Chapter Seven - Maro

There were very few students left at Hogwarts now, since the latest attack. Harry had seen groups of parents, carefully escorted by Aurors, enter the castle by backdoors and take their children away. A few refused though, particularly those who had been part of Dumbledore's Army: Ernie Macmillan had had a blazing row with his parents at the Hufflepuff table. The fact that many of his housemates were cheering him might have played a part in persuading his parents that Ernie would not be leaving.

On the other hand, most of the Slytherins had left but a few remained, for various reasons. But Harry was almost oblivious to the departure of nearly the whole school. His mind seemed able to focus on only three things: the strange demon hunter, the Horcruxes, and the sudden sharp pains he was experiencing once again in his scar.

He had noticed it for the first time the night after the girls had been attacked. The first few times it had been a mere tingle, but a day later, a sharp burning struck often and without warning. The last time left him clutching his head and gasping as he and the other two sat in the library, flicking dejectedly through various books.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked immediately. Ron glanced up in concern. Harry said nothing, massaging his head with his knuckles, trying to recall what he had just seen in that glimpse through Voldemort's eyes. It had been difficult to make anything out, it seemed that the Dark Lord was taking refuge in some dark place. Here and there Harry had discerned the glinting masks of the Death Eaters. They had all been looking at something, or maybe someone, in a shadowy corner. Voldemort was angry with whatever was in the corner - he had lifted his wand and there was a laugh, but he had not laughed...

Harry jerked as Hermione poked him in the shoulder, anchoring him to the here and now. She wanted an explanation, quite obviously. "It's your scar, isn't it? Don't tell me it's not, I can see it is."

"It's nothing," mumbled Harry, closing his eyes. Who had laughed? He couldn't bring anything more to mind, possibly because Hermione had clipped him round the ear.

"Hey!" he protested. "That was completely uncalled for." Anyone else would have quailed under the glare she was giving him but Harry had been on the receiving end of that look far too often for it to have any effect now. Harry closed his book and stood up, returning it to its shelf, careful to avoid Hermione's accusing stare. Ron's eyes flicked between the pair of them, uncertainty etched on his face. Harry muttered, "Thanks for the concern but I don't need it." With that, Harry turned to leave. He had to be on his own, with no distractions. Even the company of his friends was becoming too much.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk," he replied with a simple shrug. He imagned Hermione casting an uneasy glance at Ron. He was almost outside the room when she spoke again.

"You don't have to do this alone, Harry."

Part of Harry wanted to stop: wanted to return to them, smiling, telling them that he knew - he knew he could count on them. But he carried on and left the others behind as his footsteps echoed. Whatever they said, he was alone. He and only he could bring an end to Voldemort. He had not chosen this part, it had been forced upon him by the Dark Lord, like a black tunnel looming toward him. And if he allowed the others in his life to become too close, who knew what might happen to them? It was something he could not risk, the reason he had called it off with Ginny...

Eventually he wound his way up to the Gryffindor common room. The muted chit-chait ceased as he entered. Suppressing a sigh, Harry crossed the room, ignoring the furtive looks, and climbed the stairs to his dormitory where he fell upon his bed. He lay there, staring and not seeing.

What was he supposed to do? Last year, Dumbledore had entrusted the finding and desctruction of the Horcruxes to him, yet he had done almost nothing. The trio had intended to make a brief return to Hogwarts, more for old times' sake than anything else, but then the monsters, the demons, had arrived. There had been nothing else to do except wait, wait and hope that somehow the school would be saved. And all the time Harry knew that Voldemort was out there, so close by, and he was powerless to do anything. All he could do was put his faith into the demon slayer. The longer he did nothing, the less time he had - he could almost envisage an hourglass, the grains of sand trickling away as time ran past...

- - - - - - - -

Voldemort was usually not someone given to emotion, preferring to remain detached. Often a cool head had meant the difference between victory and defeat, though he was forced to admit that he had sometimes allowed his rage to rule him. It threatened to do so now as his red eyes focused on the figure in the corner, shrouded in shadows. He remembered well how he had met this stranger.

It had been easy, ridiculously easy to reverse the magic, a simple matter for a master of the Dark Arts. The vague gossamer mist had swirled, become almost solid and opaque, before dissolving once more, the silver now tinged with rusted red, almost as if it had been stained with blood. A yell of triumph went up from his faithful Death Eaters, and his lips had even stretched into a horrible parody of a grin. Really, it was amazing that nobody had ever thought of this before. It proved even more how far he was willing to go, how much he would give in order to reign supreme. He stepped forward, wand outstretched, about to venture into the mist and then - who knew?

Before the tip of his wand made contact with the insubstantial silver, it shifted suddenly. The grin faded and was replaced by a frown. In the mist, a shadow could be seen, an area of darkness, small at first and then growing as it approached. It became man-shaped. The Death Eaters muttered among themselves, wondering whether their master had foreseen this, whether this was a part of the plan.

Within seconds, the shadow had solidified into what appeared to be a person. His gaunt face was framed by lank grey hair and he limped feebly with each step, his feet dragging along the floor, perhaps the relic of some old injury. Despite his condition, a smile was on his face, reaching right across and exposing teeth that were pearly white yet many of them were missing. His clothes, mere rags, hung from his thin frame. In his right hand he clutched a book which had seen better days, pages falling from it even as he walked. He came to a halt about four feet away from Voldemort, apparently oblivious to the disgusted looks he was getting.

When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and yet some underlying emotion ran through it, impossible to pinpoint. "Welcome to hell, mortals." And the smile stretched even wider.

In the following days, Voldemort learned much and was surprised to discover how many things had been unknown to him. The idea that he alone among wizards was privy to this knowledge amused him greatly. What fools they were to let such power lie sleeping! It was another way in which he was superior to them all.

The man in the mist had introduced himself as 'Maro' and he would tell nothing else about himself, his only response when pressed a shake of the head. Even when Voldemort threatened torture, Maro would say nothing but that eerie smile widened and somehow Voldemort was wary of antagonising the man. However, Maro had plenty to say about the place beyon the mist and it was this that Voldemort found to be of most interest.

"You see, Tom -" The Dark Lord twitched irritably. Maro took no notice. "You see, no other wizards have ever thought the same way as you. You're the first to have the sense to reverse the magic. So of course, you can't be blamed for not knowing what to expect. The place I come from is literally Hell. Or, well, I should really say the Underworld, or the demonic realm. Hell's just a tag you humans have stuck on it. Anyway Tom -"

"My name is Voldemort," he interrupted in a low hiss.

Maro continued blithely, "Whatever you say Tom."

Voldemort leapt up in a towering rage, drawing his wand. Maro looked at it with vague disinterest and raised an eyebrow at the taller man's expression of fury. And then he slowly turned away, returning to his book. Whenever this happened, he would refuse to talk for at least the rest of the day.

Another subject Maro often touched upon was that of the demons. Soon after he had emerged, strange creatures had come through the mist, many of them wielding huge blades. The Death Eaters had immediately tried to destroy the monsters but their spells were of no use. As the monsters came on, the Death Eaters had retreated with yells until Maro spoke sharply and the newcomers halted. Soon Voldemort found out that these were the demons and Maro had explained why the magic had failed, much as Dante had explained to McGonagall. Voldemort had quickly realised how these demons could be put to use. To his faint surprise, Maro had agreed. Voldemort had been expecting a flat refusal and another grin.

"It is my master's wish that they be put to good use," Maro said with a shrug. Voldemort scowled.

"Who is your master then?" And this time he got the smile.

Despite the antagonism between the two, they were able to plot the siege of Hogwarts. The Dark Lord was almost beside himself with delight as the Aurors were unable to drive back the monsters. Potter had been trapped like a rat and it was only a matter of time before he ventured out, perhaps with some idiotic notion of saving the day yet again.

But then the carefully laid plans went awry. That stranger, that Muggle on the motorbike had swanned in and with horrible ease had destroyed hundreds of the demons! He had even saved two of the girls, though Voldemort had noted his apparent reluctance to challenge the Nightmare, as Maro called it. But the red-coated threat could not go unanswered, leading to the current situation.

Maro shifted slightly in his spot. The clearing was silent except for the turning of pages. There was a soft thud as Maro closed his book and raised his head, his filthy hair swinging in front of his face. And there was the grin again.

"I demand that you do something about this man!" Maro remained silent. "Answer me!"

The man from Hell stood slowly, wavering a little as he always did. "Tom," he began, his tone condescending, "firstly may I remind you that you will not get an answer if you speak to me like that. Secondly, I am afraid that it is my master's wish that I do nothing -"

"I am your master!" Voldemort almost screeched. His Death Eaters looked away. A horrible silence fell. Maro's gaze was on Voldemort. Anger pulsed through the Dark Lord's veins. In a flash he had drawn his wand and as he held it in front of him, it shook very slightly.

A sound that he had never expected echoed suddenly. A burst of laughter, alarming in its volume and intensity. And it was Maro laughing, laughing at him. The man had bent double and tears were even rolling down his cheeks. Voldemort's wand shook harder.

"Be silent!"

But Maro was not silent. His laughter continued, bubbling over. Finally it began to subside and he straightened. He saw the wand and started chuckling to himself again. Yet Voldemort did nothing except to try and hold the wand steady. He did not cast any spells, to the surprise of the Death Eaters. At last Maro's laughter died away and suddenly his face grew serious.

"You are deluded," he said clearly, his voice icily cold. "You are foolish enough to call yourself my master? You might hold sway over them -" he gestured at the Death Eaters who were utterly silent "- but you have no power over me. Dark Lord? A human declares himself to be a Dark Lord!" He laughed again but this time it was filled with a mocking sound that grated on Voldemort's nerves. Maro resumed his speech. "You know nothing of darkness, Tom Riddle. The true Dark Lord resides in Hell and you had best hope you never have the misfortune to meet him. And it is my master's wish that I do nothing about this demon slayer. There are other plans for him."

Having ended his rebuke, Maro's grin returned. Suddenly he turned his head to the side, a frown passing across his face. Voldemort opened his mouth but no retort came. Before he could come up with a really evil comment, Maro spoke again.

"It would appear that the demon slayer is not your only problem now," he said softly. For a moment Voldemort could make no sense of this statement, until he heard sudden shrieks belonging to the demons. Following Maro's gaze, he saw through the shadowy trees that someone was in the grounds. His red eyes widened.

"It'll be interesting to see what happens now, don't you think?" Maro commented.

- - - - - - - -

Harry didn't move as the dormitory door opened. It was only when the newcomer spoke that he realied it was Ron. He was tempted to get up and leave but instead he remained motionless on the bed.

"Hermione's right, you know." Harry was silent. "Whatever you think or say, we'll be there."

Harry sat up. "But that's the problem. What if you're there and it goes wrong? What if either of you get hurt? It'll be my fault. Voldemort will try to get to me through both of you and I can't let that happen." He saw that Ron had a rather mulish look upon his face.

"Look, mate," Ron began, "it won't be your fault if something happened. We're choosing to stick by you. Anyway, we've had this conversation before, haven't we?"

"Yeah, but -"

"But nothing. We've known all this stuff for years and we've always stuck by you, whether you like it or not. Got it?" Harry sighed, nodding. They'd probably go through this again some other time though. He was rather stubborn sometimes.

And then the door banged open and Neville Longbottom burst inside, his face flushed with excitement. "Harry! Ron!" he exclaimed while trying to catch his breath. "You won't believe - outsie - amazing." He gasped and rather than attempt to explain he gesutred out of the window. Harry and Ron leaped over, pressing their faces to the glass. At first nothing seemed strange but Harry noticed the monsters outside were in uproar. Squinting, he made ou a small figure dressed in white, walking along as if unaware of the nearby demons. Ron whistled.

"What does that guy think he's doing?"

But Harry had a funny feeling that the stranger knew exactly what he was doing and this was proven seconds later. Three of the lizard-like demons erupted violently from the ground in a shower of mud. The figure, instead of fleeing, dived to one side and Harry faintly made out that they were holding a gun in their hand and spraying bullets. The lizards collapsed into a heap.

At that moment a sudden roar of fury shook the walls. There had been words in that roar and as far as Harry could tell, they had been: "WHAT THE HELL IS -?" before they were cut off. It had been easy to recognise Dante's voice and Harry wondered what had upset him so. Only one way to find out.

He had to pull Ron away from the spectacle and the pair sprinted through the common room, where the remaining Gryffindors had pressed their faces to the window, downstairs and through the corridors, taking short-cuts here and there. Students were gathered round the windows, intrigued by this show. Ron showed signs of wanting to stop and watch but Harry pressed on until they came to the Entrance Hall, where quite a crowed had already gathered. Dante had also just arrived and was shoving his way through the group furiously. Harry watched as Dante flung open the doors with a brutal kick.

"And what," Dante yelled, "exactly are you doing here?"

- - - - - - -

A/N: And again, this took me forever. But you wouldn't BELIEVE the amount of work I've had! And I've read comments on the last chapter, some of you mentioned that you liked how Dante's grown up a bit, and about time too.

Dante: Hey!

I really should stop letting them interrupt. Anyway, thanks for all your reviews, I read every single one of them and I pay attention to them too. And don't worry, Dante's not gonna be getting drunk again, that was a little silly of him. Anyways, hope you enjoyed, keep leaving those reviews, and bye for now!

P.S: Some of you have been trying to guess who the newcomer is. Now, read the paragraph carefully, look at what the person is wearing and what the person is doing and please remeber that Ron and Harry were watching from a distance. 'Kay?