Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury, Scholastic, and Raincoats Books, and Warner Brothers Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author notes: Please review, comment, dissect and point out everything that fails – it always helps.

Dance of the Soul


Chapter 1

It never goes according to the plan. I should have known that, but my common senses always seem to leave me when it matter the most. I can't figure why the Sorting Hat considered placing me in Slytherin.

My sides were hurting like hell and I was bleeding heavily from several spots, but I couldn't let myself be distracted by that. Staying alive was more important.

"Your Horcruxes are destroyed, you are not invulnerable," I spat – maybe it would distract him, but I wasn't so sure anymore; he didn't show the slightest sign of weariness and his spells were more powerful than ever.

"Potter," hissed Voldemort, "your mind couldn't even grasp the concept of a soul – you don't know its nature and inner working, yet you delude yourself thinking you can defeat me."

I tried to maintain my weak Occlumency shields as his ferociously voice assaulted my mind – each word hammering my brain with the intensity of a Bludger, and yet my pride wouldn't allow me to look away.

"I am as eternal as the magic that governs our world," he continued, his eyes seemed to shine in the low lit cavern, "my immortality transcends life and death, the destructions of the Horcruxes changes absolutely nothing. You cannot defeat me."

His last words rung like a bell in my mind and for a moment, I was convinced that he couldn't be defeated, that the Order's efforts were vain, but I shrugged those thoughts immediately. I understood why people followed him – his words affected people unlike anyone else, his voice commanded power and respect. I need to focus, I reminded myself.

"Nonetheless I admire your resolve and determination," he finished with a malicious smile curving on his lips as cursed flames burst into existence before him, the orange and black tendrils of fire taking the figure of a huge viciously-looking serpent.

Fuck, he's not playing with me anymore. My hastily erected shield barely held against the sheer power behind his spell, but it gave me enough time to gather mental focus and apparate a dozen feet away, launching immediately a barrage of piercing and cutting curses – hoping to distract him enough to release the cursed fire – however he didn't shield himself as I hoped – the Fiendfyre monstrosity intercepted and swallowed my spells before launching itself towards me.

I didn't let myself be surprised - and continued the onslaught, missing deliberately with a few blasting curses – the creature of fire catching only those which were between me and its master. I was about to raise a second shield when the fire serpent suddenly vanished, leaving only a trail of black smoke behind; Voldemort Apparated in time to avoid being crushed by the falling large chunks of rocks from the ceiling, thanks to my blasting spells.

I transfigured as soon the rock fragments into sharp metal spears, and banished them towards Voldemort who nonchalantly threw them aside as if they were simple wooden twigs, then summoned a glacial wind with a graceful slash of his wand, freezing anything in its path.

A split second before it reached me, I managed to apply a shabby anti-freezing jinx on myself – but I still felt the wind biting my skin and eyes like sharp needles. I countered with a strong wave of fire which turned out to be a bad idea; the flames returned toward me, fuelled by the additional oxygen from the wind. A second shield saved me de justesse from my own spell. I tried to ignore the heat as I dropped my shield and began conjuring a fire whip – the same spell used Dumbledore two years ago during the battle in the Ministry of Magic – my direct spells were useless and I my transfiguration skills were meager.

I had to interrupt the long incantation as two successive Killing Curses sped towards me. Even as I threw myself to the ground, I couldn't help but shiver at the feeling of death and decay that filled my senses – it was a deadly and unblockable curse. I spat the dust from my mouth and tried to get on my feet, but my body was suddenly thrown in the air like a rag doll, landing twenty feet from where I stood seconds earlier, my wand spiralling out of my hand as black dots began to fill my vision and my ears throbbing from the sudden shock.

And then there was pain – incomparable pain – as the Unforgivable hit me. I tried to scream, but I couldn't – my muscles were convulsing violently and I felt like every nerve in my body was on fire. I thought I heard some words by Voldemort, but it was lost to me as thoughts threatened to slip away.

Then, the pain stopped abruptly - and I could feel something cold gripping my hands and feet; I tried to move my head, opening slightly my eyes – my vision was blurry as my glasses had probably fallen earlier - I could see hands of bones and rotten flesh protruding from the ground and effectively immobilizing me. Turning my head to the other side, I saw the form of Voldemort slowly approaching.

"It's astounding how lucky you were during all those years, yet luck can only get you so far," began Voldemort softly as he glanced at my broken body, "but some things aren't meant to last forever."

I tried to curse him, to say some last futile words but my aching throat couldn't produce anything coherent – all that I managed to make was a few gagging sounds. He knelt and lifted my chin with his pale and skeletal hand, his sharp nails digging my skin and drawing blood – he seemed immune to the protection bestowed by my mother before she died – his face was inches away and his eyes bore into mine.

Trying to resist was useless; his Legilimency was too powerful – the body contact amplifying the spell tenfold. I felt completely naked to his gaze, every secret within my mind was exposed, and my most intimate thoughts violated – he saw everything . Suddenly, his eyes widened for a brief instant and he staggered. He saw clearly something unexpected.

"Perhaps I shall let you live, for now," he said abruptly after regaining his composure. And with a swish of his cloak and a soft 'pop', he was gone.

The assault took too much out of me; I couldn't ponder what he meant by his last words as I slipped into unconsciousness.

It was a comfortable bed was the first thought that came to my mind as I woke up. The aseptic smell in the air gave off my location easily – I was lying in the Hospital Wing, in Hogwarts.

I opened my eyes slowly–the morning light seemed more intense than usual – and looked at my left. As expected, I spotted my wand and glasses just next to my bed; after I put them on, my vision became once again sharp. I checked my wand – it gave a comforting feeling of power as I held it in my hand – it was in a good condition, thanks to the regular polishing.

I looked around me and saw a familiar silhouette lying in a very awkward position on a couch nearby. Her pink hair was untidy, and after a couple of seconds my lips began curving into a smile as I realised that she snored slightly. That will annoy Tonks to no end when I tell her.

After a few seconds of consideration, I decided against waking her up. She certainly wouldn't be happy with my latest escapade and I had some things that needed to be done immediately.

With a quick flick of my wand, the hospital gown I was wearing transformed into plain black robes. Not really fashionable – I didn't have the fine control over details that Dumbledore or McGonagall possessed – but it would be sufficient until I find something more adequate to wear.

My shaky and freshly healed legs barely held me when I tried to walk, but after a couple of steps I managed to find balance and left silently the Hospital Wing, hoping to avoid waking up Madam Pomfrey – and subsequently Tonks.

Heading for the Headmaster's office, I replayed last night events in my head. It was foolish of me to rush unprepared into the potentially dangerous situation, but what was done was done. Still, I made a mental note to never head unprepared into a dangerous situation again.

The last events were what particularly perplexed me; I couldn't figure what had Voldemort change his mind – what knowledge discovered within my mind had shaken him so much.

I remember him seeing everything in my mind – the prophecy which he already knew half of it – the destruction of his Horcruxes – the name and face of every single member of the Order of the Phoenix – the training I underwent with Dumbledore – but nothing of this did surprise him. No, it was something different, something I had in my mind yet did not know, as strange as this sounds.

When someone uses Legilimency, both the caster and the target see the memories – yet I couldn't see what had affected the Dark Lord so much.

I was confident that I knew everything that my mind held, thanks to my crude Occlumency training. Even if I had blocks on my memories – which could be the product of an Obliviation spell – I would be able to spot it and with some effort unravel it. But no, it was something entirely different – something more profound, something very old – I felt what Voldemort felt when he saw that – and I have no word to describe this feeling.

Maybe Dumbledore would have an idea.

As I approached the gargoyle, its eyes seemingly following me – I knew it was an optical illusion – it moved apart, recognizing my magical signature, allowing me to enter the Headmaster's office.

Panting from the physical effort from going up the stairs, I knocked on the door. Nobody answered. I tried opening the door, the handle giving no resistance to my attempt, and penetrated the large circular office; Dumbledore probably expected me to get her as soon as I woke up.

The circular office was unusually quiet – the portraits of the previous school headmasters which were always talking in the background were absent – the frame being empty was odd in itself since even during important meetings, the privacy spells were sufficient to obscure their senses. So, unless one had to deliver a message, he remained in his original frame.

The perch where Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, usually stood was empty – I noticed the ashes below, which indicated that the Headmaster's familiar went recently through his burning days.

I perused his library, trying to catch an interesting title to read while waiting for the Headmaster. 101 Recipes for Flavoured Drops was the first book that spotted my attention; definitely something one would expect from his library, if they knew about the man's eccentricities. Contrastingly, right next to this book stood Of The Foulest Magicks. Only Dumbledore would have recipes for candies and the Darkest spells known to mankind next to each other; I chuckled at that fact.

Browsing some more, I found Memoirs of a Runemancer which I took and seated myself in the comfortable chair in from of the desk, reading the book that caught my attention for a short while before being interrupted.

"Did you know that runemancer Orvald Puplekin is the only Wizard known to have walked on the moon?" asked the jovial voice of Albus Dumbledore as he entered his office.

"Good morning, Headmaster," I greeted him and added after a short pause "No – I'm sure Muggles wouldn't be thrilled by that fact, though."

"True, Harry, we'll never know," he said before letting jovial chuckles, his blue eyes twinkling madly.

"Lemon drops?" he proposed to me as he sat - I accepted gladly. Albus Dumbledore was truly a unique man, and I couldn't imagine Hogwarts without him at its head.

Pleasantries didn't last longer – his face grew serious and his blue eyes hardened. "Did you fight Voldemort?" he asked me – I nodded. Straight to the point.

"I suspected as much," he added after a few seconds of reflexion. I watched the stars decorating his blue robe dance as the Headmaster went to his personal vitrine and carefully extracted a rectangular bowl, decorated with tiny runes embossed on its surface. He put it on his desk, in front of me.

I promptly took my wand and pressed it lightly to my temple. Slowly, I drew a silvery substance – the memories of the previous night -, the substance scintillating under the morning light, and deposed it carefully in the pensieve.

"Shall we?" he asked accompanying the words with gracefully gesture of his hand. We both touched the silvery substance with our wands and the vision of the office disappeared in a swirling vortex.

I staggered, rolling on the ground, as the portkey deposited me in a small clearing in what appeared to be a very ancient forest. The evening's sunlight filtered through the trees, casting long shadows which seemed to unnaturally move – it was just an impression – yet being a magical forest – one could expect anything. Following a seemingly random path through trees, bushes and brambles I stumbled upon the entrance of a cavern.

Darkness filled most of my vision – I couldn't see anything in front of me, despite the numerous torches on each side of the walls. From time to time, slightly glowing runes appeared engraved on the cold and damp stone. I couldn't recognise them – they seemed archaic – but I was no rune expect; I only knew the basics necessary to raise simple wards for privacy or intrusion.

After a dozen minutes of walking blindly, I emerged in a huge hall – phosphorescent walls gave an eerie blue light – twisted and broken columns were visible on the ground – faintly glowing crystals grew on the ceiling, instead of the expected stalactites. I could barely distinguee the other side – it was really huge; without the magical runes engraved every now and then on the walls, the ceiling would most likely collapse.

I continued to move forward, cautiously – then I saw what I was looking for. A golden altar stood there, precious stones and diamonds the size of a Quaffle ornated the sacrificial artefact, but what caught my attention was the naked figure who lay on it. Her skin was pale – deathly pale – contrasting with her red hair.

I came too late this time.

A voice echoed behind me as I began sprinting toward the unmoving body of Ginevra Weasley.

"So we meet again, Harry Potter."

I stopped. A shiver went running through my body and my heart rate became wild; it was a serpentine voice – belonging to no other than Lord Voldemort himself. Drawing my wand , I found myself facing him in the blink of an eye. "Voldemort," I said through my teeth, rage rising inside me.

I wasted no time as a purple curse left my wand in the direction of Voldemort only to be parried effortlessly.

"It was a remarkable fight, Harry," commented Albus Dumbledore as we came out of the pensieve.

"I am inexperienced – he was right, you know – I survived only sheer luck," I replied, leaving the headmaster with a thoughtful look on his face, as his fingers played with his silvery beard.

"Do you have any idea what he saw," I asked him, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

After a moment, he readjusted his glasses on his nose and let out a sigh. "Alas, I have not the slightest idea," he finally said.

I was about to leave when Fawkes came back with a flash and went to his perch. I didn't have to wonder where he has been – I expected the Weasleys will rush here soon enough.

With that, I wished him a good day and left the office – pondering his last words. I had a 'gut feeling' that he was lying – however improbable it sounded. It made no sense. Why would he lie? He was always truthful to me – I was his apprentice – he was my mentor – the only person I counted as family. When he felt that I wasn't ready for something, he'd tell me it wasn't time yet – but he'd never lie to me. Or would he?

I didn't know why I was thinking that – perhaps because my 'gut instincts' were rarely wrong. I let out a long sigh as I turned the corner, heading to my personal quarters.

"Hey, watch where-" began a familiar figure as she sprawled on the ground.

"Harry?" she said as she got on her feet and saw me – then raised her voice, "I was looking for you."

Nymphadora Tonks. Metamorphmagus, terribly beautiful, terribly dangerous, particularly when you call her by her first name, and currently my girlfriend. She also looked pissed. Really pissed.

"How could you do that to me? I was worried sick," she began yelling nearly hysterically at me, pounding her fists to my torso.

"I was looking for you the whole evening," she continued, "I searched the whole castle, then asked every teacher and every fucking student where you were and no one had an idea. Running off like that...You could have died."

I had half a mind to remind her I've barely survived from the fight with Voldemort and that I was still in pain – but I let her continue to hit me; I deserved that after all.

"Good morning to you too," I tried to say cheerfully, ignoring the fact that she was angry and ready to tear my eyes from my head.

"I should kill you," she said and in an afterthought added, "then fuck your dead body over and over."

There was only one way to make her stop – I caught her fist in my hands and kissed her suddenly. Her eyes widened and she tried to protest during a brief instant, but then abandoned herself in my kiss, and after I finishedn, kissed me back even more ferociously, while her hands founds their way under my robes.

"Students may catch us, we shouldn't do it here," I managed to say between kisses.

"Fuck the students," was her only response as she pushed me in an unused classroom and nearly tearing my robes of me – a small was visible on my face all the while.

I'm not completely satisfied with the first chapter - had some last minutes changes on it - but then, I'm rarely satisfied with what I write.

Please review. Thanks.