Through A Glass, Darkly

by Net Girl

Two years after Harry and his friends have left Hogwarts, the young wizard is brought face to face with his destiny. Will he survive? Will he remain ... Just Harry?

Rating: PG-13 - for some fairly graphic gore.

Summary: Two years after Harry and his friends have left Hogwarts, the young wizard is brought face to face with his destiny. Will he survive? Will he remain ... Just Harry?

Spoilers: It's best to have read all the HP books.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, her publisher and her many, many well-paid lawyers. I am NOT making any money off this, nor am I trying to infringe on anyone's copyright. Believe that.

Author's Notes: The final installment in my Dark!Harry series. "Ruined In A Day", "Sea of Sin", "Black Celebration" and "Examination of Conscience".

Questions, Comments, Suggestions: Send to donnacsoprano76 AT gmail DOT com. All flames are read, laughed at then deleted with extreme prejudice.

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster.
And when you look long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you."
– Friedrich Nietzsche

"For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know
fully just as I also have been fully known."
- I Corinthians 11: 13

"Through A Glass, Darkly"
by Net Girl

Hermione Granger dipped her quill point into the bottle of ink then finished scratching out the rest of her sentence onto the piece of parchment. Once done, she brushed the feather against her cheek as she reread her latest report to the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. In the two years since leaving Hogwarts, she'd worked for the Ministry. She'd been offered a position to begin training as an Auror. The opportunity was too good to pass up, especially with the state of the wizarding world at present.

Crookshanks meowed as he jumped up on the table. The cat's paw reached out and playfully batted Hermione's quill.

She smiled and stroked his head with her free hand. "I'm almost finished," she assured him. "Then I'll pay attention to you. I promise."

The cat meowed once more then silently leaped down from the table.

The smile faded as she looked back down at the report she'd been working on. It regarded the on-going search for Lucius Malfoy. He'd completely vanished, along with Narcissa and Draco, about two months prior. The word around the Ministry was he'd gone back to Voldemort. Sources reported the Dark Lord's full power had nearly returned to him. Lucius Malfoy's disappearance worried many. If Voldemort was indeed ready to make a move, Malfoy would most certainly be at his master's side.

Brushing a finger over the dried ink, she reread the last sentences in her head.

'Harry Potter and I have conducted extensive inquiries on Lucius Malfoy's whereabouts with known associates of Malfoy's and other suspected Death Eaters. Unfortunately, our search has turned up little useful information.'

Sighing heavily, she dropped the quill and buried her face in her hands. She was losing any hope of finding Malfoy, let alone becoming a full-fledged Auror. Harry, on the other hand, had been doing very well in his field work. She suspected the dark reputation that followed him from his seventh and final year at Hogwarts frightened most people he confronted. Not just those they'd questioned about Voldemort or Malfoy, either.

In the halls of the Ministry, she heard the whispers when she and Harry would walk by others. He'd become rather talented at pretending not to notice. She wished she could do so well. Some days, she guessed the other Ministry employees were surprised to see Harry even show up. As though he were no better than the Malfoys or any of Voldemort's mindless, sycophant followers.

A sharp knock on her door startled her out of her thoughts. She turned in her chair, glancing at the clock. It was almost three P.M. Who could be visiting me at this time of day? she wondered. Ron Weasley never left the Office of Muggle Artifacts before 4 P.M., and he would show up on her doorstep promptly at five o'clock.

Curious, Hermione crossed through her small living room, passing by several animated photographs of her and Ron taken over the last two years. When she reached the door, her hand rested on the doorknob but she didn't open it. After a few seconds, she called out, "Who is it?"

Several moments of silence passed before Harry Potter's voice answered from the other side, "It's me, Hermione. Open the door."

Relaxing, she opened her door. Harry stood there, his head bowed and one hand on either side of her door frame. She swallowed and waited for him to say something. But he only stood there.

"Harry?" she asked after a minute. "Are you all right?"

These days, that question never got a straight answer from him. Harry had a complicated existence before seventh year when everything went crazy. Since then, nothing had been the same. He'd changed so much that some days she swore she could see that old Harry, the evil one, in his eyes.

Slowly, he lifted his head. His dark hair was a mess, as always, and parted a bit at his forehead where the lightning bolt scar resided. His green eyes pierced through his glasses with such intensity that Hermione almost didn't recognize him for a second. Still, she couldn't help but feel that chill run down her spine.

"Thought I'd find you here," he coolly said. He glanced beyond her, into the small flat in which she'd lived in - alone - for the last year. "Are you alone?" he asked as he met her gaze again. He noted the hidden fear in her eyes but didn't think much of it. He was used to that. From everyone.

Holding onto the door with both hands, she cautiously nodded her head. "Yes. Ron probably won't be by for a few hours yet." Her expression changed once more. Concern took over. "Are you okay, Harry?"

Crookshanks appeared at Hermione's feet, meowed questioningly at the visitor then looked up to her.

Harry glanced down at the cat before settling his gaze on Hermione again. He couldn't help but notice how pretty she looked this afternoon. She'd become even prettier since she'd left school. He supposed it was the colorful robes she wore in place of the drab black ones of Hogwarts. The blue ones she wore now suited her better than black.

"May I come in, Hermione?" he asked, avoiding her question.

She took a step back. "Of course," she answered. She watched Harry as he entered the flat then she closed the door quietly. "I'm surprised to see you. I thought you'd gone to Surrey?"

"I did," he distantly replied. He walked by the fireplace that was connected to the extensive Floo system which stretched over most of England. Stopping at the end of it, he picked up one of the pictures of Ron and Hermione together. Both smiled broadly at him, waving. In the background, he saw the rest of the Weasley family. Except for Ginny, of course. They were on vacation in Ireland at the time, he recalled. This photo wasn't even a year old.

Closing his eyes briefly, he roughly replaced the framed photo to its spot on the mantle. He didn't like the Weasley family much anymore. They didn't make him feel welcome either and he couldn't fault them. After what he'd done to their youngest child, their only daughter? Thankfully, Arthur Weasley was a better man than Harry and kept the hideous truth about Ginny within the family. They hadn't spoken at all in over a year. Ron was the only one who tried to be civil.

He promised, though. That's why, Harry thought.

"Harry?" she asked again as she picked up Crookshanks in her arms. She bit her lower lip for a second then came closer to him. "Why are you here? Has something happened?"

He rested a hand on the mantle then let out a breath. "I know where he is," he simply said. He looked over to her. "I know."

Hermione blinked a few times, stunned at what he'd just told her. "You ... you know where Lucius Malfoy is?" she asked, almost in a whisper.

Harry's hand dropped from the mantle as he turned to face her. "He's at an estate in Northern England. A place no one ever thought to look because it used to belong to Narcissa Malfoy's family." He laughed humorlessly. "Can you believe that?"

Her brow furrowed. "How did you find out where he is? The Ministry's been searching for two months and nothing."

"The Ministry wasn't asking the right people," he said with a shrug. He walked by her, still looking around her flat as he did so. Such a warm feeling to her home. He wished he could have that. He barely spent anytime at his place. Being alone left him too much time to think. To remember. "It's amazing what one can learn when he twists the right arms in Knockturn Alley." He glanced over his shoulder at her then smiled again.

"Oh, Harry! You didn't go down there, did you?" she gasped. She hadn't realized she'd spoken in such a hush. Knockturn Alley was notorious for its lowlifes and shady witches and wizards. No self-respecting witch or wizard would be caught dead there, if he or she could help it. Most of those in Knockturn Alley scattered whenever anyone from the Ministry came along - on those rare occasions that anyone would dare go.

"Not as though it was the first time I've been there," he said then smiled a little wider. He watched as Crookshanks jumped down from her arms and made himself comfortable on the sofa. "What does it matter where I found out, anyway?"

"If anyone saw you down there," she began, that stern, bossy tone from their school years back in her voice. "It ... it wouldn't do you any good, that's for certain."

"I think I'm beyond the need to worry about my reputation, Hermione."

She frowned at him. "That isn't funny."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Not that Harry minded. He decided to enjoy the quiet while it lasted because once Hermione found out what he planned to do with this information, she would never shut up.

She sighed loudly after a minute or two. "We have to tell Fudge, Harry," she finally said. She crossed the room, gathered up the scrolls she'd been working on and looked at him. "He has to know. Once we find out if Malfoy is really with Vo - You-Know-Who once again, they'll know how to proceed."

He shook his head. "I'm not telling Fudge." He stepped in her way when she headed for the door. He placed both hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "You aren't, either."

"We have to! Do you realize how important this is to everyone? For so long, we've searched for this man and now we know where he is. We can't keep this from them!" She shrugged his hands from her shoulders and stepped around him. "I'm sorry, but this isn't a road I can travel down with you, Harry. Not when so much is staked upon it."

"Fine, then. Go."

She stopped short of the door.

"Go," he went on. "I'll find him by myself. And when I do, I'll use it as my opportunity to settle a few scores." He waited for her response. If he knew her, and he did, she'd never let him go alone. She would try to talk him out of it first, yes. When that didn't work, she'd give in and go with him. That's what he wanted.

You should leave her here, Harry, a familiar voice rasped from deep in the back of his mind. She'll only get in your way.

As usual, he ignored what that voice had to say. He'd been doing so for the last two years. Instead, he waited. The next move was Hermione's and he had the strategy to make things go the way he wanted. All she had to do was turn around. That was it.

-

The magnificent estate was quiet. A light wind blew through the broken windows, whistling softly as it fluttered the white sheets draped over the furniture which remained in the mansion that Narcissa Malfoy's ancestors had once called home. The wood creaked and yawned. From the outside, a few birds chirped their melancholy songs. Other than that, the house was dead.

Suddenly, the fireplace hiccuped then belched forth Harry. He coughed a few times as he sat up on the hardwood floor. Brushing the dust and soot from his hair with one hand, he withdrew his wand from underneath his robe with the other. After wiping away the dirt from his glasses, he staggered to his feet then looked around the main living room of the mansion.

In the next moment, the fireplace belched forth Hermione. "Oh," she muttered as she shook the dirt from her hair. She sneezed twice then opened her robe to find her wand. Once she did, she patted the black soot from her blue robes. You never should've agreed to this, she scolded herself. You used to stand your ground, Hermione. What's happened to you?

"Here."

She looked up when a filthy hand appeared in front of her face. Harry wriggled his fingers as though that would make her hurry it up. She accepted his hand and let him help her to her feet.

"This place looks as though it's been deserted for decades," she whispered as they scanned the main room.

The dirt was more than two inches thick in some places. Some of the furniture that wasn't covered with sheeting showed signs of age and wear. No one had taken care of this place - no wonder the Ministry people never thought to look here. The wind whistled around them and the smell of rain was in the mild spring air. The soft tinkling of what remained of an ornate crystal chandelier drew their attention to the ceiling above them.

"Are you certain that he's here?" she asked as she and Harry looked at one another.

He only gestured for her to follow him. Carefully, they crept into the adjoining room, a grand foyer area, with an elegant oak staircase rising to a second floor to their right. To the left was the main door. What wasn't rotted away hung desperately to its rusting brass hinges.

Hermione picked a piece of cobweb from her robes then tossed it aside. Her eyes remained wide and alert for any signs of life. Her heart raced whenever she entertained the idea that Voldemort might be there. She wished she'd stalled Harry now. Or had contacted Ron. Yes. That would've been the best thing to do. Get Ron. He would've been on her side. It was too late for that, though.

Harry, however, concentrated on everything around him. Someone was there. He could feel it. And the presence wasn't friendly, either. Turning, he let his eyes go up the grand staircase once more.

"Harry, I don't think anyone is -"

"Hermione, get down!"

"Avada Kedavra!" a third, familiar, male voice screamed a half a second before Harry's warning.

Hermione had barely processed the command from Harry when she felt herself being full-body tackled onto the wood floor. Upon landing, she slammed the back of her head onto the floor, dazing her to the point her vision blurred. A ringing drowned out the sounds around her. "Harry ..." she murmured.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry yelled once the other spell had missed himself and Hermione. The bright light leaped from his wand towards the third party who had attacked them.

By the time everything settled down enough for Hermione to know what happened, she and Harry were still laying on the floor together. At the foot of the staircase, laying in a moaning heap, was Draco Malfoy. She sighed then winced at the pain that shot through her entire head.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked as he moved his own body so Hermione could sit up.

She placed a hand to the back of her head, nodded then looked to him. "I'm ... I'm fine," she quietly said. Her gaze shifted over to Draco, who still moaned in his own pain. "I guess your source was correct. At least one of the Malfoys is here." Her eyes squinted when she removed her hand from her head. "Mmm."

"Are you going to be okay by yourself?" he asked.

Hermione looked at him, noting the concern for her well-being in his eyes. She smiled, faintly, and felt comfortable with him again. The Harry she trusted was with her now. The one she could count on. "Yes, thank you. For what you did," she replied.

Sure that she was all right, Harry stood up and walked over to Malfoy, who lay flat on his stomach now, his head raised a little, with one hand slowly reaching out for his wand, inches away from him. " Ah!" he yelped as Harry planted his foot on his hand, flattening his palm to the floor.

"You move one muscle, Malfoy, and I'll crush every single bone," Harry growled. He waited a moment then when it appeared that Draco planned to cooperate, he leaned over and snatched up the other wizard's wand. "I'll hold onto this for a while, if you don't mind."

"Piss off, Potter," Draco shot back then craned his neck so he could spit on Harry's robe. He cried out in pure agony when Harry did as he'd promised and threw all of his weight onto Draco's wandhand.

Hermione's face twisted up in partial horror and disgust as she heard the crack-cracking of Draco's bones. She glanced from Draco up to Harry who appeared more than gleeful in what he'd done. The Harry she trusted had gone just as quickly as he'd came. You should've gotten Ron, she thought. Why didn't you?

"Did you think I was lying?" Harry asked. He removed his foot from Draco's hand, seized him by the robe with his free hand then yanked Malfoy to his feet. "Maybe you'll think twice about whom you try to kill next time."

Draco glared back at Harry with a hatred that no other could rival. He slid his eyes over to Hermione, who was gingerly getting to her feet. "Have to be careful of what sort you allow in these days, Potter," he snarled. His good hand cradled his mangled one as he looked back to Harry. "Isn't that right?"

Harry narrowed his gaze on Draco. He wanted him to say it, to give him an excuse to cause the rat more pain. Go on, he thought. Say it. You know you want to, Malfoy. You think you're so much better than she is.

Draco, though, could almost read Harry's thoughts. He kept his mouth shut about Hermione for once. "How did you find me?" he asked instead. "Did you kill a few people?" He smirked."I remember how much you enjoyed that back at school."

Harry shoved Draco back against the wall then pointed wand in Malfoy's face. "I recall promising you something then, didn't I?" His wrist rotated ever so slightly and he watched as Draco grew paler than he was before. "You know," he continued in a tone only Draco could hear. "I still wonder what it would be like to strip the flesh from a person." A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Do it, Harry, the voice urged from inside its cage deep inside of Harry's mind. Show him what power is. You know you want to. Look at him. He's terrified!

"Harry?"

He snapped out of his daze when he heard Hermione say his name. A moment later, her hand gently squeezed his shoulder.

She glanced at Draco who was petrified beyond words. She'd never seen him so scared. Her gaze flicked over to Harry. His profile was intense, almost like he was made of stone. "Harry, put it down," she calmly continued. She let her hand slide down his wand arm and applied pressure to it until, slowly, he did as she asked and lowered it. "He's not worth it. Don't."

Harry's grip on his wand loosened then he relaxed. The voice in his head grew silent once more and he let out a long, measured breath. He'd come so close - so very close - to mutilating Draco Malfoy. If Hermione hadn't stopped him when she did ...

"Where is your father, Draco?" Hermione asked once she'd managed to move Harry a few steps away from the younger Malfoy. "Is he here with you?" All I want to do is find him and get out of here. The quicker, the better.

Draco stared at her, gently massaging his wand arm at the wrist. "Upstairs," he shortly replied then nodded towards the staircase. "What's left of him, that is." He narrowed his eyes at Harry once again. "And it's your fault."

He grabbed Draco by the robe then shoved him towards the stairs. "We'll see whose fault it is when we get there, Malfoy." With another violent shove to Draco, he growled, "Move it."

Once upstairs, Draco led Harry and Hermione down the corridor to the left, past several open doors, almost all of them leading to another bedroom. At the end of the main corridor, they stopped at the only fully closed door. Draco didn't move, he only stood there, staring at the door in front of him. He kept massaging his wrist, his hatred for Potter growing with each passing second.

"Open it," Harry ordered, poking Draco in the middle of his back with his wand. "And, I swear, if you so much as twitch, Malfoy, I'll - "

"Harry," Hermione sharply whispered. She lifted her eyebrows when he looked at her. Her concern for him was at an all-time high. Being around Draco brought out the absolute worst in Harry. It always had. This wasn't what they needed, not now.

"Can I move now?" Draco asked, turning his head until he could see Harry in his peripheral view.

"Open the door," Hermione replied.

He did as instructed. The door slowly creaked open to reveal a room dimly illuminated by candlelight. He took a step forward and Harry matched it. Once he knew that moving forward wouldn't get him killed, Draco continued into the room. Inside, he moved to the far wall and leaned against it, placing the sole of his right foot to it as well.

"Over there," he told them, gesturing further into the room with his good hand. "There he is."

Hermione drew in a sharp breath at what she saw. Harry lowered his wand, a look of confusion on his face.

Lying in the dilapidated king sized four-poster bed was Lucius Malfoy. But it wasn't the man Hermione and Harry remembered from the Ministry. He was old, so old his pale skin was in folds on his face and what was visible of his arms. The long blond hair had gone ash. A man who couldn't have been more than 40 appeared to be 140 now.

"What ... what happened to him?" Hermione asked when she finally found her voice. She looked back to Draco who gazed at his father with a blank expression on his face. "Who did this?"

"Voldemort," he answered. His noted the disbelief on her face when he said it. "Oh, yes. This is what those who are disloyal to the Dark Lord are given." He looked back to his father, and for the first time, a genuine sadness crossed his pale features. "All of those years ... it doesn't even matter."

Harry approached the bed with his guard up. No matter what kind of show Draco put on, he wouldn't get caught unprepared. He tilted his head to one side as he studied Lucius Malfoy. Harry wasn't sure if the man was asleep or dead.

"It's a life force draining curse," Hermione quietly explained as she joined Harry. Her lips pursed. "I've read about it. It's not like any of the Unforgivable Curses. This takes weeks to run its course, slowly draining away a person's life. From ... from what I understand, it's a quite grueling in it's final stages."

Harry lowered his wand again, a feeling of pity for this pathetic excuse for a human being taking over. Lucius Malfoy had been a powerful presence in his previous days. The man had a stare that could cut right through a person. It had unnerved Harry in his second year at Hogwarts; he never forgot it.

The eyes of the elder Malfoy opened and then focused on Harry. A grin made it's way to Lucius's face. "Potter," he rasped. "Knew you ... would come." He coughed violently and that made Harry flinch.

"Father," Draco said as he came closer. He stopped when Lucius raised a hand to him. He then looked from his father to Harry, wondering exactly what it was that had turned the man against Voldemort.

"Why did Voldemort do this to you?" Harry asked.

Malfoy laughed noiselessly. "He ... he knows ... about you, boy," he whispered. His body grew weaker with every word he spoke. "You ... are the only ... threat now. He wants ... wants what you took ... from him."

Harry shook his head, brow furrowing in confusion. "I don't understand. What is it that I took from him? What could he possibly want from me?"

A hand shot out and seized Harry by his dusty black robe and Lucius Malfoy pulled him closer to him. Hermione made a move to help Harry but Harry lifted his own hand to keep her back. Breathing heavily, Malfoy raised his other hand, brushed away the hair on Harry's forehead to reveal the scar Voldemort had given him so many years ago.

"Something he needs to ... complete his journey back," Malfoy whispered. He closed his eyes briefly then focused on Harry's once he opened them again. "Something you took ... from him long ago."His wrinkled fingers pressed against Harry's scar. "He seeks you out, Potter. You are more valuable ... alive than dead ..." He fell into a fit of coughing.

Harry caught Lucius's hand in one of his own when it unlatched from his robe. He gently rested it on the bed by the dying man.

Malfoy drew in another breath, fighting for what little life still remained with him. He gazed up at the younger wizard. The boy had a concern in his eyes but something else - yes, something darker -hid just behind that. A small smile came and passed before Harry could even notice it.

"You ... can ... still ... defeat him," he said, his voice growing quieter. "Still ..."

"How?" Harry eagerly whispered. "How can I still defeat him?"

"You are ... of the same ... essence," Malfoy replied, his tone so quiet now that Draco could barely make out his father's words.

"How do I do it?" Harry asked once again.

Lucius gestured for Harry to come closer. When he was close enough, Malfoy's bony hand clamped onto the back of Harry's neck and drew him down towards him. "To kill him," he hissed in the young wizard's ear. "You ... must ... become him."

Harry blinked. What does that mean? Before he could ask Lucius, the man's hand slipped away from his neck and the final wisp of breath escaped his lips. He was gone. He stepped back from the side of the bed, staring down at the man he'd once considered his enemy. Why did he tell me that?

"Father?" Draco sat on the opposite side of the bed, taking one of Lucius's hands into his good one. He let his head bow down when he realized that the curse had taken what was left of Lucius may have feared his father, but he most certainly respected the man.

"Harry," Hermione whispered. She glanced at Lucius's body when her friend looked down at her. "What did he say to you?"

"I hope you're proud of yourself," Draco snarled as he glared at the both of them. He flicked a glance at his father's cane, sitting in the corner of the room but not visible to Harry or Hermione. "I'm all that's left of my family." He paused. "My mother was spared this." He gestured to his father's body. "Voldemort killed her quickly."

Hermione pressed her lips together. She never thought she'd feel sympathy towards Draco Malfoy, but she did now. He'd become an orphan of sorts because of Voldemort - his parents like Harry's.

"Should we bring him back with us?" she asked softly, looking to Harry. Mostly, she wanted to leave Draco alone. He wasn't much of a threat by himself and he certainly wouldn't be given a warm welcome by Voldemort or his followers. Her hand touched Harry's arm when he didn't reply. "Harry?"

"Of course he's coming with us," he shortly answered, giving her a side-glance. "I'm not leaving him here. He tried to kill us, in case you've forgotten."

Draco used that moment to lunge for his father's cane. He yanked the silver snake's head from the top of it, withdrawing the black wand from inside.

Hermione made the first move, calling out the words to a binding spell as she flicked her wand in Draco's direction. Invisible ropes lashed themselves around Draco's wrists, causing him to the drop the wand and cry out in pain. Another set bound his arms to his sides, with his hands in front of him.

He fidgeted in place but that quickly ceased when he discovered that every twitch irritated his already screaming wand hand. "You'd do well to finish me off, Mudblood," he hissed at Hermione.

She ignored him and lowered her wand. "What do we do about him?" She motioned to Lucius's body. No one deserved to be left alone like that - not even him. Still, they had Draco to contend with now and he was very much alive.

"We leave him," Harry replied. He tore his gaze away from Draco's long enough to look down at her. "The Ministry can deal with him once they know where to find him." He walked by her, rounded the foot of the bed and stopped by Draco. "Try anything like that again and I'll crush your other hand."

Draco only smirked in reply. He watched Harry tuck his and Draco's wands into his robe before picking up his father's wand and the rest of the cane.

When he rose up to his full height, Harry was inches away from the younger Malfoy; his eyes burned into his. He slipped the wand back into the cane "sheath". "Time to go," he evenly said. He grabbed Draco by the robes then shoved him towards the door. "Ladies first."

Hermione gave the remains of Lucius Malfoy once last glance then she followed Harry out of the room. She didn't like where this was headed. More than ever she wished she'd have involved Ron - before it became the wonderful mess it was now.

-

Ron Weasley paced back and forth in Hermione's living room. He'd arrived at her flat earlier than usual, four o'clock, to visit with her. Today, he'd hoped to have a very long, important and overdue discussion with her. His hands fumbled about in his pants pockets, the right one fingering a small box. However, the evening started off all wrong.

He'd come to the door, knocked and after no answer, he decided to try a little magic to get inside. The fact that Hermione was not home and had left up no barrier spells propelled him to his current state of worry. She never left her flat unsecured since she'd begun to work for the Ministry. Her duties as an Auror-in-training put her at risk from all sorts of undesirables.

"Meow." Crookshanks laced his way in-between Ron's legs when Ron stopped pacing.

He looked down at the cat. Crookshanks wasn't upset over Hermione's disappearance. Then he knew what exactly happened at the flat, though. Crookshanks wasn't like any other cat that Ron had known. He would've died protecting Hermione had someone forced his way into her flat. No signs of a struggle, either. She would never go without a fight. That just wasn't in her makeup.

The cat's head whipped around suddenly. He meowed once at the fireplace then bolted away from Ron.

Ron had no more than turned around when the fireplace came to life, spewing one, two, three different people forth. Due to the fact Hermione only used her fireplace for Floo travel, very little dirt and soot followed the arrivals into the living room.

"What the - ?" he began as the arrivals began to get their bearings. Relief washed over him when Hermione stood up, throwing her filthy hair out of her face. "Hermione!"

"Huh?" She gasped in surprise when Ron threw his arms around her in a tight hug. She blinked twice then asked, "Ron, what are you doing here?"

He stepped back, holding onto her shoulders with both hands. "You're all right! I was so worried. I come here, you're gone, and no barrier spells are up ... " He gave her another hug, one that she was able to return this time. "Where were you?"

Draco rolled his eyes and scoffed in pure disgust. "This is making me sick," he muttered. He slid his gaze over to Harry, noticing the change in him upon seeing Hermione and Ron together. His disgust quickly turned into amusement, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. So, the famous Harry Potter had more than a casual interest in Little Miss Perfect?

"... and so much happened," Hermione was rapidly explaining to Ron. She paused to catch her breath and she motioned to Harry and Draco. "Now we're back here. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you what was going on, Ron. There wasn't time. Everything ... everything happened too fast. I never meant to worry you."

Ron turned, looked from Harry to Draco Malfoy, who stood to Harry's left. He'd taken in a lot over the last few minutes. Too much, really. Lucius Malfoy was dead at Voldemort's hands, the Malfoys were no longer allied with the Dark Lord and Draco was to be a guest?

"I think I need to sit down," he finally managed to say. He landed on the sofa with a soft thump, shaking his head. Anything he'd planned to say to Hermione before then was nothing more than a memory. The situation had become very complicated. More complicated than any other in recent history.

"Ron ..." She sat down next to him, a hand resting on one of his. She remembered Harry and Draco. With one look, she let Harry know that they would need a few minutes by themselves.

With a nod, Harry relented to her wishes. Using Lucius's cane, he hit Draco in his right leg then motioned to the doorway which lead to Hermione's small kitchen. Sneering, Draco did as commanded and moved forward. Harry followed him without uttering one word.

"Sit down," he said, pulling out a chair for the younger Malfoy. To his surprise, Draco did as ordered with no guff. He took a seat on the opposite side of the table, his fingers mindlessly caressing the silver snake head on the cane. He'd never expected Ron to be there. Of all the day she had to leave work early, he chose today.

Draco eyed Harry very carefully. Potter's entire manner had changed since they'd arrived at Hermione's flat, with Ron Weasley waiting with worry like the stupid prat he was. He wondered why he'd never noticed Harry's interest in Granger before. Unless it was a recent development,yet he didn't believe it was.

"Do you plan to take this off of me?" he finally asked, breaking the cold silence between them. When Harry looked at him, he nodded to himself, meaning the spell Hermione had placed on him. "Not as though I can do any harm. You have all the wands ... remember?"

Drawing his own wand, Harry paused before saying, "What's the magic word?"

Arrogant git, Malfoy thought.

"Please," he dryly replied. Once Harry removed the spell, he lifted his arms, wincing as a searing pain shot all the way up his right arm. Gently, he rested his injured hand, now swelled to nearly twice its normal size, on the table. "You know, you could get into quite a bit of trouble for this." He nodded to his hand. "Rules and all."

"Report me." Harry stuffed his wand back underneath his robe.

Draco scoffed lightly then proceeded to examine his hand. Harry had done a number on it, that was certain. If he had his wand, he could've taken care of it within a matter of seconds. The chances of him getting it back were slim to nil.

"Shouldn't you check on them?" he inquired, impatiently, meaning Hermione and Ron. "Let them sort out their personal troubles later. Preferably when I'm no longer around." He waited for some response but Harry only sat there, staring straight ahead. "You really have no authority to hold me. I've done nothing wrong as far as the Ministry is concerned."

Harry tapped the end of the cane against the floor, pretending as though Draco hadn't said a word. The Ministry was the furthest thing from his mind at this moment. Aside from Ron's unwelcome appearance, he'd been dwelling on what the elder Malfoy said to him before dying.

'To kill him, you must become him.'

What did it mean? How on earth did he become Voldemort? How so? In what respect? He cursed the man for leaving him with a riddle instead of a straight bloody answer.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked yet," Draco said, bringing Harry out of his thoughts. "About my father, why he turned his back on Voldemort. I thought the curiosity would've been killing you."

"Not particularly," he flatly responded as he looked over to Draco. "But if you feel the need to share your sad story, you go right on ahead."

"He didn't believe Voldemort could defeat you. If you ever faced him again, that is." He shifted in the chair, careful not to jostle his right arm too much in the process. "The last two years, my father changed his mind a lot about you, Potter. Ever since I told him about your exploits during seventh year."

Harry's eyes narrowed slightly at him.

Draco managed a smug grin. "He enjoyed the tale of how you disposed of your Muggle relatives," he went on. "And was very impressed, indeed, with the demise of the innocent, trusting Ginny Weasley. The one that truly grabbed him? When you almost killed your two mates out there."

"You utter one more word ..." Harry began as he rose to his feet and leaned across the table in Malfoy's direction.

He showed no fear of Harry, then simply replied, "You asked."

Slowly, Harry sat back down, his eyes never leaving Draco's. He wanted to curse the pale annoyance in such a way that he would beg for death, a death that Harry would refuse to grant to him.

"You see," Draco casually continued, relaxing in his chair as Harry sat back down in his. "Lord Voldemort didn't have one attachment in his entire existence. Never had a single human being he cared for more than himself. He didn't have any friends. So he'd never tried to kill them."

He has a good point, Harry, the voice murmured. One I've been trying to make for ages.

"Harry?"

Hermione's voice made both Draco and Harry turn in their chairs. The intensity in the room dissolved in that moment, yet Harry remained even more troubled by what he'd been told by Malfoy. If it was even the truth.

Hermione glanced from one wizard to the other. She'd missed something while she'd been explaining the current situation in more detail to Ron. They expression on Harry's face said it all ... just before it vanished behind the stoic one that he almost always wore. For a moment, she tried to recall the last time a smile - a true smile - had been on Harry's face.

"Is everything sorted, then?" Harry asked.

"Yes, it is," Ron answered as he appeared in the doorway behind Hermione. He looked from Harry to Draco then nodded. "I may not like it, but it's been sorted."

"Harry, I think we should turn Draco over to the Ministry, along with all of the information we managed to obtain from Lucius Malfoy before he ... before he died," Hermione evenly and calmly said. She was prepared to argue about it. This time, however, she would hold her ground. Her chin lifted as she waited for his response.

"It's the best way to handle this, Harry," Ron agreed.

There's a surprise, Harry thought when Ron voiced his support of Hermione's idea. He shifted his gaze over to Malfoy. The blond wore a faint, sly grin, one that Ron and Hermione didn't see since he now had his back to them.

A long silence passed before Harry sighed. "All right," he said. He nodded. "You're right. We'll do it. Obviously, the situation has changed. And maybe Draco can provide other valuable information for the Ministry."

"I have plenty of secrets about people, Potter," Draco put in, the grin growing wider and darker. He rather enjoyed how he could irritate Harry with a few well placed comments. He'd suffered countless humiliations at Harry's hands in the past and payback was worth his wait.

"Well ..." Hermione hadn't expected it to go that smoothly. She glanced back at Ron who just shrugged. He, too, thought Harry would put up a fight. Then again, he would've been fighting to keep Malfoy around.

"We should hurry," Ron said. He gestured to the clock. "Fudge is more than likely still at the Ministry building." He and Hermione vanished from the doorway.

"Get up," Harry snapped as he stood. When Draco rose up to his feet, he seized the wrist of Draco's injured arm and lifted up the hand until it was between them. He used Lucius's wand to repair the damage he'd done to Draco's hand. "There," he said as he let go of Malfoy's wrist. "No evidence of foul play."

Draco flexed the fingers of the newly repaired hand. "Perhaps my father was right about you." He met Harry's eyes, the smile reappearing.

Harry slid the wand back into the cane then laid it on Hermione's table and drew his own. "Walk."

"I'm not leaving without my father's wand," Draco firmly replied. He glanced down at the black cane. "I'm certainly not letting you have it."

"To the victor goes the spoils. Now walk before I make you."

Draco's eyes darkened briefly then he turned and left the kitchen. Before following, Harry took one last look at the cane lying on the table.

-

Several hours later, Hermione, Harry and Ron returned to Hermione's flat. Their trip back had been quiet. The visit to the Ministry and the discussion with Fudge and several other officials in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was anything but. Fudge was furious that Harry hadn't come to the Ministry straight away with the whereabouts of Lucius Malfoy. Hermione received her share of his wrath, too, when he learned she'd gone along with Harry's plans.

"I expected much more from you, Miss Granger. Much more!"

Sighing, she removed her dirty robes and flung them onto her sofa. Looking from Harry to Ron, she saw they were equally exhausted. The evening had been incredibly long. "I could use a cup of tea," she quietly said then left the two of them standing in the middle of her living room.

While Hermione clanked and clinked about in her kitchen, Ron sat down on the sofa. "Ow," he muttered when something in his pocket dug into his hip. He pulled out the small black box and shook his head when he remembered why he'd left work early that day.

"What's that?" Harry inquired as he sat down on the opposite end of the sofa. He already had his suspicions of what it was, though.

Ron glanced at Harry then he shrugged. "I planned on a very different sort of evening," he replied as he toyed with the box in his hands. He opened it up then held it out to his friend. "I never mentioned anything about it before, because I wasn't ... I wasn't sure if I was going to go through with it."

Harry stared at the simple gold band contained within the box. It wasn't much of a ring, probably the best thing Ron could afford, still it was a ring. He didn't say anything as he took it from Ron. A finger brushed over the golden surface which shimmered brightly at Harry's touch. This was inevitable, he figured, as close as Hermione and Ron had become over the past two years. These days, he felt more like a third wheel than a friend around them.

"Maybe I should've said something to you, Harry," Ron continued as he watched Harry examine the ring. "The way things have been around the Ministry and with Vol - ... well, you know." He sighed heavily. "I thought if I waited much longer ... "

"I understand, Ron," he said as he snapped the box shut. He looked to his friend, trying to offer a smile. He should be happy, right? Isn't that was he was supposed to feel? This was always meant to be, ever since the day Hermione Granger met Ron Weasley on the train to Hogwarts. "Times like these ... you have to set your priorities straight."

Ron nodded as he accepted the box back from Harry. "I thought that's what you'd say."

"Did either of you want a cup of tea?" Hermione asked as she appeared in the doorway.

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm fine."

"I could use one," Ron replied as he stood up, shoving the box into his pocket without her noticing it. "I need something after what we've been through tonight."

"Harry, did you plan to stay a bit?" she inquired once Ron had entered the kitchen. She hoped he would. His behavior at the mansion concerned her a great deal. If he slipped back under the control of that spell from three years earlier, they had even less hope of defeating the Dark Lord.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Haven't anywhere else to be."

"Good."

"What's this?" asked Ron as he took a seat at the table with his cup of tea. He picked up the black cane that had belonged to Lucius Malfoy. He looked from it to Hermione then Harry who pulled out the chair that Draco had used earlier. "Is this ... is this Malfoy's cane?"

"Yes." Harry reached across the table and took it from Ron's hands. "Draco wanted to take it with him but I wouldn't let him have it." He let the end of the cane rest on the floor as he gazed down at the silver snake's head atop it. "I decided to keep it instead."

"What on earth do you want that for, Harry?" asked Ron, eyes wide in disbelief at what he'd heard. He gave Hermione a glance as she sat down by him with her own tea. "Bit of a morbid choice of keepsake, if you ask me."

"He doesn't need it any longer now, does he?" Harry said as he removed the wand from the cane. He held it up, admiring how the black wood gleamed under the light.

The other two exchanged a glance. Ron now understood completely what she'd told him about Harry's odd behavior. Definitely a feeling of deja vu from their last year at school. Not this time, though. He refused to lose his friend to that dark spell again.

"Harry ... " Hermione cautiously started as she watched him more closely examine the cane portion of the wand's sheath. "You never did answer my question. About what Malfoy said to you before he died."

He acted as though he didn't hear her and continued to peer at the cane, rather impressed by the deviousness of the thing. When he tilted it to the left, he caught sight of something pale yellow further down in the hollow center of the cane. He shoved his index finger down into it, pressing it to the yellow area. It was parchment. A piece of parchment was in Malfoy's cane.

"Harry, are you even listening to me?"

"There's a piece of paper in here," he said, ignoring her questions. He wetted his finger with his tongue then plunged it back into the cane. After some maneuvering, he gently slid his finger out, bringing the roll of parchment with it. Just as gently, he unrolled the small paper and read what was contained within it.

Ron leaned forward. "What is it?"

Harry stared at the paper, unable to believe what he'd found written upon it. It made sense now. Lucius Malfoy's riddle. The answer to it was in his hands. "It's ... it's a spell," he quietly replied then looked over to them. "It's a spell."

"What spell?" Hermione reached a hand out. "Let me see it."

He gave it to her without hesitation. He watched her as she read the words written upon the scroll. Her expression melted from one of curiosity to one of horror. "Harry ... " She shook her head as lifted her gaze from the paper. "I ... this ..." She couldn't find the words nor did she know where to begin. What they had in their possession, it was unlike anything else.

"Let me see." Ron took the paper from her then read it over. "Essentia Consumere?" He shook his head, eyes squinting at the words. "I've never even heard of this." He looked at Harry and Hermione. "But I'm sure the two of you have. What is it?"

"It's very ancient, very dangerous black magic," she explained in a whisper. She took the scroll back from him, holding it like it was something fragile. "It's also extremely illegal. The Unforgivable Curses ... they don't even begin to compare to what this curse does. Simply having this -" She wagged the paper. " - it's enough to land a witch or wizard in Azkaban."

"So ... it's a very bad curse, I get that. What ... does ... it ... do?"

She gritted her teeth. Even speaking of such a curse was dangerous. Being in their particular line of work, she and Harry had learned about things, about magics so powerful and dark, they could cause horrific nightmares. Yet if they told a soul outside of their department about any of it, the consequences would be severe.

"This curse, Ron, it's ... " She couldn't bring herself to tell him about it. Her head bowed and she turned away from him, almost embarrassed have knowledge of something so evil. "I can't," she finished in a whisper.

"It's similar to the one Voldemort used to kill Lucius Malfoy," Harry explained when Hermione refused to do so. He continued when he had Ron's full attention. "Essentia Consumere - essence absorption. When cast, the curse drains away all of the power of another witch or wizard and ... it transfers it to the caster. What remains of the victim, it's little less than a Muggle. The identity, the essence, it's all stripped away from the person. Do you see why it's illegal? So illegal that hardly anyone even knows of its existence?"

Ron sat back in his chair, stunned. In all of his life he'd never even imagined such magic could exist in their world. The hole, it seemed, ran much deeper than most magic folk knew. Or would care to know.

"Why would Malfoy have something like this? Was he planning to use it?" he asked, looking from Harry to Hermione. "Does ... You-Know-Who know about this?"

"I don't know," Hermione whispered, shrugging her shoulders. "In fact, no one's really certain what dark magics he's privy to. Mostly it's hearsay or a mystery."

"He could have this spell too?" The panic was more than evident in his tone. "He could be suckin' the power from others while we're sittin' here, is that what you're sayin'?"

"I haven't any idea, Ron!" she exclaimed as she stood up. She began to pace the floor, chewing on one of her fingernails. The notion terrified her. If Voldemort did have knowledge of the Essentia Consumere curse ... She closed her eyes, trying to convince herself that he didn't. He couldn't. Could he?

"Well, I dunno about you two, but this scares the bloody hell out of me," Ron continued. "If Lucius Malfoy can get his hands on a copy of it, who's to say Vo - ... he couldn't?"

"I don't believe he does, Ron," Harry calmly commented after a moment. He look at the scroll lying in the middle of the table then to the hollow cane gripped in his right hand. 'You can still defeat him,' Lucius had said.

"What makes you so sure of that? How can you know?"

Hermione stopped pacing and turned around. She saw the look on Harry's face, in his eyes. It was the old Harry, their trusted friend. She found comfort in having that Harry back again, the one who cared about other people, and about them.

He picked up the scroll as he placed the cane on the table. "Because of what he said to me before he died," he explained. "He told me when we walked into the room that he knew I would find him."

Slowly, Hermione slid back down into her chair, nodding as Harry spoke.

"It wasn't by chance that I learned where he was. He wanted to be found by me. And for a reason."

"And that would be?" Ron prompted when Harry fell silent.

"This." He wagged the scroll. "For some reason -" Don't lie, Harry, the voice chastised. " - Malfoy turned on Voldemort. He wanted to be certain that Voldemort would be defeated for good." He placed the scroll back onto the table, looked each straight in the eye. "This was meant for me. Malfoy probably planned on giving it to me before the curse of Voldemort's finish it's work."

A quiet descended upon the trio. Neither Hermione nor Ron wanted to believe what Harry had said. Yet Hermione found the logic in his reasoning as she recalled the meeting with the elder Malfoy. It certainly followed Draco's commentary on the matter. In his eyes, this was Harry's fault. His father deserted Voldemort to help the evil wizard's mortal enemy.

But why? she wondered. She supposed the why wasn't important now. They would never know the answer since the man was dead.

"I don't get something, Harry," Ron said, his quiet tone breaking the silence. "Why would he want to give you a curse you'd never use?" His brow furrowed. "It doesn't make sense."

"Ron's right," Hermione put in. "That's the one flaw in your theory. Why did he believe that you would ever use such a thing? Even if it was against ... him?"

Think she forgot that night in the library, Harry? The voice laughed with perverse amusement. What was that spell you used against Ron? I can't recall.

"I can't imagine why," Harry finally lied in response. That only made the voice cackle harder.

"Oh, Harry, you ... you never once thought of actually using it, did you?" Hermione's eyes opened a little wider.

"Well ... " He let his gaze fall on the yellow scroll. "Maybe it crossed my mind ... for the briefest of moments."

Liar.

Shut up, he ordered the voice.

"Have you gone mad?" Ron exclaimed, about two levels shy of shouting. "Use this thing?" He motioned to the scroll, afraid to even touch it since he learned what it was.

"It was only a thought," Harry shot back, defensively.

"I'm shocked that you even had it!"

Harry shoved back his chair noisily as he stood up. "We don't have a lot of options left this time. What do you suggest we do against Voldemort? The last thing that nearly destroyed him isn't available to us. My mother can only sacrifice herself once, you know!"

"And that makes it morally okay to use a curse that's so damned bad hardly anyone knows it even exists?"

"Morals don't apply when amoral beings are involved, Ron!" He'd lost all control of his temper now. He didn't deserved to be judged. Least of all by Ron Weasley.

"Hey!" Hermione yelled as she stood up, her hands balled into fists. "Enough! All right?" In a much calmer tone, she continued. "I don't want you two yelling another word at each other. Are you clear on that?" She looked at Ron then to Harry. "Are you?"

Harry didn't reply. He only tore off his already open robe in bridled frustration and threw it back onto his chair.

"My God," she sighed as she loosened up her hands. She shook her head in wonder. "I'm not going to tolerate fighting between you two. This is a grave matter. Shouting won't solve the problem any faster." She waited a moment while giving each a hard stare. "Are you both going to be civil?"

Ron muttered something under his breath as he shifted in his chair. Harry shrugged his shoulders but continued to remain mute.

"Good. Now that's settled. We'll deal with the curse." She sat back down in her chair and let out a tired breath. "As tempting as it would be to use, Harry, you shouldn't." He looked at her. "Before you say anything, please, just listen to me." Her hands folded together in her lap and she gave herself a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking. "It's not so much the moral question of it, but the question of what would become of you should you use it."

Ron lifted his head, his eyes flicking from Hermione to Harry. Still, he said nothing.

"You both seem to forget the nature of this curse. Harry, if you absorbed Voldemort, how do you think that would affect you? You would have it all. Is that something you could handle?"

'To kill him, you must become him', Malfoy's words resonated in Harry's mind.

He bowed his head and stared at the floor. He'd given that consideration, albeit very short consideration, and decided that it was a chance he was willing to take.

"We'd lose you." Her tone was full of honest sadness. "We don't want that to happen." Not again, she added in her head.

"We haven't much choice," he quietly replied. His placed a hand to his forehead, brushing over his scar then he looked at his friends. "Somehow, you've always known that it would end this way. Happy endings are for stories, not real life."

"I happen to fancy a happy ending," Ron said. He sat up straight in his chair. "I'm not one to accept anything less. We've come through a lot in nine years, and I plan to do a lot more in the next nine. And, sorry, Harry, you're a part of it."

He nodded a bit. He wouldn't win this fight. Not now. They couldn't understand his position. He'd already been on Voldemort's side. Even now, it constantly called to him to return. That voice, that damned voice, never shut up. He knew what taking on Voldemort's powers meant. The only question in his mind was could he hold on long enough to end his own life before it took serious hold on him?

"Here's what we do," said Hermione after several uncomfortable moments of silence. "We destroy the curse and we never speak to anyone about any of this. It never happened."

Ron nodded in agreement. "I'm all for that. The faster, the better as far as I'm concerned."

"You've already decided for us, it seems," Harry said when Hermione looked to him for his answer. "Go ahead. Destroy it. We'll forget this ever happened."

But I won't, whispered the voice.

Hermione drew her wand and pointed it at the scroll in the center of the table. After a pause, she declared, "Inflamare!" The paper burst into flames and became a pile of ash in a matter of seconds.

As soon as it was destroyed, Ron relaxed. "That's done with," he sighed then rubbed his eyes with fingers, realizing exactly how late it was and how tired he'd become.

Hermione clutched her wand in both hands. "We'll figure out something, Harry," she assured him. "Tomorrow. When we go back to the Ministry, we'll see if Draco gave them anything we could possibly use."

Harry only looked away. He didn't believe for one second that Draco Malfoy would ever have anything that valuable to tell. What little chance they had to defeat Voldemort had gone up inflames on the table before them.

"I suppose I should go home then," Ron said after a minute. He remembered the box in his pocket. Definitely bad timing tonight, Ron, he thought. More than bad, bloody horrible. "That is ... unless you want me to stay?"

Hermione smiled. "I appreciate the gesture, but I'll be perfectly fine."

Ron blushed a little as he stood. "Can't help it," he told her. "I always forget that anyone stupid enough to come after you would regret it rather quickly."

She shoved his arm. "You aren't funny," she said, only half-seriously. "Come on. You'd better leave before I cast some sort of spell on you." She left the kitchen.

Ron stopped in front of Harry. "Look ... what I said earlier," he began in a soft tone.

Harry waved a hand, silencing Ron before he could get any further. "It's done with. Like you said. None of it even happened." He let his hand drop. "Just ... don't think on it, all right?"

He smiled slightly. "Done." If anything, they'd managed to dig up some of the old Harry because of this mess. Always a silver lining to every black cloud. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Harry nodded and Ron vanished into the living room to say his goodbyes to Hermione. Quietly and carefully, he peered around the corner when he heard the door open. They spoked in hushed tones. Once finished, Hermione pushed herself up on her tip-toes to place a kiss on Ron's lips. When she pulled back, she smiled up at him. Leaning back against the wall, that resentment towards Ron stirred deep inside of him. He tried to not let it get to him but it wouldn't let go. The knife twisted a little more, a little harder.

You should forget about them. Remember what happened the last time? A laugh followed.

Yeah. You finally shut up, Harry shot back.

The laughter immediately ceased. You'll need me soon enough, Harry. I'll wait. It isn't as though I'm going anywhere.

"You'll be leaving, too, then?" Hermione said as she reentered the kitchen. She set to cleaning up the table and the things she'd left out from making tea.

"I suppose," he answered, his tone very dull.

She opened the cabinet then turned. "I certainly don't mind if you stay, Harry." She placed the tea ingredients onto the shelves. "A lot happened today. Maybe being alone isn't what you need right now."

"You really wouldn't mind?" If he went home, the only company he would have would be that voice. And it wasn't a positive influence.

"Not at all." She closed the cabinet door and came over to him. "But with one condition." She patted his shoulder, causing a puff of dust in the air between them. "You have to take a bath." She smiled.

-

"Harry ... Potter ..."

The hissing voice made Harry's eyes open very slowly. He blinked once and scanned the area in front of him. He was no longer in Hermione's living room, lying on her comfortable sofa. Now he was in some sort of dark dungeon. Fiery torches lined the walls, crackling loudly and casting eerie shadows along the floor. A musty smell greeted him as he sat up on the stone floor, and just behind that smell was the stench of death.

Something moved in the darkness to his right and he reached for his wand only to discover he didn't have it. He was defenseless. As he rose up to his feet, he kept his eye on the patches of shadow surrounding him. He was not alone in this place.

"Who is there?" he asked.

"An old friend," the voice responded in that hissing tone. "It's been a long time since we've seen one another, my boy. You may not recognize me."

"Why don't you come out, then?" Harry replied, turning towards the sound of the stranger's voice.

"You'll be frightened," he answered, the voice now from somewhere behind Harry. "You always were." The sound of a deep breath being drawn followed. "Even now ... I feel it."

"Maybe you're the one who's scared," Harry said, turning in place. He squinted at the spot along the wall when a soft chuckled filled the chamber. "Why else would you be hiding from me?" He stopped when he sensed a dark presence behind him. He knew who this "old friend" was. "Perhaps you think I'll finish you off this time around ... Voldemort."

Two bony hands with fingernails like the claws of a wild animal's rested on Harry's shoulders then turned him around. The Dark Lord stood there, looking much more human than he had at the Tri-Wizard Tournament six year earlier. The eyes remained snake-like, though, and appeared to glow in the darkness.

"Trust me, my boy, you will not have another chance to do so," he whispered. One hand gripped Harry by the back of the neck and pulled him closer while the other hand lifted from Harry's shoulder, and a fingernail lightly scratched down the younger man's face. Soon, a smile crossed the old wizard's pale lips.

"You shouldn't be so sure of that," he growled in reply, his eyes locked with Voldemort's. "I'm a lot different than I was back then. You should be scared of me."

Voldemort laughed. "Such courage in the face of the most powerful wizard to ever exist," he purred. He tightened his grip on Harry's neck, the claws digging into the soft skin. "But you shouldn't fool yourself, boy. Anything, any great power that you possess, it never belonged to you. It's mine. When you find me ... I'll have it ... back."

Harry winced as the scar on his forehead began to burn. He felt a warm liquid ooze from it, down his nose, his cheek then his neck. Voldemort's free hand pressed to the scar then he held his hand, glistening with Harry's blood, between the two of them.

"I'll finish what I started at that Tournament. And when I am done, there will be nothing left of you." His hand closed into a fist then dropped to his side as he pulled Harry even closer. He leaned forward, his face just inches from the younger wizard's. "Your time ... and that of your friends ... is running out."

-

Harry drew in a gulp of air as he sat bolt upright on the sofa. Breathing heavily, he glanced around the darkened living room. It had all been in his mind. Voldemort had been able to manifest himself so clearly. Never had that happened before. It was more disturbing than anything else he'd ever experienced at Voldemort's hands.

"Ah," he murmured, his fingers pressing against his throbbing scar. Withdrawing them, he looked down at them by chance. His fingers slightly trembled. Blood, fresh blood, stained them. Absently, he rubbed them together, the warmth of his own blood barely registering with him.

'When you find me ... ' the Dark Lord's voice echoed . 'Your time ... and that of your friends ... is running out.'

"Hermione," he breathed. He jumped to his feet and ran down the hallway to her bedroom. "Hermione!" He threw open her door then stopped suddenly when he saw her bed empty. "Oh no ... no ..."

From the looks of it, she'd been taken by force. Some of her quills and books were scattered across the floor, her blankets were strewn about as well, and a few scorch marks left behind by missed spells scarred the walls. Unfortunately, she wasn't strong enough to escape from her kidnapper. Or kidnappers. Somehow, he believed it would've taken more than one person to successfully kidnap someone like Hermione.

"Meow ..." Came the agonized mewl of Crookshanks. Limping, the cat emerged from the opposite side of the room. His fur was splotched in places with dried blood. He lifted his head and looked up at Harry almost apologetically. As if to say he'd tried but he couldn't stop them from taking her away.

"Crookshanks," he whispered as he approached the cat.

The cat hissed, stopping him in his tracks. Then he vanished out of the room, running down the hallway.

He kidnapped her, Harry thought as he flicked his eyes around the bedroom of his friend. While he was screwing around in my head, he used the opportunity to kidnap her.

"Ron!" He remembered Voldemort had said "friends". He dashed down the hallway again. As soon as he reached the living room, he came to an abrupt halt.

Standing there, with Lucius's black cane in his hands and a gleam in his eyes, was Draco. He tightened his grip on the snake's head of the cane, the creak of the black leather gloves the only sound in the room. Malfoy looked paler than usual in the grand black robes, and he looked more like his father than ever.

Harry took a side step for his own robe that lay near the end of the sofa then stopped when Draco brought out Harry's wand from underneath his robe, a smile on his face.

"Looks as though I have all the wands this time, Potter," he quietly said, the smile on his face growing wider. He didn't point the wand at Harry, however, only made him quite aware that it was in his possession. "You are such a fool, you know."

"Really now? What makes you say that?"

Draco came closer. "You honestly believed the Ministry of Morons could hold me?" He stopped a few feet away, resting the end of the cane on the floor, a smirk planted on his face. "You made your mistake in giving me over to them. Made it all the more easy for my Lord to help me."

"Voldemort?" Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "He ... he helped you?"

"Of course he did. I'm not my father. He may have turned against Voldemort, but I still pledge my undying loyalty to him." A gloved hand rested against his own chest. "I still have complete confidence he will destroy you. Do you know why, Potter? Because you haven't the guts for this battle. You never will."

"Where's Hermione?"

Draco smiled. "The Mudblood? She's keeping Lord Voldemort company, along with that silly git Weasley. Don't worry," he said before Harry could even ask the question. "They're both very much alive. It would be pointless to kill them. Hope of saving them is what will bring you to Voldemort. Right?"

"If you hurt either of them ..."

"Empty threats and we both know it," he interrupted, rolling his eyes a bit. "There was a time when I would've believed you capable of carrying them out. Not any longer." He looked down at Harry's wand clutched in his hand. "If you want to spare them a horrible, agonizing death, you'll come to Lord Voldemort ... and give yourself up."

"Where are they?" Harry demanded as Malfoy pivoted neatly on his heel and headed for the door. "Malfoy!"

He half-turned. "If you're not careful, history will be doomed to repeat itself." He tossed Harry his wand which Harry neatly caught in his right hand. He smiled slightly. "Been a long time since you've been home, hasn't it?"

Harry resisted the urge to kill Draco, as difficult as it was. "Where ... are ... they?"

"You already know. See you soon." With that, Malfoy Dispparated out of the room.

-

The Potter home in Godric's Hollow hadn't been lived in since Lily and James Potter were murdered on that Halloween night by Voldemort. Even now, in the early morning hours of a late spring day, the memory of that terrible evening hung over the place. It's simple white fence had begun to rot away and fall apart years ago. The weeds snaked up around what was left of the unkept, weatherbeaten cottage. If not for the glow of candlelight in the lower level windows, one would never believe a human being would dare enter such a building.

The wind blew lightly, fluttering Harry's robes and making the gate of the fence creak quietly. He stared up at the house he did not remember yet it held the familiarity of a family home to him. Through the flashes of his parents, he recalled a time when he'd lived here. And a time when he'd almost died there.

Wand tucked underneath his robe in a place he could easily draw it, Harry pushed open the gate and headed towards the house. The stairs yawned underneath his feet as he stepped onto the porch. At the front door, he came to a stop. Behind the door lay his future. He didn't have the slightest idea what his future held. More than facing Voldemort, that unknown terrified him.

He pushed open the door which creaked steadily on its hinges until it finally stood open. Inside the house, the place resembled the mansion he and Hermione had found Lucius Malfoy hiding was without its damage, whatever was left.

He entered the house, keeping a keen eye out for anyone who might be considered a threat. The floor boards squeaked with each step he took forward, moving towards the source of the candlelight. Turning left, he came into the small living room. Probably, years ago, it was homey and warm, full of the comfort that James and Lily Potter found in one another despite the ugly times in which they lived. Bubbling over a well stoked fireplace was a large black cauldron full of a stinking liquid mixture. Someone was definitely calling the old Potter place "home" today.

He removed his wand from under his robe. Where are you, Voldemort? he wondered. The fear inside of him was becoming difficult to control. He felt the Dark Lord's presence in the house and so strongly it was as though he were standing next to him. His eyes shifted to his left when he heard a soft female groan. Relief flooded him when he saw Hermione, hands bound together by a spell,sitting in a corner of the room.

"Hermione," he said in a hushed voice, moving to where she stirred. On his hands and knees, he looked her over. She was in her nightdress but, save for a few scrapes and cuts, she was in good condition. "Hermione, it's Harry. Are you all right?"

Her eyes opened and worked to focus on him. When she made out Harry's face, she managed a smile. "Harry ... you're ... alive," she hoarsely replied. The smile vanished as she coughed a few times.

"Hermione." He placed a hand to her cheek and gently tilted her head so she would look at him. "Do you know where Ron is?"

She nodded then looked to her left. "Over there. I think ... I think he's been hurt pretty badly."

He turned in the direction she'd indicated. No doubt Ron appeared much worse off than she was. He was slumped in the corner, in the shadows, near the crackling fireplace. The small trails of blood from his nose and the awful paleness of Ron's skin said enough about how he'd fared.

"Let me get you out of this," he whispered, turning back to her. He raised his wand, aiming for her wrists.

"No!" She pushed his wand away, shaking her head. "Don't. He's done something to the spell. He said if anyone else tried to take it off, the results would be disastrous."

"You believe him?"

"I haven't much choice." She pressed her lips together then swallowed. "Please ... make sure Ron's ..."

He nodded. "I will. Don't move. I'll get us out of this mess. I promise." With that said, he crawled over to Ron. "Ron ... " He put a hand to the motionless form. "Ron!"

Only a small groan came from the redhead.

"It's me." He ran his hand down to his friend's wrists, muttering under his breath when he discovered Ron's hands were bound as well. "Ron. Wake up."

Very slowly, Ron's eyes opened. He barely had the energy to lift his head so he could look at the person speaking to him. "Harry?" he asked in a barely audible voice. "Is it ... really you?"

"Yes, it is." He moved Ron, helping him to lean up against the wall straighter. He glanced around, wondering where in the hell Voldemort was. "I'm here to help you."

Ron smiled slightly then winced. "Glad to see you back, Harry," he said. "Worried about losing you."

Harry didn't have to ask what Ron'd meant by that. Instead, he said, "Have you seen Voldemort at all?"

Ron's eyes widened briefly. "Yes. He did this to me." He tried to move on his own but that only caused unbearable pain. "Hermione ... she okay?"

"She's fine." He paused as he looked around the room. "I'm getting you both out of here. Then I'll deal with Voldemort."

"Or perhaps you'll deal with him now," said Draco's voice.

Before Harry could even move, Malfoy shouted, "Crucio!" The blast from the wand threw him away from Ron and he landed roughly on the floor in front of the fireplace. The unbelievable pain from the curse coursed through his body. All his mind could think about was the pure torture every single cell was subjected to.

Draco laughed as he watched Harry writhe about on the floor below him. He lowered his wand, cocking his head to one side. "Who isn't much of a wizard now, Potter? I don't hear you laughing,only your whimpering."

"Is that any way to treat a young man at his homecoming?" asked Voldemort as he entered the room. He smiled upon Harry who was on his back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the residual effects of the curse. "You kill him, Master Malfoy, and he's useless to me." His hand clamped on Draco's shoulder then he roughly shoved the blond aside. His snake-like eyes narrowed on the surviving Malfoy. "You would do well to stay that wand of yours."

"I'm sorry, my Lord," Draco apologized, one hand rubbing his shoulder where Voldemort had grabbed him.

"I plan to enjoy my time with Mr. Potter," Voldemort continued as he looked down at Harry again. A wicked smile cracked the face of the evil wizard. "We have so much in common, do we not?"

"I'm nothing like you," Harry growled through gritted teeth.

Be careful of whom you lie to, Harry, the voice warned.

Voldemort drew his wand and pointed it at him. "I suppose you're right. You'll never be as powerful as I am. You haven't the stomach for it." With a gesture and a quick utterance of a spell, Voldemort moved Harry from the floor and into a ratted armchair nearby. Another spell kept Harry firmly in his place of honor.

He struggled against his magical bonds, his eyes darkening when Voldemort picked up his wand from the floor and began to carefully examine it.

"It's rather amusing, isn't it?" he said as he looked over the wand. "How so many things link the two of us together. Our wands, our blood, our pasts ... even this house." He leveled his gaze on Harry. "But tonight ... I intend to sever every tie which links me ... to you."

Harry watched in horror as Voldemort snapped his wand in half with one hand. Eyes wide, he followed the remains of his wand as they clattered quietly onto the floor at Voldemort's feet.

Draco grinned at the shock on Harry's face. This was much more entertaining than anything else he'd been witness to so far. After the way Harry had treated him the day before, he only hoped Voldemort would allow him his own satisfaction.

"And so it begins," the Dark Lord said. He stepped over the pieces of Harry's wand and over to the bubbling cauldron. "This ... will be instrumental in retrieving my power from you." He breathed in the steam of the sludge. "All it requires is every single drop of your blood."

Harry looked from Voldemort to the cauldron. Hope struck him. He doesn't have the curse, he thought. He glanced at Draco. Draco must've not known about it either. Surely he would've passed such important information on to Voldemort. He tried not to smile. Malfoy didn't even trust his own son.

"Before that, however," Voldemort's voice caught Harry's attention. "I'll take great pleasure in destroying you." His hand took Harry by the chin and forced him to look into his eyes. "We mustn't forget our guests, Harry."

"Get your filthy rat claws off of me!" Hermione commanded as Draco brought her over to Voldemort. He shoved her to the floor where she landed with a thump in front of the fireplace then he took a step back.

Voldemort smiled when he saw that flicker of pure hatred behind Harry's glasses. "You haven't any concern for what happens to yourself, do you?" he hissed. The smile melted away. "So let us see how well you handle the torture of someone you do care about."

Harry looked from Voldemort to Hermione, who was soon joined on the floor by Ron.

"Ron," she whispered, her bound hands reaching out for him. Tears filled her eyes when she saw how much Voldemort had worked him over earlier. He'd taken this abuse for her. "I'm sorry ...I'm so very sorry."

Voldemort stepped away from Harry. "To show you that I can be quite a reasonable sort, I'll leave the decision up to you." He gestured to the both of them and removed the magical bonds. They wouldn't need them any longer.

"What?" Harry blinked as he flicked his gaze back to Voldemort. "What do you mean, decision?"

"Don't play stupid. You know exactly what I mean." He pointed to them with his wand. "Choose."

He shook his head. "I won't do that."

"Then I'll kill them both. Is that what you'd prefer?" He raised the wand, the tip pointing directly at Hermione. "You would rather be responsible for their deaths? Torture leaves them a chance of survival. Don't be selfish, boy. Choose one. Or they both die."

You need my help, Harry. The voice was more insistent than ever. You're in a predicament you can't get out of.

Leave me alone!

Stop being a bloody martyr! You know what I'm capable of. What we're capable of ... together.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, bowing his head. He didn't want to give in to that voice again. Anything but that.

You want to save yourself and those stupid friends of yours, right? You can't do it alone. Listen! You have the power to do it ... let me help you use it!

His eyes opened. Hermione sat before him with Ron, half-conscious, cradled in her arms and across her lap. He could see it in her eyes - she wanted him to let them go. The pleading, the silent pleading, from her pained him greatly.

She shook her head, the tears streaming down her cheeks. "Forget us," she whispered so softly Harry could barely hear her. She wanted him to do it. Allowing Voldemort to torture them would simply destroy whatever will Harry had to fight left inside of him.

"Maybe I'll kill the girl first," Voldemort commented when Harry remained quiet. He chuckled lightly. "She does remind me of that mother of yours. So very willing to die for you."

His eyes fell shut again. He knew he would regret his next decision. What other choice did he have, though?

Help me. He could almost see the smile on the faceless voice that harassed him for three years.

Whatever was left of the old Harry - the Harry that Hermione and Ron considered their best friend - relented to the darker self inside of him.

His eyes opened again and he lifted his head, a cold gaze settled on Voldemort. "If you're going to kill them yourself, then where's the fun in that?" he asked. He saw something flicker in the eyes of the dark wizard. A joyless smile came to his face. "If you truly wanted to screw me up, Voldemort, you would make me do it."

Without realizing it, Voldemort had let his wand arm drop down to his side. He studied the young wizard before him, attempting to determine what game this was and how he would beat the boy at it. "Do you believe so?" he asked.

"I figured you to be more original," Harry answered with a careless shrug. "You kill them?" A short laugh. "Haven't you tired of the same old thing by now?" Another shrug. "I suppose I've given you too much credit for the capacity for abstract thought."

Voldemort's hand gripped his wand. He didn't care for this new attitude coming from Potter. He wanted nothing more than to strike him dead where he sat. Then he figured out the game. That was what Harry wanted. For him to lose control and kill him, thus ruining his plans to regain his power.

Such a clever boy, he darkly thought.

Hermione stared up at Harry, confused and afraid at this change in him. She didn't know how to take it. Whatever was happening, it certainly threw Voldemort for a loop. He acts as though he's never seen Harry like this, she thought as she studied the intense expression on Voldemort's face. None of it made sense. Why would he try to reassert control over Harry when he held every advantage available to him?

Draco glanced between Harry and Voldemort. He didn't like the new development. He'd dealt with this side of Harry before, and he was a manipulative bastard. The only thing he could do was warn Voldemort away from tangling with this part of Potter. "My Lord," he quietly began as he took a step towards Voldemort.

"Silence!" He never looked away from Harry, annoyed by that impudent glimmer in the boy's eyes.

"But, my Lord, I must insist -" He fell quiet again when Voldemort raised his wand, pointing it at him. He glanced from it over to Harry, who only grinned a little.

"All right," Voldemort coolly said as he shifted his wand until it aimed at Harry. "We'll used this idea of yours." With a flick of his wrist, he removed the bonds from him. "Stand."

Obediently, Harry rose to his feet. He looked over to Draco, suppressing the urge to laugh at the worry on his face. You should be worried, Malfoy.

"Now ..." Voldemort made a sweeping motion with his hand to Ron and Hermione. "Kill them. If you think yourself capable."

Hermione held Ron close to her. She gazed up at Harry, wondering what he wold do next. Something in his eyes gave her little doubt that he wasn't capable of killing them both. If he chose to.

"How do you expect me to do that with no wand?" He pointed to what was left of his own, lying on the floor.

"Malfoy ..." Voldemort gestured for Draco to come closer. "If you would so kindly hand over your wand to Harry."

Draco held tightly to his wand, what little color that was left in it draining from his face. He looked from Voldemort to Harry who stood just in front of the dark wizard. He recognized that glimmer in Harry's eyes - he'd seen it many times before during seventh year. He didn't like it at all. Frankly, it frightened him. And Voldemort wanted him to give over his wand to this bastard? Not bloody likely.

"Lord Voldemort, I don't think that I should -"

"You'll do as I say," Voldemort interrupted. He snatched the wand out of Draco's hands, making the pale young man jump a bit. He was growing weary of the younger Malfoy questioning him. At least his father had the good sense to do as he was told. He placed the wand in Harry's open hand. "Now ... since you're so eager to ... 'screw yourself up'?"

Harry aimed Draco's wand at Hermione, who sat there in stunned silence.

"Harry ..." she managed to sputter out. "Please ... if you do this ..."

Stop fighting me, Harry, the voice commanded. You have to let me help you!

"Kastabah!" he shouted, pivoting on his heel, directing the spell at Voldemort. The light hit the dark wizard in the middle of the chest with such force that it threw him against the far wall of the room. Voldemort's wand landed on the floor, near Hermione, who only glanced at it. She was so relieved that Harry hadn't actually killed Ron and her, she couldn't remember how to move.

Draco launched himself at Harry and the both of them fell to the floor, fighting over Draco's wand. When they finally stopped rolling, Harry had Draco on his back, fighting to unlatch Draco's hand from his wand wrist. He let go for a second to quickly land a punch square in Malfoy's mouth. The result of which split open the other's lip, blood momentarily spurted from the wound. He was thrown onto his back by a renewed strength from Malfoy.

Hermione glanced from the two wizards struggling for possession of the wand to Ron. "Come on, Ron, let's get out of here." She threw an arm around his waist as she helped him get to his feet. "Please ... hurry."

Ron hung onto her for stability. "What about ... Harry?" he asked.

"We'll let him handle himself for now. You're in no shape to fight anyone, let alone ... " She let the sentence trail off. She wasn't sure if Harry had gone completely back to his old ways or if this was some elaborate trick. From the look in his eyes, she didn't believe it was a trick. Still, he'd attacked Voldemort instead of killing her. "Hurry ..." she urged instead.

"What a fool he was," Draco growled as he locked one hand around Harry's neck. He was straddled across Harry now, one hand choking him while the other remained locked around the wand wrist. "I know you better than Voldemort, Potter. I know what you really are when you strip away that faux saint-like behavior." Blood dripped from his mouth onto Harry's robe. "You're just like me."

"I'm not that pathetic," Harry snarled. He managed to remove Draco's hand from his neck then he shoved him off. "Ow!" His wrist twisted when Draco refused to let go of it. His fingers opened and Draco's wand fell out of his grasp, onto the floor.

Victorious, Draco snatched up his wand. He only managed a smile for a moment. The next thing he felt was the sole of Harry's shoe smashing him in the face. Falling backward, he was dazed but he held onto his wand. He blinked a few times then saw Harry scrambling on hands and knees for Voldemort's wand.

Not this time, Potter. He raised his wand, his lips forming the words for the killing curse.

Harry's fingers wrapped around Voldemort's wand and he whirled around, shouting his spell before Malfoy could finish his. "Cutis Eliminare!"

A black, shimmering light shot from the end of the wand, and when it hit Draco, the effects of the spell were most gruesome. The light sheared the skin from Malfoy's body. The scream which erupted from Draco was unlike any other Harry'd heard in his life. The pale exterior was eaten from him, leaving behind only the deep purplish/red insides of Draco Malfoy. Once the light lifted, Draco lay in the living room, motionless. The screaming had stopped before the spell finished its work. Wherever the black robes didn't cover, the skinless portions of Malfoy were visible.

Voldemort stared at the remains of Lucius Malfoy's only child. Then, very slowly, he shifted his attention to Harry Potter. The young man, exhausted from the physical altercation with Malfoy, breathed heavily, while gripping the evil wizard's wand in his hand. No doubt, he viewed the boy with different eyes. Eyes that were filled with a new admiration. But Harry's hand ... still held onto his wand.

What did you make me do? Harry thought as he stared at Draco's remains in utter shock.

I didn't make you do anything, Harry.

He was about to respond to the voice when he heard the creak of the floorboards from beside him. He remembered Voldemort. Scrambling to his feet, he lifted the wand to defend himself against the wizard. For once, Voldemort stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes glancing from the wand to Harry himself. Swallowing hard, Harry gripped the wand but refrained from using it against him.

"Well, I must admit I was mistaken, my boy," he calmly said. He gestured to what was left of Malfoy. "I didn't think you had such inclination within you. Then again, we do share a part of myself. I shouldn't have doubted your ... tenacity." He was careful of how he approached now. He wanted to retrieve his wand and destroy this boy before Harry was given the chance to do so to him.

Hermione staggered into the living room. She'd heard the horrific screaming from outside of the cottage as he helped Ron to a safe hiding place. As for who'd fallen victim, she didn't have the slightest clue. Until she saw Harry facing off with Voldemort and the grotesque remains of Draco lying not far from the both of them. A hand flew to her mouth as she closed her eyes and leaned against the wall for support.

Oh please ... please ... don't let Harry have done that, she begged. The nausea became even stronger when she considered the fact Harry could have done it. Please ... I don't want this to happen again. Harry ... we can't lose you.

Voldemort saw Hermione from the corner of his eye. A small smile appeared. "It would seem your precious little friends didn't believe it possible either."

Harry looked over to Hermione. She pressed her hand to the wall, still leaning against it. Her eyes locked with his and for the briefest of moments, he felt guilty for what he'd done to Malfoy. There were so many other spells he could've used, why did he choose that one? Why? Because you made me, he thought, addressing the voice.

You need to stop blaming me, Harry. Haven't I told you many times before? We're the same person.

"Come along, my boy," Voldemort continued, his voice so very smooth and comforting. "We both know that in time, you won't be able to live with what you've done here tonight. I can save you the agony of that." His came even closer, almost within grasp of his wand. "I'll allow your friends to live, if that's what it will take to make you give up. You'll be gone and they'll have a little more life to enjoy, thanks to you."

Harry looked to Voldemort. As soon as he did, the wizard stopped his advance. He knew a lie when he heard it. He'd never let Hermione and Ron go, not after all of this. Jaw tightening, he took a step back from Voldemort, shaking his head.

"No."

Hermione saw the expression on Harry's face. Don't do it. Harry ... don't do it! She couldn't find her voice to shout the words at him. Only her mind would do so. You can stop this. Hermione, you can stop him. Run. Grab the wand from him before he can do something he'll regret. However, he feet refused to respond to what her brain told them. 'Move!' it demanded. Yet they didn't.

Voldemort laughed. "No? And do you think you'll defeat me?" His eyes narrowed on Harry, all joviality gone from his manner. "You kill me now and I'll only rise again later. And when I do, I'll do everything in my power to make you sorry for your poor choices. I promise you that. I neverdie. Haven't you figured that out yet, you stupid child?"

'To kill him ...' Malfoy's voice seemed to whisper in Harry's ear. 'You must ... become him.'

I can't, he thought.

You have to.

I won't.

Then die. Kill us both, if that makes you happy.

Voldemort saw the inner turmoil in Harry. Yes, my boy, you haven't the resolve for such things. "Do not make the mistake your parents did," he coolly said. A hand reached out to reclaim his wand from Harry. "Fight that weakness. Admit your defeat. I will make it as painless as possible." His hand almost touched the tip of the wand. "I give you my word."

Harry's eyes darkened as they narrowed on Voldemort. "I only have one thing to say to your offer," he evenly replied.

"Harry, NO!" screamed Hermione, running towards him.

"Essentia Consumere!"

The brilliant light erupted from the end of the wand. Unlike any other curse, the light formed a hand, the fingers of it gripped onto Voldemort. Once the beam of light left the wand completely,Harry stumbled backwards, wide-eyed.

"Harry!" Hermione grabbed his arm with both hands to stop him from falling. She saw the look on his face - he was just as surprised as she was that he'd actually used the curse. She followed his gaze to Voldemort. "Oh my ... "

Voldemort spun in place, his hands planted on the sides of his head as he tried to tear the magical hand from its vise-like grip on his body. An inhuman howl escaped his lips and his body took on a dark glow as the curse worked away on him. "No!" he screamed, fingernails clawing into his own body. "No! NO!"

The light dimmed completely, seeming to retreat into Voldemort's body. For a moment, Hermione thought it had failed to do its job. Somehow, maybe, Voldemort was the only wizard immune to found comfort in the possibility. A comfort that was short-lived.

The wizard's body was thrown backwards as the blinding light leaped from his chest and headed straight for Harry. Hermione felt herself being shoved away by Harry before the light struck him. He, too, was thrown back. He struck the wall behind him so hard that a large hole was left in it when he toppled to the floor. He lay motionless.

Hermione, her body trembling, looked from Voldemort to Harry. She was afraid that the curse had killed them both. Would that be so awful? she couldn't help but think. Taking slow steps, she approached Harry. A shaky hand reached out towards him.

Suddenly, he moved. A cry of pure pain made her backpedal away from him. Grabbing the sides of his head with both hands, Harry doubled over on his knees. His eyes squeezed shut as he endured the grueling pain brought upon him by the curse. Violently, his head whipped back, his eyes wide, his face contorted in a mix of agony and fear.

In his mind, his own memories merged with those of Lord Voldemort. Memories of times long past, of Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape and all of the loyal Death Eaters, it was vivid in his mind. The visions of murder, torture and chaos Voldemort personally was responsible for followed. Screams of his victims - Muggle and magic alike - nearly shattered him.

He saw flashes of his father, of his mother, heard her screams and her pleading for Voldemort to spare the life of her little boy. Then he saw himself through Voldemort's eyes. An innocent young child, staring up at the killer of his parents with a fearless smile upon his face. The memory was flashed away by the green light of the killing curse.

The memories of the person who existed before Voldemort emerged from the fading light. He saw things through the 16 year old eyes of Tom Marvolo Riddle. The wicked and ambitious thoughts of the young man became his own. He was then drawn further back in time, to when young Tom lived a lonely life in an orphanage. The sadness, the anger and hatred of his father, and the desire to become more than what he was seared itself into Harry's own consciousness. Riddle's memories jumped forward. From Riddle's point of view, he witnessed the murder of Tom's father and the rest of his Muggle family at Tom's own hand. Their frozen expressions of terror forever etched themselves into Harry's mind.

Everything that was Harry intermingled completely with Riddle/Voldemort. Soon, he was unable to distinguish which memories belonged to him and which had been the Dark Lord's.

His eyes rolled back in his head as his hands fell away from his temples. Physically and mentally spent, he collapsed forward onto the floor, breathing heavily and very labored.

The light subsided. It was over. The curse had done as it was supposed to do.

Hermione kneeled beside him, afraid to even touch him. He was still alive but very worn out from the effects of the curse. "Harry?" she whispered. She gasped sharply when he sat back on his heels rather quickly. Heart racing, a hand dared to rest itself on the wizard's shoulder. "Harry ... is it ...you?"

Sweat dripped down his face as he shifted his attention to who had spoken to him. Squinting at her, he tried so desperately to match a name to the face. Nothing came to him right away. Yet he continued to search his mind, and the new memories that had been forced upon him, attempting to locate the identity of the woman in front of him.

"Do you know who I am?" she quietly asked. She looked deep into his eyes, trying to find a glimmer of the friend she knew. He stared at her as though she were no more than a stranger. "Do you know me?"

His hands gripped her by her upper arms very suddenly. He drew her closer, studying her face for a moment. His gaze traveled down the rest of her body then made its way back to her face. "Her ... Hermione?" he replied, eyebrows raised as he recognized her. His hands released her when he noticed how tightly he held onto her. "Is ... is everything ... all right?"

A bright smile lit up her face as she gayly wrapped her arms around Harry's neck. "Everything is wonderful!" she declared, her voice choked with tears of relief and joy. She closed her eyes, thankful that he was himself. "You didn't leave us," she whispered, her eyes opening. Elated, she pressed a few kisses to the side of his face. "You're still here."

His eyes closed briefly when he felt her lips press so softly to his skin. Memories of his own, ones of her, dominated this thoughts. Of that night in the library at Hogwarts - the two of them alone - when all he'd wanted was her. He still did. But there was so much more he desired now. So much more. He expected to hear that voice object to such thoughts of her, this girl with her arms around him.

None came.

She sat back, smile on her face. A finger wiped away the happy tears. "You resisted his influence, Harry. I ... I honestly didn't believe you could. You're much stronger than I ever imagined."

He looked past her to what remained of Lord Voldemort. "Much stronger than a lot of people imagined," he dully added.

She turned. The smile faded when she saw Voldemort's corpse, the body of an aged man, in the more advanced stages of decay. An old man, that's all he really was without his powers. They'd feared this for so many decades? "The curse removed everything, even the magic that kept him alive for so long when he should've been dead," she sighed then faced Harry. "It's over. You've really done it. We never have to be afraid of Voldemort again."

"You said his name."

"So I did," she replied with a smile. "Let's go. We have a lot of good news to tell people."

"I guess we do."

He watched her rise to her feet. She didn't wait for him, though. Instead, she hurried out of the house, joyfully calling out to Ron. Sitting back on his heels, he stared at Voldemort's body then shifted his attention over to Draco Malfoy. He scoffed lightly, a grin on his face as he shook his head. He rose up, grimacing at the aches in his body from the battle he'd just fought. He rolled his right shoulder, working out the knot in the muscle.

Hermione was right. It was time to go.

Harry took two steps forward then stopped, turning at the waist. He scanned the floor behind him until he found what he wanted. Bending over, he snatched up the wand that had once belonged to Voldemort and tucked it under his robe. As he strolled out of the living room, head held a little higher than usual, he managed to smile.

I couldn't leave without my wand, could I?