The Re-Sorting [Drarry, TW SMUT]

The Final Battle.

1st POV - Harry

The moment I slipped back into the manor’s grounds, the air around me felt thick with dark magic. The night pulsed with the sounds of battle—spells colliding, shouts of pain and defiance echoing against the grand, crumbling walls of Malfoy Manor. The Order had arrived, their presence a beacon of resistance against the overwhelming tide of Death Eaters who still stood by Voldemort’s side. 

I ran through the chaos, ducking past duels and fallen bodies, my heart hammering. There was no time to hesitate, no time for fear. Draco was safe for now—but none of us would ever be safe until this was over. 

A jet of green light shot past me, close enough that I felt the heat of it. I spun, raising my wand in defense just as Bellatrix Lestrange emerged from the shadows, her wild eyes gleaming with bloodlust. 

“Well, well,” she purred, twirling her wand between her fingers like a dagger. “Come back to die, have you, boy?” 

I barely had time to react before she attacked. Red sparks exploded between us as our spells clashed, the force of them sending ripples through the floor. My entire body screamed with exhaustion, but I held my ground, pushing her back with every ounce of magic I had left in me. 

She laughed, delighting in the battle, in the chaos. “The Dark Lord is waiting for you, Potter! He knew you’d come crawling back! Come to join, come to join!” She chanted.

That sent a cold chill down my spine, but I didn’t let it distract me. I blocked her next curse, sending a Stupefy her way that she barely dodged. I didn’t have time for her—I needed to get to Voldemort. 

Summoning every bit of magic I could muster, I threw her backward with a powerful Expelliarmus, sending her flying into the remains of a shattered dining table. She shrieked in frustration, scrambling to her feet, but by the time she recovered, I was already gone. 

I ran through the grand hallway, dodging curses, weaving past dueling figures. And then, at the heart of the destruction, I saw him. 

Voldemort stood at the end of the ruined corridor, his snake-like features twisted in amusement, as though this entire battle was nothing more than a game to him. Around him, Death Eaters fell back, giving him space. It was always meant to end this way. 

“Harry Potter,” he hissed, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “At last.” 

I stepped forward, my grip tightening on my wand. “It ends tonight. Me and you.” 

His thin lips curled into something like a smirk. “Famous last words. Bravery has never saved you before. You cannot run from death, boy.” 

“I’m not running,” I said, and before he could move, I struck. 

The battle between us was faster than I had ever imagined. Spells flew like lightning, colliding in midair with explosive force. My body moved on instinct—years of training, of survival, guiding me. He was powerful, more than I had ever faced before, but I had something he didn’t. 

I had something to fight for. 

He lashed out with a Killing Curse, but I deflected, dodging just in time. The air around us crackled with raw, unchecked magic. The walls of the manor trembled under the weight of our fight. 

Then, through the chaos, I heard the voices. The Order was fighting with everything they had. Ron, Hermione, Kingsley, even McGonagall—every single one of them holding the line. I wasn’t alone. 

Voldemort sneered, raising his wand. “You are weak, Potter. Do you really think your feeble attempts at love will save you?” 

I met his gaze, fire burning in my chest. “No,” I said, my voice steady. “But they’ll save them."

And with that, I summoned every last bit of power I had, every piece of love and pain and hope inside me, and I cast the spell that would end it all. 

"Expelliarmus!"

Voldemort’s own curse struck mine, but this time, there was no Priori Incantatem, no connection of wands—just the sheer force of our wills clashing in a blinding explosion of magic. 

I saw the moment he realized—realized that this time, it was different. That I was stronger. That he was afraid. 

And then his wand flew from his fingers, spinning wildly through the air. 

He staggered, his red eyes widening in horror. 

And then, with a final, shuddering breath, he collapsed. 

Silence fell. 

A stillness unlike any I had ever felt before. The battle raged around us, but at that moment, everything faded into the background. 

It was over. 

Voldemort was gone. 

I stood there, my chest rising and falling, my entire body trembling with the force of what had just happened. The Dark Lord—the monster who had haunted my entire life—was gone. 

I barely registered the cheers, the cries of victory, the sound of Death Eaters fleeing for their lives. 

All I could think of was Draco. 

I turned, running, desperate to get back to the grove, to him. I had won—but none of it mattered if I didn’t make it back to him.