Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and all related materials are the property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury and Warner Brothers. I am in no way affiliated with JKR, Bloomsbury or Warner Brothers, and use their materials without their permission or knowledge.

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A/N - Clearing out some of the fics I've been sitting on for a while that aren't going anywhere. This was first written before Deathly Hallows was released.

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The hollow sound of measured footsteps bounced off the walls lining the tunnel and echoed back loudly as the hooded man walk briskly down the corridor. Regularly spaced torches flared brightly into flame before he reached them, signifying the presence of powerful magic in the otherwise plain tunnel.

Ward after ward washed over him, but none caused the wizard the slightest pause, as he unhesitatingly proceeded through the dungeon-cold labyrinth and deep into the centre of the massive pyramid.

Nobody could get this far into the highest security facility ever built without successfully passing scores of identity and motivation verifying checks. Just applying for permission to enter the facility meant having their state of mind and thoughts thoroughly examined by a team of master Legilimens.

At any moment, massive stone blocks could come crashing down to trap or even crush the wizard, but he walked with the lack of concern of a person who travelled this path many times before; familiarity bred contempt. Not even the musky, stale smell of the unstirring air caused him the slightest twitch of concern, despite the palatable aura of decay lingering in it.

Following an unmarked path of twists and turns, he eventually came to an imposing steel door that sported a dozen fierce looking locks. A massive beam hung across it, disappearing into the stone wall on either side.

Taking a ring of strangely shaped keys from inside his robes, the man carefully unlocked each of the locks in a specific sequence, magically lifted the bar from the door, and then entered the dank cell that lay beyond. The screeching protest of the door's huge hinges echoed through the empty tunnels.

More torches flared into life, bringing light to a room that only knew darkness for months on end.

Tom Riddle, once styled as the all-powerful Dark Lord Voldemort, hung chained to a wall, just as he had since his incarceration five years previous. Chains, cruelly imbedded directly into the bones of his pathetically thin forearms, groaned as they moved for the first time in many days.

The bald, snake-like head of the most evil wizard the world had ever seen turned slowly. Blood-red eyes, with pupils more like a cat's than a man's, viewed the visitor impassively.

"Hello, Harry. How nice of you to visit again. Come to try to squeeze more information about my missing Horcrux out of me have you?"

Harry Potter lowered his hood and stared directly into the face his mortal enemy. Only a few wizards in the world could look into those baleful eyes and not be in mortal danger, and even fewer would not show at least a momentary glimpse of fear, but Harry looked into them, and smiled.

"Hello, Tom," he answered lightly, his voice a deep rumble. "No I haven't, not this time."

"So to what do I owe the pleasure of human companionship then? Come to gloat some more? I thought you had enough of that during my first year here."

Harry Potter laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound. "No, although sometimes I think that I could spent an eternity down here making sure you understood exactly how badly you failed, how profoundly you have been defeated, but I am not going to today."

"Really?" asked the no-longer-human creature sarcastically. "No more stories of how my name and history are taught to children as nothing more than a cautionary tale? No jibes about how every single one of my loyal Death Eaters have been captured and sentenced, all believing I met my end in a grand, final battle? Not even a second spent reliving how you and your filthy Mudblood and blood-traitor friends managed capture the greatest wizard of all time?

"I am a little disappointed, Harry. You could at least humour yourself retelling how my faithful pet Nagini met her end – oh wait – you haven't caught her yet have you? How very foolish of me to forget that you have been unable to break the magic that hides her. I must be getting a trifle forgetful-"

"Actually, Tom," interrupted Harry, "we have."

"LIAR!" shouted the chained figure, giving a sudden, chain-rattling lurch. "You will never find her, and you will never be able to kill me. I am immortal, and though you may keep me chained down here without food or water for a thousand years, I will still rise up and take my rightful place in the world!"

"No, Tom, it's over. When we found her, she was already dead, or did you forget her kind do not live forever? As soon as she died, all the magic hiding her ceased as well, and we were able to locate the corpse quite easily.

"Imagine how surprised we were to find she died from a combination of old age, and eating a poisoned fox. She must have been having difficulties catching prey and settled for something that was not moving very fast. It was rather a letdown, in the end."

"YOU LIE!" shouted Voldemort hysterically. Spittle foamed the corners of his mouth as he strained against his restraints.

"No, but you are right in one thing. You never ended up hearing the whole prophecy, did you? Let me enlighten you."

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives … the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies …"

"So, as you heard, if I walk away from here, you could very well continue to survive for a thousand years without food or water, but I won't be able to truly live until I take your life."

Silence once again filled the chamber as the echo of Harry's words faded away. Then a dry, crackling laugh fell from the mouth of the former Dark Lord.

"So, Harry, it comes to this. Do you have strength of character to do it? Can you become a murderer to free yourself? Come, Harry, tell me how this fairy tale ends."

His eyes glowed with madness as he spoke. His face, already skeletally thin from virtual starvation, took on an even more demonic outline. Harry bowed his head.

Voldemort crackled loudly again.

"You don't have it in you do you, boy? Outgrown all your hatred have you? Forgotten your precious parents, eh? What about that godfather of yours, or your school friends? Or even the hundreds of filthy Muggles I tortured to death? Aren't they enough to give you the righteous anger you need? Don't you hear their souls crying out for revenge? Can you not remember Albus Dumbledore and how I took him from you?

"Foolish child, go away and come back when you have become man enough to finish the job."

"You're right," Harry said quietly. "I don't have enough hate to kill you in cold blood."

Voldemort laughed again, gaining strength from his enemy's weakness.

"What now then, will you let me down and remove all these curses so that we can battle? Is that your plan? Am I to face you with a wand once again? Well hurry up boy, I have no doubt you have improved since we last duelled, but you can ever approach my level of proficiency. Let me down and show me what you have learned while I have been chained to a wall with nothing more than my thoughts to keep me company."

"No," said Harry, raising his head. "You see, I don't need hate."

Suddenly Harry leaped forward and plunged a glowing silver dagger into the heart of the once most feared man in the world.

Voldemort's eyes opened wide as he stared into the green orbs of Harry's face. His mouth moved silently in shock, as his life slowly started ebbing away.

"You have never understood that it is not hate that made us strong; that gave us the will to defeat your armies. You never felt the true strength that love can give, Tom."

With a final shudder, Voldemort's body died and his spirit, with no Horcrux anchoring it, fled into the next great adventure.

And Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived and Chosen One of the Wizarding World, let go of the dagger handle, bowed his head, and wept for the loss the world suffered because of a single man who had never learned how to love.

Finite Incantatem

A/N - I wrote this thinking about Nagini being a poor choice for a Horcrux and also that Voldemort could be neutralised without being killed.