It was buried deep within the Chief Warlock’s personal archives. It’s…not good.”

He told her that it was an account of Families that had been completely lost, of magical bloodlines that had could not be continued. It listed the names of the last known members of the families and even detailed how the people have died or the reasoning why the families were no longer around.

There was one section that had stood out to Harry. At first they did not seem to share anything in common. The people detailed were all different ages, and came from different periods of time. Some were members of prestigious families, some were not.

He finally realized why they were grouped together. They all shared the same cause of death. They all had said: sanctioned via ritual by the Ministry for crime broken. The writer had notated the crime that the individual had caused. However, the crimes listed seemed oddly unreasonable, nothing that he would consider punishable with a ritual.

Then it clicked. A ritual. The people were punished by a ritual. The Ledger made no mention of what kind of ritual. Just like how the ritual in Dancers in the Dark was not explicitly described.

He read the names of the individuals again and when he understood what he was reading, he had vomited everything he had eaten in days.

The longer he talked, the more exhausted he became. The more he told her, the stronger that feeling of disgust grew. He had long past cared that he was crying, he no longer tried to stem the rain.

Her Aura had shaken as he spoke, it seemed to change like the tide. It turned from cloying clinging warmth, to frigid fright, to wild outrage, to palpable grief.

The connection between them felt small and thread-bare.

He did not know how long they sat there without speaking after he finished. He knew she was in pain. He wanted nothing more than to embrace her, to support her as she did for him in times past. He pushed as much of his love and care into their connection as he could. He waited.

“So, it is true then. We were made, made by the Ministry. We were created because of our crimes.”

“I don’t buy that though,” Harry said. “There is nothing in those crimes that could possibly deserve being turned into a Dementor.”

“Did the Ledger say what our crimes were?”

“Yes and no. It said what law was broken but not what the law was. Grimmauld Place has a library and they have old law books. I’m going to search them and get to the bottom of this.”

“Harry, take care of yourself first. You are more important. Do not waste your energy on…criminals.”

“You’re not a criminal,” he said firmly. “Even if you were, there are limits to punishments. The punishment should fit the crime and once you have served the time, you should be released. That’s how it should work.

“Besides, this ritual is monstrous. It was still forced on you. That’s why you have troubles with your memories. You were shattered against your consent, against your intention. You can’t even remember your full name. It’s not fair.”

“No, it is not, but perhaps it was just.”

He hated how defeated she sounded. He hated how she felt that the situation was appropriate.

He hated it because he knew he had felt that way in the past. He knew he sounded that way before.

He would not let her feel the same. Not after all she had suffered. Not after all she had done for him.

“I’m not saying it was. I’m saying now, it’s long overdue. I will free you Ryllis. I will free all the Ritual Dementors.”

“Harry, there are more important things to worry about.”

“No. There are equally important things to worry about. I will not abandon you. Don’t tell me to, I won’t.”

She cried softly. Her Aura enveloped him.

“How? How can you care so much after all you have had done to you? How can you be so kind after all you have lost?”

He imagined he was holding her hand. “That’s easy. I followed your example.”

-0-

“Harry! Come on, we can't stop!”

Harry ignored Ron. He went running down the corridor.

“Why is he running towards the ruddy Dementors?” Ron cried. “Dammit, Harry!”

“Belle!” Harry yelled. “What are you doing?”

The trio had infiltrated the Ministry according to some semblance of a plan. Despite the odds, they had managed to sneak in undetected and taken the horcrux back. In doing so they had revealed themselves and were currently running out of the courtrooms with a horde of Dementors following them.

Harry had been about to summon his Patronus when a howling Dementor had flown past the trio, slamming against their pursuers. It struck them bodily, splitting the wave of dark creatures buying them time to escape.

He almost did escape, grateful for the interference. He knew a Ritual Dementor had come to save them, he could feel how different their Aura was. What made him stop was what he felt in the Aura. He felt something different, something besides the customary supernatural chill a Dementor usually brought. It was a desperation, a sense of intense loss, a lack of self-preservation.

That had made him stop and turn back.

“Belle! Stop!”

The Dementor turned to face Harry. The ragged shreds of dark essence dripped from her skeletal hands. Her eyes were wide and wild, her mouth curled into a feral snarl. “Dawnbringer, you must go. I will hold them off.”

The Primals had fled from the Ritual Dementor, her fury had broken them. Her rage had blunted their Hunger.

“Belle, you don’t feel right. Look, they stopped, you’ve got to go too. Hurry!”

She shook her head. “No, I will stay and ensure they cannot follow you. I will prevent their pursuit. Give you as much time as I can.”

“You’ll die!”

She laughed. It was a cold and manic laugh, one born of intense loss. It was a laugh Harry had heard before. A laugh from someone he loved and had watched die before his eyes.

“Many will die before I do. I give my existence willingly to you, Dawnbringer.”

“NO!”

The walls shook from his shout. Hermione and Ron skidded to a stop behind him, buffeted by the intensity of his magic. Even Belle seemed shaken. His single shouted command quenched her bare anger. It woke something in her.

“Dawnbringer?” she said in a quiet terrified voice. “I…I am here to help you. I give myself for you. It is only just. It is what I deserve. What you deserve.”

Harry was furious. “I said no. You will not throw yourself away for me. None of you will! You tell Ryllis that I forbid you all from dying for or because of me like this until I talk to her again. Do you understand?”

Belle’s face held fear. It was plain that a Dementor did not feel fear often.

Harry hated that he was the reason for it.

She nodded. “I swear. I will tell her.” She looked back down the corridor. “I will scatter them and flee myself. Please, run Dawnbringer. We cannot lose you.” The Dementor flew away, leaving the three behind.

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice shook.

“Let’s go,” Harry said.

-0-

Hermione was shaking in her seat.

She knew it was for many reasons. Camping in the winter, even with a magical tent, meant things were always cold. No matter how big of a fire they have, no matter all the hot water they drank, the air was simply frigid. It permeated their beings, going through all the layers of their clothes.

Their nerves were another reason. On the run from Voldemort and his Death Eaters was necessary and unpleasant. The Charms they cast around the tent every day helped but they always looked over their shoulders. It felt like someone was always watching, waiting for them to make a mistake.

The horcrux was definitely a detriment. It was a foul thing and whenever she touched it, it made her feel even worse. Besides making her feel bad it made her want others to feel bad, to spread misery. Not wearing it did not spare her either. The horcrux made Harry sarcastic and caustic, made him bottle his thoughts and feelings up until they exploded. The horcrux made Ron…

She sniffled. Ron had left them. She knew the horcrux had affected him terribly. It made him think awful things, made him worry so much over his family. It prompted him to say even worse things, to lash out non-stop at her and Harry. It had finally come to a head and Ron had left them, left her.

He wanted her to come with him.

She could not.

Ron’s absence had cast a pall over her and Harry. It made things more bleak, more depressing. Empty.

Finally, if Hermione had to fully list out what was causing her to shiver and shake, if she had to describe everything that was making her feel chilled, it was Ryllis floating inside the tent. That was not completely fair. Hermione would never feel completely comfortable around the Dementor. The Aura had gotten less invasive like Harry said. She had gotten used to it somewhat. She even found Ryllis to be kind, a good person. So Ryllis herself was not why Hermione felt so uncomfortable.

It was more the way Ryllis and Harry were glaring at each other right now.

The tension between them was incredible. She imagined she could see it, coiled tightly. Waiting for something to make it snap.

She wanted to run away from it. To give Harry and Ryllis some privacy. Yet she knew if she did, something even more terrible would happen.

“You do not command me, Dawnbringer!” Ryllis said. Her features were severe, as sharp as a knife.

“Since when do you call me that?” Harry asked. He was hurt at how she threw the title at him, at how distant she was acting. He had pulled on the connection for days, ever since they came to this new place after Ron had left. He called and tugged and pulled, pouring his need to see her into the connection.

She had finally come. She looked very upset at him when she revealed herself.

He felt the same way to be honest.

Her face twisted slightly, a moue of shame fighting its way past her severity. “The Harry I know would not command others, to turn them to his will.”

“And the Ryllis I know wouldn’t tell the others to die because of me.”

“For you.”

“No, because of me.” He let the scene replay in his mind and grew angrier. “She was ready to die because of me. She was going to stay and fight until she was gone, long after we escaped. That isn’t for me. I don’t want people to die because of me.”

“This is war Harry. There will be casualties. You cannot save everyone.”

“How can I save people that don’t want to be saved?!”

Ryllis’ eyes narrowed. “Explain yourself.”

“You told them what I told you. That they were criminals and were being punished by the Ministry.”

“Yes.”

“So they think they deserve to be Dementors then. They deserve to die as Dementors?”

“Yes.”

“No! I looked up the laws it said that they broke. They are absurd! One was punished for speaking out against the Ministry. Another was punished because they did not want to sign into a marriage contract. Most of the crimes are barely crimes!”

Ryllis looked away. Her form shuddered. “We were still punished by the governing authority. Why do we feel like we deserve it if it were not true?”

“I’ll be anything that it’s a part of the ritual they did to you. They broke you! They shattered your soul into pieces and chose a piece to make into a Dementor. They took away your memories, your feelings. They put veils in to separate the pieces and make you something not human. That’s not right!”

Harry fought back a sob. “They took your names, your true names. The names you remember are fragments of your names, like your memories, your souls. Names have power. They took that power from you.”

He knew what he was saying had some truth to it. He had discussed it with Hermione and she agreed. He could see that Ryllis agreed with him, at least in some part since she was not protesting.

He decided to press the point in deeper. “Are you trying to tell me that Leo, who looks and sounds like a child, younger than when you met me, deserves this?” He ignored the looks of horror from Ryllis and Hermione. “History shows that there were plenty of people who did bad things to others because they could get away with it. You might have committed a crime, but was it a real crime?”

He did not fight back his tears. “I promised I would help you. I promised to get to the bottom of things. I want to save all of you. I need to. But for me to save you, you have to want to be saved. You have to think you can be saved. Magic is intent. You have to mean it. You have to really want it.”

“Like you?” Ryllis’ whisper cut to the bone.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, confused.

“I see you. You work yourself to the bone. You sacrifice yourself time and again. You said it yourself. You must save us. What about you?”

“What about me?” He thought he knew what she was getting at. He started to get angry.

“Are you trying to save yourself?”

Hermione bit her lip. It was a question she had desperately wanted to ask for a long time.

“What do you mean.” Harry did not ask the question this time. He said it flatly.

“You throw yourself in without any concern over yourself. You put no care towards your own wellbeing. You are only concerned for others.”

“You think I want this?” He was getting very upset now. “I told you about the prophecy, I am the only one that can do this.”

“I know that!” Ryllis’ fire was relit. “Of course you are the only one that can do this, but have you thought about what will happen if you fall?”

“Others can carry on! If I do enough before then others can finish it.”

“I am pleased to hear you prepare for that possibility.” Her words dripped with scorn. “Have you thought about what you will do after? After you succeed?” Her words turned harsh as she interrupted him. “Of course not! Do not lie to me Harry. I know you have not thought about it at all!”

“There’s no guarantee that I’ll succeed! What’s the point of planning for a future that might not come!” His temper flared and for a moment the tent felt hot.

“And what is the point of planning for victory if you will not benefit from it!” Her voice became a shriek.

“ENOUGH!”

Ryllis and Harry turned, their eyes wide. Hermione had risen from her chair, tears flowed down her face. Her chest heaved.

“Don’t you both see? You’re the same. You care so much about each other that you forget about yourselves. You’re both saying the same things around each other.”

She looked at the Dementor, meeting her eyes fully for the first time. “I read over the Ledger and parts of Dancers. I agree with Harry. What was done to you and the others, it's beyond monstrous. It's beyond cruel. You were subjected to something terrible and the crimes that were listed, they don’t warrant that kind of punishment. Even if you did, you’ve been a Dementor for centuries. For more than lifetimes. You’ve long since paid your debt.

“I want to free you too. Not because you had something heinous done to you, but because of what you have done since you started to remember. You saved Harry’s life, many times. You and the others have saved mine, saved our friends. That’s not something any true criminal would do. You have to believe yourselves worth saving, worth redeeming. If you don’t, then nothing we do will free you. You can’t throw yourselves away for nothing. Dying for Harry isn’t redemption, it's punishment.”

She turned and looked at Harry. “Ryllis is right. You save others at the cost of yourself. You stood up to things you shouldn’t have had to, much less did so alone. You’ve been hurt over and over again. I hear you when you have nightmares. I know when you are pushing your thoughts of yourself away. You think you are being noble but you’re punishing yourself too. You’re punishing yourself because someone else marked you as their equal. That’s not fair either.”

She gulped. “Every time you say you don’t know if you’ll survive, every time you refuse to imagine yourself in the future, I die a little Harry. A part of me dies. Because you do deserve to have a future. Ryllis sees it. I see it. Others see it. If you don’t believe in yourself,” her voice broke completely and she sobbed, “then why are we doing this? If you don’t think you're worth a future, then maybe we’re not worth saving at all either.”

The locket around Harry’s neck burned. It twisted and smoldered, as if touching Harry was painful to itself. He yanked it off his neck and threw it on the table where it writhed, hissing and whimpering.

Ryllis floated to the sobbing girl and wrapped her arms around her. If Hermione was bothered by the Aura, by the Dementor’s touch, she gave no sign of it. She leaned into Ryllis, wailing.

Harry wrapped his arms around both of them and Hermione melted between them. She shook and cried, and slowly her tears stopped when the girl fell asleep. Harry and Ryllis held her for long moments before carrying her to a bed, tucking her in gently.

They held hands, looking down at the sleeping witch. For the first time in weeks Hermione slept peacefully.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered to her. To Ryllis.

“I am as well,” Ryllis replied.

Hermione’s snores filled the air.

“I swear to you Harry. I will not try to sacrifice myself for naught. I will believe myself worthy of redemption. Because it is clear others believe I am deserving of it. I will tell the others. We will not spend our lives so freely.”

“I promise Ryllis that I will believe in myself like you and Hermione believe in me. This has to end because it is right. I will still do whatever it takes, but I will think about what comes after. I’ll aim for an after. I have to. For her. For you. For my Parents and their friends.”

“And for you.”

“And for me.”

-0-

Harry could feel the pulling again.

He looked around at the ghostly King’s Cross Train station. He knew it was fake, not the real place. For one it was a lot cleaner than the real King’s Cross. It was a lot quieter. It was a lot calmer.

Still, it was nice to have spent some time here. No shouting, no screaming. There were no spells being cast, no terrible creatures. No silver masks. No bodies. No dead friends.

No pain.

He and Dumbledore had spoken for some time. Discussing Dumbledore’s past. Discussing how Harry had been the last accidental horcrux. How Voldemort in his haste and arrogance, and supreme ignorance, had eliminated his own horcrux. Voldemort had killed Harry as well as saved his like.

One day Harry would find that funny but it was still too soon.

The young wizard remembered when Ryllis had mentioned feeling something dark on Harry, something different from the scars on his hand caused by the blood quill. Even back then there was the barest of hints.

Thinking of her made the connection pull harder on him.

As if in response to the pulling the scene shifted slightly. Flowers bloomed around them. Flowers of vibrant red and pure white. They smelled sweet, felt familiar.

“Ah, now these are rather lovely,” Dumbledore remarked as he bent down to touch a white flower. “Beautiful.”

“They are.” Harry lifted a red bloom in his hands. He had seen these flowers before, when a veil was lifted. He smiled. “They’re called Amaryllis. I like them very much.”

Dumbledore smiled knowingly. “Another reason to go back then? To enjoy the flowers?”

“Yes, another thing to make right.”

The train began to sound.

“Is this all real?” Harry asked as he began to fade. “Or is it all just happening inside my head.”

Dumbledore smiled one last time. “Of course it’s happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”

-0-

“I have won! Harry Potter is dead!”

Shouts of pain and grief greeted Voldemort’s words and he reveled in them. He could hear their pain. He could feel their despair. He could taste their anguish.

He savored every moment.

“I am the greatest Wizard of all time. I have killed all my enemies. Let me ask you, are you my enemies too? Must I waste valuable magical blood in a foolish display of rebellion?”

The survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts jeered at him. They shouted their defiance. Though tears were in their eyes, though many wept bitterly seeing the body of Harry lying in Rubeus Hagrid’s arms, they desired to fight on. To defy Voldemort. To stand against him to the very end.

“Very well,” Voldemort said with insincere regret. “To regrow the forest, one must burn the stubborn remnants.” He held up an arm and pointed at the waiting floating Dementors. “However, it will be swift for you. You have defied me for too long. You must pay the price.”

He pointed at the survivors. “Go, feed on them.”

“No.”

Every eye looked up in astonishment.

Ryllis had let her hood fall back and she floated right above Voldemort. Other Ritual Dementors dropped their hoods, showing themselves to all. The Primals looked nervous, their still cowled heads moved with agitation. They wanted to heed Voldemort but the strength of the Ritual Dementors held them back.

“You dare?!” Voldemort was beside himself with fury.

Ryllis was wholly unimpressed. “I dare. We do not listen to you. You are the Broken by your own hand. We who have been Shattered by others will not listen to you. Not now.”

He laughed. The tone was less sure of itself. It doubted.

She laughed. It was heartening, inspiring.

He tried to exert his will on her, on any of the Dementors without hoods. He felt his magic pull on them. He saw them remain resolute.

“What are you?” he whispered. Fear clawed at him, fear of something unknown, fear of something outside his control.

“We are the Shattered. We are the Redeemed!” Ryllis’ voice grew in volume, in emotion. She rose high into the air and she threw her hands wide. “We woke from sleep to greet the rising sun!”

The sun broke from behind the clouds. Rays of golden light fell on the broken ground below. She was framed by one, brilliant, terrifying.

Ryllis felt the connection shine brighter than the light around her. She felt her love magnified. She screamed in joy. “For the Dawnbringer! To the end! For redemption and the future!”

The Ritual Dementors flew into action. Some hurled themselves at the Primals, ripping and tear them into shreds that dissolved in the sunlight. Others howled as they flew at the Death Eaters and Snatchers. Claws carved into flesh, tearing masks from faces, breaking wands.

Ryllis flew at one of the last remaining Giants. She howled in fury, her mouth opened wide, her claws outstretched. She dodged the giant’s clumsy swing and flew into its face. The giant screamed with pain and fear, grabbing at its face. Its screams were soon silenced as it fell over, its face a bloody ruin.

With Voldemort and his forces in disarray, Harry leapt from Hagrid’s arms. His wand flashed as he hurled jinxes and curses at Voldemort’s followers. He pushed his love into his connection as he fought harder than he had ever fought before.

“Dawnbringer!” The Ritual Dementors cried out as they fought. “For the bringer of light and memory!”

“For Harry!” Ryllis screamed over all.