Hi there (:
Right, I don't claim to own the song lyrics that are at the beginning or end of the song, or the ones that are sort of intermixed with the story. They belong to Chris de Burgh. I simply took his song and applied it to Harry Potter, and wrote it two years ago :\ . Ehh. It was a cool idea in my head. So yeah. Not stealing anything. I changed some of the lines too so that I wasn't just taking the song and putting it as dialogue. For those who know the song, they'll be able to tell which lyrics were altered. They aren't mine. Just playing. If you don't know the song, you probably won't get the one-shot. Simple as that.
There's a Spanish train that runs between
Guadalquivir and old Saville,
And at dead of night the whistle blows,
and people hear she's running still...
Harry watched dismally from his sick-bed, curiously pondering what ached him so. There were whispers his life hung by a thin thread, just waiting to be cut by the Fates of the Underworld.
The Order members paced their headquarters anxiously, while his best of friends sat beside him, Hermione's head bent in prayer. Ron studied him from his chair in the corner, his face betraying his calm demeanor. Harry knew, inside, Ron Weasley was in as much pain as he. A train rumbled by in the distance, the warning horn screaming through the dead night.
The door to his room locked suddenly, and Hermione's head shot up, her eyes wide and alert. Ron rose slowly, drawing his wand out from his cloak, while Harry noticed something. There, in the most lonely and bereft corner stood a dark, brooding figure.
And then they hush their children back to sleep,
Lock the doors, upstairs they creep,
For it is said that the souls of the dead
Fill that train ten thousand deep!!
"Well Dumbledore's no where to be seen," a high, cruel voice hissed, "And look what I've found. Here, here, Harry, let me ease you into death."
The Dark Lord Voldemort calmly stepped out of the shadows, his usual dramatic flair only enhanced by the darkness of the room. Hermione reached for her wand, but Harry shook a weak hand at her, silently telling her to wait.
Voldemort's skin stood stark in the slowly shrinking room, and Harry pondered how many times his old foe had seen the sun in the past several years.
Just then, Dumbledore himself appeared, the room shivering at the shock of his abrupt arrival. Harry was unaware apparition could be done into his room. But then again, how did the Devil get in?
"Step away and leave, Tom," Dumbledore ordered, his voice somewhat tired and aggravated, Was age finally taking its toll?
Voldemort grinned and took a large step forward, closing the gap between the old men slightly, "Now, now, no need to be rude, But might I point out that I got here first... If I leave he's coming with me."
Harry's eyes twitched nervously between his mentor and his enemy, wondering who would speak first. Voldemort released a lazy sigh and folded his arms, "But perhaps I could give you one more chance. So lower your wand, old man, and challenge me to something worthwhile. Joker is the name, poker is the game, we'll play right here on his bed... The winner keeps the boy's soul."
Sir!" Harry whispered frantically as Voldemort conjured up a deck of cards, "It's not that I don't trust your... poker skills, but he's going to win!"
"Deal the cards, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, taking Ron's chair and pulling it to the side of the bed. Voldemort sent a rather vile look to Hermione and she quickly scrambled out of her seat, offering it to him. He murmured something along the lines of "I'm pleased to see Mudblood has some manners." and sat across from Dumbledore, scooping up the five cards Harry had dealt the pair.
Voldemort grinned wickedly, and when Harry peeked, he noticed three aces and a king, while Dumbledore was pushing for a straight. He had the queen and the knave, and nine and ten of spades, all he needed was the eight.
"Another card, Harry," Dumbledore asked, his voice riddled with common courtesy, something his opponent lacked. Harry handed him the card, and winced when he saw the eight of diamonds. Voldemort drummed his free set of fingers on the bed, "I believe you've got it straight? Deal me one, boy... Time to settle this."
Harry slid him the card, but his eyes widened as he watched the Dark Lord slip an ace from beneath his cloak and into his hand.
"Sir-"
"Quiet, Harry."
"But sir!"
"You may leave if you cannot control yourself."
Harry's eyes darted up to Ron and Hermione, but they seemed just as flabbergasted as he. How could Albus Dumbledore have missed such a foul cheat?
Harry's soul was the opening bid, soon went to his, Malfoy's and Hermione's. Dumbledore nodded his head slowly, his eyes twinkling, "That suits me fine. Let's make it more interesting. Higher stakes. My soul to you, should I lose. Yours to me should I win."
Voldemort leapt up victoriously, tossing his hand of aces onto the bed cover, "My hand wins!"
Dumbledore slowly and neatly stacked his cards in a pile and rose, his expression unreadable to Harry. He exhaled, "Shall we?"
"You let him win!" Hermione exploded, causing both older wizards to look back at her in surprise, "He cheated and you let him win! Your soul was on the line and you let him win!"
Dumbledore made brief eye contact with Harry, until Voldemort clutched his arm and they both vanished.
In the distance, the train sounded once more.
A Muggle train still passes the Order and their headquarters, blowing the horn to let everyone know it was running through town. As for Dumbledore, Harry had heard through the grape vine that he and Voldemort had given up poker. Instead, the pair battled it out in violent matches of chess. Voldemort still cheats, adding years onto Dumbledore's stay with him.
As for Harry's old friend, well, he's just doing his best...
And I said "Lord, oh Lord, you've got to win,
The sun is down and the night is riding in,
That train is still on time, oh
my soul is on the line,
Oh Lord, you've got to
win..."