Summary: An epic battle between Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort. What happens when things begin to tip in the Dark Lord' favor? Who will win? I garantee you won't see this coming. No Pairings.

WARNING!: Unlike my other fics, there will be no pairings in this story. However, I dare you to try and guess the ending! ;P

Disclaimer: Ummm...Is it really necessary for me to bemoan the fact that I own none of the characters or the potterverse? (pouts) I do own the plot thought! :D

Author' Note: Hey everyone! Wow, three days in a row I've had a new story to post for you! I feel as though I'm spoiling you guys just a tad. ;P Feel free to go check out my other stories, also I have a poll on my profile page, go vote! :D

Now on with the story!

When Enemies Meet

Chapter One

Albus Dumbledore waited patiently for his enemy to arrive. Today was the day that he would finally defeat the younger wizard. He felt it in the very marrow of his bones… His normally twinkling gaze hardened at the very though of his nose less adversary. He would make him pay for all the times he had lost battles to the younger man, embarrassing not only him but his men as well. Speaking of his men, they were already in their battle positions, waiting to strike. Yes, today he would stop Tom…

Lord Voldemort entered with a sneer at the occupants of the large room, his men behind him. Ahh…the Dark Lord thought, this will be fun…

"Fancy meeting you here Albus," he said calmly. However the sneer twisting his pale visage into a mask of abject disdain said otherwise.

"Tom," Dumbledore replied stiffly, his grandfatherly demeanor vanishing increasingly by the second.

Voldemort's face went blank in his fury. Never let them see how much that name affects you. He thought desperately. Dumbledore would pay very dearly for that little jab.

"Funny," he drawled in a bored tone, his crimson eyes flashing in anger. "I don't remember giving you of all people permission to call me by that name." There, he though derisively, that ought to shut him up for a minute at the very least!

However, Lord Voldemort was proved to be wrong, when Dumbledore opened his mouth immediately after. What Gods have I angered? Voldemort pondered sadly. No one deserves to have to put up with the old lemon drop crazy coot. Sighing, he listened to what the older man, dubbed Old Coot was saying.

"My poor boy…" Dumbledore paused briefly to admire the snarl that he had provoked. Clearing his throat quickly, Dumbledore continued. "It really is understandable," he said in a calming voice, as though trying not to spook a horse, "Do not worry my boy, you are not alone in this most grievous of matters…" Dumbledore trailed off, looking sympathetically at the younger wizard.

Sighing softly, knowing that he would regret his actions later, the fearsome Dark Lord Voldemort did something completely unheard of. He confessed a weakness. Outside the window, pigs could be seen flying joyously, squealing happily as they flew through the blue skies.

"What in the bloody hell are you talking about Old Man?" Voldemort asked in a strained voice. Silently motioning for his men to take their battle positions as he spoke. Whoever said that Evil Dark Lords couldn't multi-task?

Dumbledore' many times damned twinkle had now returned at full throttle, and was working overtime.

"Don't worry Tom," he said pleasantly. "It's completely natural to experience memory loss in your old age," he said serenely, giving off the air that he had just shared precious pearls of wisdom, while making sure to accent the words old and Tom. Oh how that would annoy his adversary, he though happily while popping a lemon drop in his mouth. Ahh sugar, how I love thee…

For Voldemort, that was the final straw. No more Mr. Nice Dark Lord! No, today he would annihilate the old man, and no one could stop him! Mwahahahaha! Interrupting his own internal monologue, Voldemort issued his first order of attack. The battle had now begun in earnest. The Old Coot was going down!

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What happens next? Bet you can't guess! :P

~Autumn Skyie