Melinda reread the chapter she had just written and frowned. Sirius lived? But his death was so... so necessary. If Sirius lived, the entire series would fall apart.

Only in Rowling's world. You're writing your own story.

The thought struck her out of nowhere, and she smiled. All right, Sirius, she thought. You can live to fight another day.

With that, she began writing.

When Voldemort arrived, it looked like all the chaos was dying down. This would have been a good thing, had it been in his favor. The scene that greeted him was anything but favorable: Dumbledore had arrived and was trying to round up his Death Eaters--like herding cats, Voldemort thought wryly--Potter was standing proudly between Sirius Black and Draco Malfoy, of all people, and all three were closing in on Bellatrix.

Suddenly, Potter dropped his wand and fell to the floor, clutching his scar in agony. Voldemort smiled to himself. Yes, Potter. I'm nearby. Behind you, in fact.

He wasn't actually behind Potter--more to the left of him--but saying 'I'm right behind you' to your mortal enemy had a certain ring to it. "Hello, Harry Potter," he said.

"You!"

Of course it's me, you twit! Who else would be standing right behind you? "Yes, it's me." He raised his wand, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed Dumbledore, who was now just a few yards away. Voldemort spun around, wand now pointed at Dumbledore.

"Leave him alone, Tom."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed at the mention of his old name, but he said nothing. Dumbledore had always called him Tom, and he would probably never stop. "Avada--"

Dumbledore didn't speak, but the spell he cast made Voldemort stumble backward and stopped the Unforgivable in its tracks.

It was so on.

Sirius was alive and Draco probably wasn't going to join Voldemort, but the battle wasn't over yet. Liesel wasn't sure how it was all going to end, but she wrote furiously, desperately trying to reach an ending. Jacob stood behind her, reading over her shoulder.

"How come Voldemort isn't going after Harry?"

"Dunno. Maybe someone else tipped him off that that wouldn't be such a good idea."

She said it matter-of-factly, but the idea disturbed him. If another writer was out there helping Voldemort....

No, it was just the characters, he told himself. Dumbledore would win this one, no problem. There was a reason Rowling had called this chapter "The Only One He Ever Feared."

Then again, she had gotten a few other details wrong.

Halfway through their duel, Voldemort got an idea: Why not possess Potter? Dumbledore wouldn't dare attack him, and it wouldn't be all that hard. No sooner had the idea struck, however, than he dismissed it. The risks far outweighed the benefits. He might as well keep dueling the geezer and take what came his way.

The geezer was a better duelist than Voldemort had remembered. The idea of possessing Harry was starting to look more attractive when the door opened and Cornelius Fudge burst into the room. The idiot wouldn't have meant anything to him, except for the fact that the idiot ran the Ministry of Magic.

Could this day get any worse?

Melinda reread what she'd written. At least her reasoning had kept Voldemort from possessing Harry. Why had he done that in the books, anyway? She guessed it was so Rowling could show what a terrible person he was, but still didn't see the point.

In this case, he hadn't done it, which showed wisdom on his part. Now all she had to do was come up with a way for him to escape the Ministry.

It wasn't a miracle that kept Voldemort from getting captured that day. It wasn't any feat of magic or physical strength that let him escape the Ministry. No, it was a combination of simple luck and quick thinking.

Sirius, who now had both his and Bellatrix's wands, was chasing his cousin around the room. Perhaps it was something about Azkaban that made her so fast, but he could never quite catch up to her long enough to finish a curse.

Coming full circle, Bellatrix saw Fudge come into the room just as it looked like Dumbledore was about to finish Voldemort off. She couldn't let him die or get captured, so she did the only logical thing that came to mind.

She ran.

That stupid Hufflepuff--Napoleon or whatever his name was--stood toward the edge of the room, so she ran over, grabbed his arm, and dragged him along as she ran full speed ahead toward the duel. She stopped abruptly, flinging Napoleon into the fray and stopping Dumbledore from firing the final curse.

That was all the distraction Voldemort needed. He took Napoleon in one hand and Bellatrix in the other, then Disapparated, leaving the Order members and what Death Eaters hadn't vanished already staring after him.

It was a long moment before anyone spoke. Dumbledore slowly turned and looked at Harry and his friends. He sighed deeply.

"We'd best get you home."

Voldemort had escaped with Bellatrix and Napoleon Dynamite. Napoleon would be no help, of course, but any interrogation with him would be entertaining.

Her work done, Melinda sat back for a moment, but some strange feeling urged her to keep writing, and with good reason, she soon discovered. Right now, Bellatrix was wondering how Voldemort had known what to do.

"I thought you were going to kill Potter, my lord," she was saying.

"So did I. Some strange urging told me not to."

"Urging?"

Urging? Melinda's heart raced. Was he talking about....her?

Voldemort shook his head. "I'm not certain what it was. Something simply told me to attack Dumbledore instead. It was as though someone was next to me, telling me what to do--someone who could see the future."

Yes. He was definitely talking about Melinda.

Bellatrix frowned, considering this. "I suppose it's a good thing you listened, my lord."

Voldemort said nothing. He went over the experience once more, trying to see who the mysterious voice belonged to. But it was like looking through a fog; he could hear the voice but not see the owner.

Turning to Bellatrix once more, he jerked his head toward Napoleon. "Take him to the cellar. We'll interrogate him later."

Perhaps the Hufflepuff knew something he didn't.

Rereading this, Melinda's heart raced until she thought it would burst. Voldemort wanted to talk to her. He wanted to find out who she was and how she knew what she did.

She stood and paced for a moment, then sat back down. If he wanted to find her, she would give him as much help as she could.

FYI: Voldemort wanted Napoleon because he thought Napoleon (as an American) could tell him something about Jacob.

And again, I know it's not how the book had it, but I AM changing a few things.