Chapter Seven – Part Three
Draco had wanted to get to his feet, to run towards the woman in purple as she'd vanished back into the throng of dancers, but as he'd moved Bellatrix had yanked him back out of the room with a cackle, making the room suddenly become dark and lifeless again.
"That's enough time at the zoo," she smirked, and slammed the doors shut, leaving them in the gloomy corridor once more.
"Watchers," said Draco with complete certainty, trying to stand. "They're all Watchers."
"Clever boy." Bellatrix shoved him back to the ground, levitating his body half-heartedly and dragging him along the corridor once again. "We can't have them running around causing trouble," she told him, as if this was a perfectly reasonable explanation.
Draco's mind was whirling as fast as the dancers had been. "Why," he said, wincing as he bashed into the wall. "Why are they there like that, why not just lock them up or…" He couldn't bring himself to say it.
"Kill them?" supplied Bellatrix with a trill of a laugh. "Oh no," she said. "We need them alive, otherwise we wouldn't have stable links to their worlds. And they could escape a simple cell. We need them active and awake."
"Why," demanded Draco, but Bellatrix just swiped at him with her boot.
"Shut up," was all she said.
Draco knew he should be worried about himself and where she was talking him, but just how many Watchers did they have locked up the ballroom? Were Seamus and Alex already in there too? Why were they keeping them 'active', what was the plan?
And why hadn't Voldemort just killed them all already?
Draco's skin was prickling with fear as they ascended the staircase that lead to the West Wing of the Manor. There was more going on here than he and Harry had anticipated, he could feel it. He would have to work out what fast if he was to have any chance of stopping them.
He looked at his wand and Godric's sword, floating so close but still so far from his reach, and had to fight from falling completely into despair.
They reached the top of the stairs with several more unnecessary pokes from Bellatrix's boot, and marched onwards to the right. Despite the house being unnaturally arranged, Draco could still tell where they were heading, as if he was allergic to it. He felt no surprise, only more fear, as Bellatrix steered him towards then shoved him through the doors of his father's forbidden study.
Draco staggered into the room, the levitation spell now gone and trying to keep upright in spite of his bound wrists. The lamps were lit and the room looked exactly as it always did, like the precise moment he had vacated the house, down to every last book and scrap of parchment. Very different from the rest of the house with its missing portraits and extinguished lights. Draco felt his breathing heavy in his chest and sweat pricking on his forehead. His father wasn't dead, not in his world. He was in Azkaban, so he couldn't be here, he wasn't going to pop out in Rhansyk form like Bellatrix had.
Draco remembered though, as she strode into the room, that she wasn't from his world, she was from Harry's. Did that mean another Lucius Malfoy was lurking in here, keeping it perfectly preserved, lit and decorated unlike the rest of the house?
A soft laugh drifted from one of the only dark corners of the room, nestled between the large bay window that showed the snow still falling in the night, and the bookcase beside it lining the wall. A figure stepped from the shadows, his white fingers interlaced and contrasting against the blackness of the robes they protruded from.
Voldemort.
Even though Draco had been expecting him, he still tensed in shock. After all this time, he was here, right in front of him.
But he was tied up and weaponless. The weight of it crushed down of Draco's chest.
"You seem concerned," he said to Draco delicately, his red eyes still and calm in his white, skull-like face. He too was exactly the way Draco remembered him being in Courtroom Ten, before he'd killed Draco's mother, before Draco had thrown himself in front of his wand and sent the dark wizard into oblivion.
Draco summoned everything he had ever learnt from Severus about Occlumency and closed his mind to any probing from Voldemort. He would probably still be able to see some of what he was thinking, but he wasn't going to just leave the door of his mind open for him to wonder in.
"No actually," he snapped, using nonchalance to aid his mental discipline and rising to his feet. "I feel quite at home."
"Evidently," agreed Voldemort, walking around Lucius' large wooden desk, his eyes never leaving Draco. "We were quite well situated before you and my Mr Potter arrived, and then we were…relocated," he supplied with a hint of humour. "In Lucius' home, a place I know well enough to see the modifications you've made to it."
"What do you want from me?" said Draco, cutting through Voldemort's chatter. "What will you do to the Watchers?"
Voldemort swept past him, his hands laced behind his back now. Bellatrix had hopped up into the plush leather chair behind the desk by the window, crouched like a feral creature, letting Godric's sword rest on the desk. Voldemort only flicked his eyes towards it for the briefest of moments. "Excellent questions," he replied instead. "You have an eager mind, and," he added, turning to cast Draco a piercing glare. "A well defended one too."
Draco shifted his weight and tried to pull at his ropes without being noticed. Don't drop the barriers, he urged himself. Keep him out of your head. Not that he had many surprises up his sleeve. "I had a good teacher," he told Voldemort through dry lips. All the horrible stories of the terrible things Death Eaters had done to traitors were speeding through his brain, and bile was riding up in his mouth. They were going to hurt him, even more than Bellatrix had done already, of that he was sure.
But Voldemort smiled and walked back to him as Bellatrix bobbed on her chair. "There is no need to fret Draco," said the Dark Lord almost kindly. "You and I are entwined, linked like we are almost the same being, we are tied to each other."
He made it sound so glamorous, like he was talking about love. It made Draco shudder.
He knew they were linked, Alex had said so, he said that he and Harry would have power like no other person in Limbo over the Voldemorts they had destroyed in the parallel universes, and that that power could destroy them again. But Voldemort couldn't be happy about that prospect, that made no sense.
"We're nothing alike," Draco spat instead, and Voldemort came to a halt in front of him.
"In many respects," said Voldemort. "You're right. The most important of which being that you are still real, you are alive and have a body. A feat no one else in Limbo can boast, save for Mr Potter of course," he added with a gentle smile.
Draco clenched his jaw together to stop it from trembling. So he was right, he was going to torture him, his 'real body'. "Is that why you sent all those Rhansyk to kill us then?" he demanded, his voice shaking.
To his annoyance, both Voldemort and Bellatrix laughed. "Mr Malfoy," said Voldemort, placatingly. "No one was trying to kill you. I admit that my servants do have a certain appetite for violence, but that was not their mission I can assure you."
Bellatrix grinned so much Draco thought it must have been painful. "Well I'm here to kill you," he snarled, his fear and hatred the only thing keeping him standing. As far as he was concerned, the Rhansyk had all been very keen on killing him and Harry, he didn't care what they said.
Voldemort's lips twitched, and he turned to walk towards Bellatrix. Draco had to only glance at the open door to the corridor before it was shut on him, locking him in with the two psychopaths. "Your bravery is commendable," Voldemort lamented. "But it is also ill-placed and ill-conceived. You are captive and grievously outnumbered, and I am protected in ways you cannot fathom."
The Horcrux, thought Draco. Had Ron or Hermione managed to destroy the one that belonged to this Voldemort? How would Draco know? Would Voldemort feel it if they had?
"However…" He stopped and slowly rubbed his long white fingers against each other. "This doesn't have to be difficult."
"What?" Draco breathed instantly, contempt clear in his voice. "What doesn't?"
Voldemort smiled, his red eyes glinting like rubies in the lamp light. "Our little arrangement. Something – unique – I have to propose for the benefit of us both."
"I won't help you," said Draco. It was almost like he'd removed himself from the situation. There was no way out, he was in all likelihood going to die here, but he would never give into the monster standing before him. He would never betray the people he loved, or hurt innocent people, just to save his own skin. And the fact that he knew that with absolute certainty gave him a little bit of comfort.
Only a little.
"He hasn't even asked you yet," tutted Bellatrix with a sneer.
Voldemort smiled again. "I think you might be surprised at how easy this could be for you."
Draco snorted. The 'easy' decisions were often the most dangerous ones. "If you're going to destroy Limbo and the Multiverses, I'm dead anyway. I will not let the last thing I ever do be to help you."
Bellatrix hooted with laughter and Voldemort gave her a kind, patient look, like she was an excited child and they had a secret game going on. Draco shifted his chafed wrists again anxiously.
"My dear boy," said Voldemort. "Why ever would I want to destroy this wonderful place?"
Because you're insane? was what Draco really wanted to say, but he clamped his mouth shut.
"This is my home now," continued Voldemort, gliding his hands through the air to illustrate the room, the mansion, Limbo as a whole. "What possible gain would I have in destroying it?" He smiled. "When I can rule it."
Draco's insides went icy. 'The King of all shall rule' - that's what the prophecy had said. "The Watchers?" he said, he eyes flicking between the two red pairs before him. "You want them…to affect their worlds?"
Voldemort's faux cheery demeanour slipped slightly. "Ah," he said ruefully. "As nice an idea that might be, unfortunately our guests would not help us even if they had the capability."
"What a shock," said Draco dryly.
Voldemort's good humour reappeared in a flash though. "But they don't have to," he said, stepping a little closer to Draco who tried not to flinch. "That's the beauty of it."
"Of what?" snapped Draco. "If you don't want to destroy Limbo, you want to rule it, fine. But I know there's at least several thousand people out there fighting to stop you. If you think I'll change their minds-"
"Stupid boy!" spat Bellatrix, scrambling from her chair to seize the edge of the desk. "You're thinking about it all backwards!"
"Limbo is the in between space," explain Voldemort calmly. "And although it has been a thrill to reclaim my body and utilise it with such efficiency in this new world, it is rather limited in its possibilities. But you," he beamed. "You and young Harry are the limitless ones."
Draco glared at him, his jaw clenched. "Because we're in our real bodies," he clarified. That's what the Vikings were so excited about and why they had wanted to sell them before. "What do you want with our bodies?"
"To take them," breathed Voldemort, excitement alive in his voice.
Draco hadn't really been expecting that. He swallowed and tried not to show his surprise. "Take them where?" he asked evenly.
Voldemort grinned from ear to ear, like an alley cat that had cornered its prey and was ready to pounce. "Why," he said, delighted. "Into the real worlds."
Bellatrix's attention was suddenly snapped away and she darted to the window, but Voldemort hardly seemed to notice.
"If I go back to my reality," said Draco, picking his words carefully. "I'll just stay there. How does that help you?"
"First," said Voldemort. "You will be going to many, many worlds, worlds you couldn't even comprehend, so far from the home you know it will astound you. And secondly," he rested his fingers on his lips, as if to hide a smirk. "It will not be you technically doing the travelling."
Draco felt his skin prickle. "What does that mean?" he asked.
"It means," snapped Bellatrix, jumping in front of his face and forcing him to stumble backwards. "That my master is going to take your body for his own, and use it to go into the real worlds, any ones he wants, to rule them as he sees fit, and you will be able to do nothing but watch on as one by one, all realities will fall before him and his double. Does THAT clear things up for you, you stupid boy!"
"You are the vessel," said Voldemort, as if it were a great blessing. "You and Harry are the only ones with the power to step back into reality, and then return here, to this haven. And in our incorporeal forms, my partner and I have the power to seep inside your minds, take control of your bodies and carry out our deeds as we wish." He waved his hands again. "From this vantage point, we can have near omnipotence. Each Watcher has a way of seeing everything that happens in their world. We will be unstoppable."
Draco started at them both.
This was so much worse than he'd imagined.
"You want to possess me?" he said, taking a step back.
Bellatrix slammed him with another Cruciatus Curse before he even knew what hit him. He screamed out as his skin blazed with excruciating pain, collapsing to the floor, gasping for air, flailing out his legs.
"ENOUGH!" boomed Voldemort, and the pain vanished in an instant, leaving Draco blinking in shock and taking shuddery, slow breaths on the burgundy carpet of his father's study. He was aware from the corner of his eye of Bellatrix flinching away from her master. "There is no need for that," said Voldemort coldly.
"But-" spluttered Bellatrix.
"That is my body you abuse," Voldemort interrupted sternly. "The boy is now to be considered sacred. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes master," she gasped, and fell to her knees, bowing her head. "Please," she said into the carpet. "Please forgive me."
Draco swallowed and tasted blood. He must have bitten his tongue or cheek under the torture curse. He blinked slowly as Voldemort stepped over and gently touched Bellatrix's hair. "There is no need for that," he said soothingly. She looked up at him with wet doe eyes, and when he smiled she scrambled back on her feet, eagerness alight on her face.
"Shall we try it now?" she breathed.
His nod was barely visible, but she dived behind the desk again, her hands grabbing at Lucius' globe shaped drinks cabinet, flipping the lid to reveal not the bottles of spirits that should have been underneath, but several potion ingredients that Draco couldn't identify.
He could taste the horror in his throat as real as the blood he was swallowing. Voldemort was going to take over his body, like an imperius curse, controlling every movement, every word he spoke. How could he have been so stupid, of course they didn't want to destroy Limbo and the Multiverse, he had known the Dark Lord almost his whole life. He should have known power and control would always be their ultimate aim.
He tried to steady his breathing, still shuddery after all the pain Bellatrix had inflicted on him, and watched what she was doing.
"You need a spell to get into my head?" Draco asked, his voice coming out in a rasp.
Bellatrix, thankfully, ignored him. But Voldemort looked down at him, his white, snake-like face smooth from expression. "We require a little help to merge, something that Bellatrix will provide us with shortly."
So he still had a few minutes, longer if he was lucky. But luck seemed to be the only thing Limbo was incapable of conjuring.
Bellatrix was lining up the little bottles, pouches, boxes and phials along Lucius' desk, but her red eyes kept flicking warily at the window. Draco worried if she was looking at Harry, could she see the graveyard from here? Was he okay, had he run into his Voldemort yet – was the plan to take over his body too, so each of the Dark Lords had a vessel to step into the real worlds?
Draco couldn't imagine they would plan anything else. He wanted to warn Harry so badly, but he couldn't even help himself. He had to stop him, somehow. He couldn't let Voldemort get into any reality he chose. The damage he could do in those worlds was unthinkable. He could rally almost unlimited numbers of Death Eaters, reign terror over the Muggle populations, destroy the wizards and witches who opposed him over and over again. And with the Watchers locked in their dancing prison there would be no one to protect their universes, no one to guide them back from the chaos.
How could he stop the spell, how could he escape? He was beaten and bound, but could he charge Bellatrix, wreck some of the ingredients? He pulled at his ropes again, the raw skin chaffing painfully. There would be no way he could move that fast before they stopped him, he had no chance. But he couldn't just lie here and wait to be taken over, that was for sure. He wouldn't go down without a fight.
He needed to get the sword back from his father's desk, the one only he could use, but then what, fight Voldemort and Bellatrix at once? Maybe if the Horcrux had been destroyed, maybe he might have a chance. But he had no idea what Hermione or Ron, whoever had the bit of this Voldemort's soul, was doing.
His eyes drifted towards the window, and wondered how far up they were. Logically, it should have been a couple of floors, but nothing about the layout of this house was logical, it was like a dream. Perhaps if he could edge towards the window, he could get down to the ground if he imagined it hard enough. After all, he had imagined this whole scene, against the wishes of Voldemort and Bellatrix from what they'd said. Why couldn't he just make it so the ground was right outside the window, rather than several meters down?
An image flashed across his mind though; if he couldn't alter the landscape, of his body lying broken at the foot of the house, still and lifeless. Useless.
Clarity, cool and certain, drifted over Draco's mind like a gentle summer's breeze. He stopped panting and straining, and just lay still.
Voldemort wanted him because he was real, alive, because he could use his body in that state. So what if he changed that? What if he were to break his body beyond repair?
What if he killed himself?
xxx
Harry stirred. Something was jabbing him in the ribs, and he groaned in protest. "Wake up," hissed a voice, but he didn't want to listen, he felt light and clean, sensations he couldn't remember in what felt like forever.
Actually, what could he remember?
He stretched his muscles, but they didn't ache, he rubbed his eyes and blinked them open. It was night time, and this seemed right, as did the snow gently falling. But why wasn't he cold?
"Wake up!" came the voice again, and Harry blinked several times, taking a deep, cool breath into his lungs. There was grass beneath him, and mud, he moved his hands over it and tested his weight, pushing himself up into a sitting position. There was something hard behind his back, and as he turned he realised it was a headstone.
"About time," the voice said again, and Harry looked around confused. Until he saw a little red dragon crouched in front of him, his stubby arms crossed, his cobalt blue eyes glaring.
"Puff!" cried Harry, some of his memories coming back to him. He was in Limbo, the world was in danger, no, the whole universe, all the universes! Creatures had been after him, Draco had been with him, and there was a graveyard...
Puff huffed. "This is no time for sleeping," he griped, prodding Harry's leg through his jeans with a rather sharp claw.
"Alright," said Harry, still trying to shake away his foggy mind. Real fog wound around the two and the headstone, meaning he was having trouble getting a sense of what else was around them. "I," he said, faltering. "Someone attacked me, I think...hang on," he stopped looking around him and focused on just Puff. "Where did you go, you were in London, you went supernova on the Rhansyk, then we came here are you were gone."
Puff raised his hackles and jerked his snout up. "I had things to do," he said distractedly. "What happened to your body?"
Harry wanted to know what things could have been so important, but instead he found his hands resting on his arms, his thighs, his torso. "I don't know," he said, frowning. "I feel fine."
"Hmph," said Puff. "That's not good."
Something was dancing at Harry's brain. "What happened to me?" he asked. "Did you see?"
"I was busy," said Puff with a roll of his eyes. It was then Harry finally realised his was covered head to toe in blood.
Harry stared for a second. "Puff whose blood is that?" he asked in trepidation.
Puff didn't really answer. He just grinned and said "Yummy."
Harry swallowed, worry rising in his throat, and looked carefully through the fog. As it drifted by he could just about see a boot sticking up in a way that suggested it was attached to a foot on a body lying on its back. The way it was definitely not moving also suggested that body was dead.
"Rhansyk?" Harry asked, hoping Puff hadn't been slashing the throats of anyone friendly.
Puff inspected then licked his claws. "Tastes like chicken."
Harry decided not to worry about the deceased Rhansyk, he'd have them all dead if he could. "Was I with Voldemort?" he asked, still trying to place how he ended up sat in a graveyard. He remembered arriving here with Draco, then splitting up…
Suddenly he sat on his haunches, peering over the headstone, the one that had Sirius' name written on it. "Voldemort had me," he said breathlessly, his mind clearing up considerably. "And Bellatrix. They tied me up, they were doing some kind of ritual." He turned back to Puff. "Did you free me?"
Rather unflatteringly, Puff scoffed. "No," he said simply, tapping his foot. "You were asleep here, the stitched up men had found you but I came and ate them. Then I poked you."
Harry wrapped his fingers around the cold stone and looked out through the murky cemetery again. "Thanks," he muttered. "That's cleared everything up."
"You always ask the wrong questions," said Puff petulantly, sauntering to Harry's side. "Are you going to sit here all day?"
"Where did Voldemort go?" Harry asked, keeping his voice low. All he could see were headstones and fog. The house loomed over his left hand side further ahead, where it had been on the right next to him before so he had definitely moved around.
Puff sighed and shook his head. "They didn't go anywhere," he said. "They're over there." He pointed up in front of them. Harry swept his eyes over the scene for any movement, then picked his way between another couple of disintergrating Rhansyk bodies and several graves all bearing the now familiar names of the people who's deaths he'd supposedly caused.
"Are you sure?" he whispered to Puff, but he didn't need a reply. At that moment Bellatrix's peeling laughter drifted through the night, and he ducked behind the nearest headstone to conceal himself. "Puff," he said a little more sternly. "What aren't you telling me, why did they just let me go, how did I end up over there?"
Puff ground his sharp teeth together. "Always all the wrong questions you two," he griped. "I don't know that, how would I know that?"
Harry resisted the urge to snap back at him, and instead crept closer, listening to the unclear voices to guide him in the right direction.
There was a large weeping willow between him and the group, and Harry figured it was the perfect cover for him to get a better look. Cautious of who else might already be lurking in there, he edged carefully between the swaying branches, Puff still grumbling at his heals. But under the canopy it was empty and calm, so Harry sped forward, dropping to the ground and peeking through the tendrils.
What he saw on the other side almost stopped his heart.
Bellatrix was talking with someone. That someone was Harry. There was no mistaking it, he knew every inch of his own reflection, and there he stood looking smug as Bellatrix and the bored man Gebhard fussed over his right shoulder. He paused a moment, and looked down at his own right shoulder. It didn't hurt anymore, that was strange?
"I don't get it," he whispered in the merest breath. "Where did Voldemort go?"
Puff sniffed. "Smells like he's still there."
Harry looked back. "Is that…another me, from another universe?" That concept was an entirely plausible explanation to him, compared to a year ago when he would have denied any such thing was possible.
Puff just shrugged, leaving Harry to frown even deeper, an unpleasant, tingling sensation dancing up his spine. What kind of ritual had they done, had Voldemort turned into himself, like using polyjuice potion? Why, what was the point?
And why on Earth had they let him go, that seemed completely contrary to everything Harry knew about Voldemort. Even if they didn't need him anymore, Harry would have thought they would have just killed him.
Harry strained his ears. "I can't hear them," he muttered to himself in frustration, and Puff sighed in irritation again.
"They are talking," he hissed slowly and carefully. "About a portal." He rolled his eyes impatiently. "Humans."
Harry was so taken in by this information that he completely missed the insult. "Portal," he breathed back. "What portal, where too?"
The branches caught in a zephyr of snow and Harry dropped flat to the floor in case anyone was looking over. The Rhansyk were far enough away and totally absorbed in what was happening around the other version of himself, but he knew he couldn't be too careful.
"What portal, Puff?" he demanded again. "Does it have something to do with that other me, has Voldemort already gone through?"
He was face to face with the little dragon, looking into his deep blue eyes, but it was the reflection off his fangs that made Harry ease away a little. "No," said Puff haughtily.
Harry took a deep breath before answering. "'No' what?" he asked calmly. This seemed to work, he sensed Puff liked having one up on him.
"No, Voldemort has not gone through, they're saying the portal will take some time to open. The curly haired woman keeps calling the other you 'Master'."
That was it then, Voldemort must have altered his appearance to look like Harry, but for what reason he couldn't possibly fathom.
Puff suddenly arched his back like an angry cat, pivoted on his haunches and pounced out the back of the tree, away from the gathering of Rhansyk.
Harry automatically reached for his wand, and it wasn't until he had pulled it from his pocket did he realise that Bellatrix had last been in possession of it. He stared, dumbfounded, for a second, trying to work out just how he had got it back, when the soft sounds of a kafuffle drew him out from under the tree after Puff.
The Rhansyk was the skinny sailor boy Harry had seen deliver the message to Voldemort before. Puff had taken him by surprise from the looks of it, and ripped out his throat first so he couldn't call for help. The boy was making wet choking sounds and flailing around though, still fighting back as Puff slashed at his belly. The boy wasn't about to give up and die though, he was swinging his fists with extraordinary skill, and Harry saw a glimpse of why this boy had been able to sin enough to become a monster in his afterlife. He was a killer through and through.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry hissed, blasting the sailor off his feet. Puff didn't hesitate a second, he just launched himself at the boy and it was all over in a messy second.
There was a shout from the group they had been watching, and Harry's feet sped into action. "Go, before they find us!" he cried at Puff, who tore something bloody from the dead Rhansyk, grinned, and raced after Harry on his four little legs.
The pull that had drawn Harry so definitely to the graveyard was completely gone now. This made Harry nervous but at least he now felt his legs were his own again. Why hadn't he been more insistent he and Draco stayed together? He cursed himself bitterly, but now he had no hesitation.
"Into the house," he breathed as darkness and fog shielded them from the Rhansyk eyes he could feel behind them. The two of them darted between headstones inscribed with Harry's parents' and friends' names, his eyes scanning every inch of the building towering over their right hand side. Surely there must be a door that led inside soon?
"There!" cried Harry, spotting a closed, single wooden door up ahead, and relief coursed through him. He didn't even try opening it, he just cried "Alohomora!" and yanked the handle down.
They were standing in a dark kitchen, the bigger kind Harry would have expected to see in a hotel. So this was Draco's house?
He stepped forward, eager to keep the distance between him and the pursuing Rhansyk. If they had followed them it would be logical to check the first door they came to, and on that thought Harry nipped back to blast it with a quick "Colloportus," to lock it magically. Bellatrix was the only Rhansyk with a wand, and she would be too busy fussing over her beloved Voldemort to chase after some random noise, or at least that's what he hoped.
The house was quiet, and for the moment it gave Harry a sense of being safe. "Why would Voldemort change to look like me?" he wondered out loud as he and Puff navigated their way around the central island preparation counter, careful not to knock any pots or pans down with a crash.
Puff, who had jumped up to walk along the edge countertop on all fours, shrugged his scaly back, his claws clack-clacking on the counter. "I am pretty sure," he said in that nasally voice of his. "That that man is insane."
Harry couldn't argue with that. He shook his head. "It makes no sense, why would he change his appearance, where are they opening a portal too, why would they let me go?" He looked down at his hand. "And how did I get my wand back?" He wrapped his fingers around it, and Puff tutted.
"Why would you ask? Just be thankful. What's that music?"
Harry stopped, his senses on alert. "What?" he said after a moment. "What music, where's it coming from?"
Puff ran his tongue over his sharp teeth in deliberation. "Up," said the dragon, hopping back down to the floor, trotting along the murky corridor and looking up the stairs. "Human music, nasty, scratchy."
Harry looked around the dark and empty house, resisting lighting his wand so his eyes could grow accustomed to the shadows. It looked empty, like someone had just moved out, and it felt lifeless. "I can't hear it," he admitted, shaking his head. "What do you think it is?"
Puff hopped up a few steps, and sniffed the air. "I have no idea," he said, rubbing his nose as if what he'd smelt had tickled it. "All kinds of scents. Could be tasty."
He hopped up another few steps, and Harry darted over to the landing. "Wait," he hissed, looking around apprehensively. "We need to find Draco."
Puff blinked slowly. "I can't smell any humans in any direction but this one, but if you want to go gallivanting off you own way, don't let me stop you." He put on a front of being hurt, and placed a clawed hand on his chest, shook his head and closed his eyes.
Harry clenched his jaw. "Fine," he said, following up the staircase. "Lead the way."
Puff laughed at the back of his throat in a way that made it sound more like a growl. He spun around and began hopping up the steps again. Harry gave a glance back down the corridor to the kitchen; it didn't seem like anyone had followed them into the house, but still he wanted to keep his wits about him.
They reached the landing and headed left just as Harry heard the sound of glass breaking from down below. Puff's head snapped back before raising his eyes to Harry, who in turn jutted his chin, indicating they should leg it. The faint sound of crunching glass drifted up through the house as Harry and the dragon sped further into its depths.
"We know you're in here!" cried a voice, rough and husky.
"You can't hide from us!" called another, and excitable woman thought Harry, although they were running at such a rate the voices were fading even as the words were spoken.
Puff took them up another level of stairs, and Harry thought maybe he heard another shout, it could have even been a scream, coming from somewhere around on their floor. "Did you hear that?" he asked Puff, but the little dragon just kept on running.
"The music is this way," he whined as Harry looked over his shoulder, unsure.
"It could have been Draco," he argued.
"I smell him this way," Puff argued back, which made Harry concede to drop it. Maybe he hadn't heard anything, maybe it was the Rhansyk's voices bouncing off the walls? He trusted Puff's nose more than some half-imagined cry.
"Who's there!" demanded the husky voice, still far away but not enough to give Harry any comfort. "We know you're in here, come out and we won't hurt you!"
Both Harry and Puff scoffed at the same time.
They turned another corner as their Rhansyk pursuers called out after them again. But Puff pelted towards a set of double doors and skidded to a halt in front of them, plonking his bottom on the floor and swishing his tail like a dog that had lead his master to some sort of prize.
"Here?" said Harry confused, looking over his shoulder, expecting the Rhansyk to come charging around the corner. "I still can't hear anything?"
"Urgh, just open it," snarled Puff. Harry gritted his teeth and did as he was told, thinking that this might be a place to hide at any rate.
He swung the doors open to be greeted by a dark, empty ballroom. "Told you," said Puff triumphantly, scampering into the room.
Harry couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in disbelief. "Told me what?" he asked, stepping over the threshold. "I still can't hear any-"
His words died in his throat as he moved into the room. It was like he'd breached an invisible membrane and stepped into a different world within the ballroom. Abruptly, in the blink of an eye, it with lit up with hundreds of torches and candles in the chandeliers. Music and movement overwhelmed him, as suddenly he was standing on the edge of a great dance, whirling in a mass of bodies. He inhaled, and barely noticed as Puff darted back and slammed the doors shut again.
The noise drew the attention of the dancers, or some of them at least. "Help!" cried a burly man with a walrus moustache. "Don't just stand there lad, for the love of God, help us!"
Harry stared stupidly as the man wrenched fruitlessly against his partner, a beaming pretty girl in a many-layered gown who seemed to be enjoying the dance immensely.
"Effie said she saw a boy!" said another woman in a maid's uniform, pulling against her handsome partner. "Effie! Effie your boy is back!"
"What," stuttered Harry down at Puff as more and more of the struggling dancers began calling out to him. "What is this, what's happening?" Now he could hear the music he wished he couldn't. It was boomingly loud and fraught, a dramatic tango that was making his heart race.
Puff looked disappointed. "Watchers," he said grumpily. "And dolls. Can't eat either."
"Dolls?" Harry repeated in confusion. "What are dolls, what do you mean Watchers, like Alex?"
But Puff was in a sulk, and had dropped himself onto the floor with his arms folded and his gaze purposefully fixed on a candle dripping onto a vacant, plump chez long.
"That's Harry Potter!" yelled another man, further in the throng than the rest. He was twisting his head alarmingly, trying to get a proper look at Harry. "It must be Alex's boy, not Seamus'! Effie are you there, can you see!"
"Wait, what?" said Harry, his pulse quickening. "Seamus' boy, you mean Draco?" He stepped forward, approaching the dancers as they spun in front of him like a churning river. "Have you seen Draco Malfoy, was he here?"
There were so many voice shouting over the music, some at him, a lot at each other, Harry felt like a wave was crashing down on him.
"Look, it is the Potter boy!"
"Do something, get us out of here!"
"Effie! Can anyone see Effie!"
Harry had his wand out in front of him, uncertain what he should, or even could do, and his eyes glanced back towards the door. Were the Rhansyk on the other side, why hadn't they followed them in?
"I don't know any spells to separate them," he said breathlessly. He wasn't really talking to Puff, but the dragon responded anyway.
"Oh, well I guess we'd better run along then, it's not like they've seen the Malfoy human or could help you or anything."
As was probably his intention (or not, Harry couldn't really tell) Puff's words goaded him into action. He screwed up his face, and cast the first spell that came to mind. "Mobilicorpus!" he shouted at the couple who happened to be twirling past him.
Nothing happened to them, and the woman shrieked in frustration, kicking at her partner. But then from inside the crowd pushed an unattached dancer, a beautiful, cheerful woman who was making a beeline now for Harry.
"Stupefy!" Harry cried, hoping to knock the woman unconscious, but the spell hit her straight on and she didn't flinch. Harry stumbled backwards, and Puff launched for her. But as his claws slashed out it sounded like he met with metal, and other than a couple of sparks flying he did absolutely no damage.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry tried as Puff bounced off her. "Diffindo! Confringo!" Nothing worked, and now he was backed up against the double doors. "Protego!" he used instead, throwing up a shield charm over him and Puff, who had scuttled back and was now cowering behind his ankles. The woman reached out, his shield having no effect…
Without warning, the doors opened out behind Harry and he fell backwards. That's it, he thought, the Rhansyk had found them, it was a fate between the stitched up monsters or gleeful, possessed dancers.
But then the world lit up with a blinding light, and Harry felt a booming pulse rocket through his body and fly out through the room. He threw up his arms and cried out, as did most of the room by the wall of sound assaulting his ears. The music screeched to a halt, violins and cellos snapping strings and bows and clattering to the floor. He felt more than saw Puff jump into his lap as the pulse came again and then again before it stopped.
The shouts of the Watchers drew Harry's arms down from his face, and he breathed in and out steadily as he looked at all the people before him. The men, women and other creatures who had been forced into dancing were now managing to pull away from the grips of the captors, who in turn were jerking and twitching unnaturally. From those nearest to him, Harry could hear sounds of gears crunching and winding down mingled in with the curses and profanities of the Watchers pushing them down to the floor.
One of the handsome men was still smiling as he slammed into the luxurious, gold fringed carpet, his eyes fixed on Harry as he beamed genuinely and his body gave one last spasm, before becoming still.
Harry looked down at Puff who had his mouth hanging open as the Watchers hugged, punched the air and wept. Almost afraid of seeing what would greet him, Harry slowly turned his body around to look into the corridor beyond. What remained of their two Rhansyk pursuers lay smoking and disintegrating on the floor, so he knew it hadn't been them to free the Watchers.
Blinking, Harry's eyes moved upwards, along the bodies of the three men who were standing determinedly on the threshold of the doors leading into the ballroom.
Alex was trying to suppress a Cheshire cat grin. Godric's eyes were calculating the room and its inhabitants, his wand still pointed forwards. And in between them both stood the tiny, unassuming figure of the Librarian Merlin, his hands spread in front of him, his whole frame glowing with wisps of smoke curling upwards, power ebbing physically from him.
Harry looked back into the room, where people nearest the front had also stopped to stare at their rescuers, then back to the trio.
"See," said Puff squirming smugly against Harry's jeans. "I told you I had things to do."
xxx
Unable to stop herself from screaming, Sarah tried to pull away and lash out, but it only took her a second to recognise the bedraggled creature that was currently digging her fingers into her flesh.
"Hermione!" she cried, flinging her arms around the other girl. "Oh I'm so glad I found you! Are you okay, what's going on?"
"They took Terry's wand," Hermione stammered. She looked awful; her skin was grey, her lips were blue and her eyes were bloodshot red. "I didn't know what to do, I set of the fireworks-"
"I saw them!" interrupted Sarah happily. "Look, I found the Horcrux!" She pulled the key away from her neck to show her, but a noise caught Hermione's attention and her head snapped back over her shoulder.
"We have to keep moving," she said, pulling Sarah to her feet and moving them into the trees and the field behind.
"Hey," snapped Sarah, hurt. "I found the Horcrux, didn't you hear me?"
"We're not alone, they're after me," replied Hermione, marching them along, back towards the supermarket end of the road. Her voice was tight and detached, and Sarah suddenly got the impression that things were even worse than she realised.
"Who?" she said, snatching her arm out of Hermione's grip. "Who's after you?" Sarah suddenly came to a halt, like she was really seeing Hermione for the first time. "Hang on," she gasped, dread swimming in her guts. "Hang on you said someone took Terry's wand – where's Terry. Hermione, where's Terry?"
Hermione stopped a few feet ahead, and Sarah could see in the pale moonlight she was shaking, her eyes staring listlessly at the ground.
"He was protecting me," she said in barely more than a whisper.
Sarah didn't need any more of an explanation. "It's okay," she cried, her throat contracting as she dashed over and wrapped her arms around Hermione. The other girl was bigger, but she managed it. "It's okay, we'll change him back, we'll change them all back. We just need to find the spell caster, right? So-"
"Found him," said Hermione, pulling away and hugging herself, lifting her eyes to meet Sarah's.
Sarah gawped. "I'm sorry, what?"
"That's how Terry – he-" She swallowed and rubbed rainwater into her eyes. "There were hundreds of zombies and he lured them away so I could do the revealing spell with his wand. But then the Death Eaters showed up, the zombies got him and Crouch got me. But I got away, and I know where Quirrell's cauldron is, but without a wand…" She trailed off, shaking her head and hugging herself tighter.
Despite everything, Sarah found her face splitting into a massive grin. She reached into her pocket, and pulled out Hermione's wand with delight. The look on the other girl's face made every zombie she'd had to fight off worth it. "Oh," she squeaked, her face crumbling into tears and she reached out with trembling fingers. "Oh, oh."
"It was under the rubble at my house," Sarah explained. "So now you can stop the zombie spell, yeah?"
Hermione cradled her wand like beloved pet had been returned to her. "Yes," she said with a nod. "He's not even casting it any more, he said it was strong enough to work by itself."
Sarah couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "They just told you all this?" she said incredulously.
Hermione looked sheepish. "I pretended I'd help them," she explained. "I wanted to try and get the tooth but Crouch still has it, he put it in his pocket."
Sarah's face must have conveyed that what Hermione was saying was making no sense, so she sighed and started again.
"The zombie spell is a side effect of what they've done to the town. We were right, the curse and the dimensional leap are linked."
Even though when they'd been discussing it, Sarah had agreed with the theory, she still found herself shocked. "How?" she spluttered.
Hermione rolled her shoulders. She seemed to have a fresh spark of life in her since getting her wand back, and started walking hurriedly again. "They're using everyone's minds as an enigma machine. They're trying to work out how to open a portal and follow their Voldemort into Limbo."
"That's insane," said Sarah, deadpan.
Hermione shrugged. "You've obviously never met Crouch or Quirrell. They're obsessed. I told them I was from another reality and could do what they wanted."
"But that was a bluff, yes?" clarified Sarah sternly. She'd had enough traitors in the form of Peter Pettigrew to last a lifetime.
"Of course," said Hermione hastily. "But Crouch has something we need." She reached up and gently held the key that was resting so heavily on Sarah's chest. Sarah felt her eyes go wide.
"Something to kill it?" she said.
Hermione nodded. "A Basilisk tooth. Do you remember Draco telling us that Crouch looked after the one that attacked your school?"
"No," admitted Sarah. "But if it does the job, that's all I care about."
"It's got a deadly venom in, my Harry almost died from it. Seamus said magic poison would be enough to destroy it, so I'm sure this would do."
"Okay," said Sarah resolutely. "Then we need to stop going in this direction, don't we?"
Hermione raised her eyebrows and stopped walking. "But they're chasing me?"
"But," replied Sarah emphatically. "We need to get the tooth and stop the curse, yes. And now you have your wand we can do that."
Hermione bit her lip, then nodded. "Yes, you're right. We need to tackle them, us two."
Sarah managed a weak smile. "Two is better than one," she said.
Their sweet moment was spoiled by a zombie boy bursting through the trees. Sarah rose her wand to defend herself, but Hermione beat her to it.
A blaze of sparks tore through the air, blasting the zombie backwards in shock. The blue electricity still crackled like it was absorbing the magic, but the force of it rocked him off his feet. "Come on!" cried Hermione, grabbing Sarah's arm and steering them both back on the road. "They'll have seen that, and we need to get back to the cauldron!"
Sarah limped back onto the high street, but she only made it a few steps before Hermione wheeled on her and fired an anti-inflammatory spell at her foot, followed by a pain killer.
"Better?" she asked.
Sarah resisted the urge to swear. "You really are better with your own wand, aren't you?"
Hermione managed to grin despite her depleting state. "Those Death Eaters aren't going to know what's hit them."
xxx
Ron spluttered in shock, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
"You betrayed us!" screamed Abbey, both hands on the tomahawk to stop it from shaking. "You let them into our HOME!"
Crabapple looked genuinely terrified. "Now everyone keep calm," she said, waving her arms between Death Eaters and students. The Death Eaters seemed to have gotten over their shock at being attacked by fireballs and were practically growling at the teenagers facing them down. "Abigail, you don't know what you've got there."
"Don't I?" she challenged, levelling the tomahawk parallel with the ground, pumping out another mass of flames that blazed through the rain and exploded into another unfortunate tree, causing several people to duck, screaming, batting flames from their robes.
Ron thought maybe he understood then, why Abbey had left him alone. She'd gone back to the hall of Monuments, somehow got the artefact from the Thunderbird cabinet. The artefact that had burned for a hundred years.
"They killed kids!" yelled a boy with a jade and gold tie. "They're lying in the street!"
"How could you!" snarled another Firefly girl with ebony skin being held back by a much larger boy she was almost clawing in her fervour.
"Shut up you whelp!" said one of the Death Eaters, dancing on his toes and throwing edgy looks at Crabapple. She still had her hands up.
"No one's dead," she said. "This isn't how it has to be, kids back away, back away!"
"Chris is dead," Abbey retaliated, brandishing the tomahawk. "And unless someone stops you he won't be the last."
Ron was breathless, panicked. They had maybe seconds before someone snapped. He had to get the hat to Abbey.
But she had other ideas.
"Hey Ron!" she called, the tension ready to erupt. "I found your magic fire!"
She launched the tomahawk into the air, and Crabapple lurched forward screaming "NO!" Spells exploded from both sides, and people were blasted off their feet in a shower of colour. Ron scrambled up, his trainers slipping through the mud, his eyes on the blade twisting over and over through the air.
"Accio axe!" he bellowed, and felt the spell snag the weapon and send it shooting into his outstretched hand. Luckily his fingers wrapped around the hilt, but the flames were scorching and he felt the heat on his hand, forearm, face.
He dropped to the ground and rolled by the protection of the car as screams and hollers rang through the air. Ron couldn't see what was going on, but it didn't sound good. People were all around him, taking cover in the trees and pulling injured comrades away from the fighting. Curses were so thick through the air the rain was turning to steam, and Crabapple was screaming at them all to stop.
"Non lethal force!" she was bellowing, but Ron had a terrible feeling the Death Eaters weren't listening.
But he didn't have time to think about anyone else just yet, he only had one shot at this. So he thrust his wand away and snatched the red cap from where he'd shoved it in his back pocket, threw it on the ground, and drove the tomahawk into it as hard and as fast as he could.
A dome of light exploded outwards from the hat, throwing Ron to the ground. All the sound dipped out, and then the energy was pulled back in, centring around the hat.
Was that it? thought Ron blearily. Had he done it, was it destroyed? The tomahawk had flung from his hand and the rain was pelting down on him lying in the mud, making him feel like it was trying to suck him below.
His ears were ringing as he attempted to slog his limbs out of the clawing mulch, but he could still hear the shouting around him. There was a pillar of light shining upwards from the Horcrux, and Ron really hoped that meant it was dead. But, a voice niggled at the back of his mind, surely if it was dead it would just be dormant, back to a normal cap?
There was movement from within the pillar as he squinted it the brightness, and Ron's heart hammered in his chest.
Someone stepped out of the light.
It was a boy, of average height, toned muscles and a t-shirt on that read 'East County High Football Team.'
"Chris?" said Ron, shielding his eyes from the light and the rain. But how could it be? Chris was dead, he was a Muggle, his ghost would have just crossed straight over. But here he was, misty and outlined in blue, his light hair at odd angles, swinging his car keys around on his finger.
"Oh Ron," he sneered, his phantom eyes glistening. "Look what you did to me."
People were shouting and fighting all around him, but it was like Ron was in his own little bubble, just him, and the morbid vision of a boy he had barely been able to call friend before his life was snuffed out in front of his eyes.
"No," croaked Ron. "No, you're not Chris, he's dead, the Horcrux is dead – why didn't it work!"
"Because you killed me," Chris spat out. He walked forwards and Ron scurried back on his elbows. "I trusted you and you let me down Ron, you're useless."
"No," stammered Ron, flinching as a Death Eater came running towards him, but they were blasted off their feet before they got close enough to do any damage. Ron silently thanked whoever his saviour was, but didn't take his eyes away from the vision of Chris.
This had to be the Horcrux, Ron couldn't think it would possibly be anything else. But why? Seamus had said magic fire would kill it, as far as Ron could see the only thing it had done was bring it more to life.
"No," Ron insisted. "You're not real, you're just that hat." He pawed around, finding the hilt of the tomahawk and extracted it heavily from the mud. "You're a bit of You-Know-Who, you're not Chris, you're the stupid hat!" But Chris sneered at him, making him feel pathetic as he barely managed to hold the blade aloft.
"And what are you hoping to do with that?" hissed Chris with malice. "You couldn't manage to do anything by yourself, so you dragged me and A.J. into this mess and I died!"
Ron swallowed down a retch and tried to keep the trembling axe steady. "I'm sorry," he found himself saying as Chris took another step forward. "I'm so sorry." Even if this wasn't really Chris, the pretend version of him was right. It was Ron's fault, he should never have let two Muggles get mixed up in magical business, be lead into the path of You-Know-Who. He was so selfish. And weak, selfish, weak and stupid.
"You're nothing without Harry and Hermione," said Chris, a wicked smile curling on his lips. "This is what happens when people rely on you. You let them down."
"No," he whimpered, screwing up his face, but hot tears were trying to seep out and mingle with the cold rain. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry."
"Ron!" cried Abbey, and he blinked from his reverie to see her grappling hand to hand with a robust woman in black robes. "That ain't Chris, you know it ain't-!" The woman spun her and she went flying, her head cracking into a tree.
"NO!" screamed Ron, but snapped around to see Chris laughing.
"See?" he said. "You can't do anything right."
Ron jerked his head back around. Abbey was lying still on the floor for the second time in an hour, and he couldn't tell if she was alive or dead. He twisted his body around in the leaves and the mud, and tomahawk still in front of him. "No," he breathed, his anger for Abbey pushing the word out. "You're not Chris, and even if you were, I didn't kill you! Bellatrix killed you!"
He took a step forward and the phantom Chris took a step back. "If it hadn't been for you I never would have left home," the other boy countered.
"You're not Chris!" replied Ron through gritted teeth, but the ghost laughed again.
"But you know I'm right, don't you?" he said cruelly. "In your heart, you know I'm only telling you what you already know – that you're a screw up? That it is your fault that Chris died, that you should have protected him and now you'll have to live the rest of your pathetic life with that weighing you down." He smirked. "It would be better for everyone if you just died."
Ron felt the tomahawk dropping, and Chris seemed to swell in size. There was movement around him and people were apparently noticing the glowing boy by the car, but no one approached them.
"I mean, really," Chris carried on. "Who would miss you if you were gone, who would care? Your family in this world hate you for taking their real son away, they don't want you, and if you're family can't stand you, who's left?"
Ron's throat constricted, but his chest fluttered. "Harry," he croaked. "Hermione-"
Chris swelled again as he beamed with mirth, towering several feet above Ron now. "You truly believe that?" he scoffed. "The Boy That Lived and his brilliant best gal – that they'd even notice if you weren't sniffing around their heals anymore?" Chris' eyes grew cold. "It'd be a relief."
Ron tried to stifle the shudder that rattled his chest, but it was crushing him down as much as the pouring rain. "No," he managed to breath out though. "No Harry isn't like that." He hoisted the blade up a few inches again, and gripped the hilt as tight as he could. "You may be right about me, but not Harry, not Hermione, they'd never leave me behind, I know." And he did know. When he'd though that very fear had been proven to him, when Harry's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, he'd been shown how wrong his was eventually. It was his own stupidity that had ostracised him from the other two, not them. "Harry and Hermione would miss me, I'm important to them."
"No," said Chris coldly. "You're not."
But Ron had something to grasp now, something to boost him forwards. "Yes, I am," he retorted stubbornly. "And you are not Chris, and even if you were, I didn't kill you!"
Chris sneered. "Because it wasn't your curse? You think that lets you off the hook? You shouldn't have dragged me and A.J. into this, you put us in harm's way!"
"You're right," said Ron, sticking his chin in the air, the tomahawk pointed at Chris' smoky blue head. "I was selfish, I wanted their help. But I didn't cast that curse, and I'm not going to let you stop me."
He sucked in a deep breath and finally lunged with the flaming axe, swinging it clumsily through Chris' transparent body.
He only felt a small amount of resistance as the blade tore through the misty form, but the phantom screamed and twisted, flailing in what might have been mistaken for pain. There was another gust of wind, a force that made Ron rebound before he even got the sword all the way through Chris' body, and he stumbled backwards again, the Thunderbird god's weapon sizzling in the rain as he struggled to keep it aloft.
Why wasn't the tomahawk killing the Horcrux! Did he need something else? He didn't have anything else, Ron thought miserably as he got his footing again.
Chris was still growing, but his features were warping, becoming distorted like they were melting. He was screaming dementedly, and Ron sensed rather than saw people moving away, fleeing into the trees.
"What IS that!" someone screamed.
A pair of hands grabbed Ron's shoulders, and he almost swung around with his blade, but a familiar voice called his name just in time.
"Ron!" slurred Abbey groggily. "We have to go!" Her eyes were blinking but wild, trying to take in the spirit form in front of them, and a gash of red blood was still clear on her temple despite the pounding rain.
"No," he uttered, pulling free and standing before the mutated Chris again. "That's the Horcrux, I have to stop it!"
He realised though that the oversized boy had stopped changing and was flexing its new body now, in the shape of another boy, this one dark haired with sharp features and robes that looked oddly familiar.
"Master!" wailed Crabapple from her position still on the road, and fell to her knees. The phantom was about ten foot tall and grinning maliciously. It turned back to Ron, advancing threateningly.
"You have no power over me, boy," he said in a warm, English voice. "You cannot stop me, you are weak and alone and my servants will crush you down!"
Tom Riddle, realised Ron with a sickening lurch. He was talking to the young Voldemort.
"He ain't alone!" screamed Abbey, shooting a spell at the Horcrux, but it just sailed through like it was a ghost. However the other children saw, and those not fighting for their lives against Death Eaters started shooting at Riddle too, cursing and threatening it.
"Get outta here!"
"Leave us alone!"
"Take THAT!"
The phantom didn't even seem to notice, just stalked even closer towards Ron and Abbey. But Ron's heart was swelling. These students were all strangers to him, and yet they weren't backing down, weren't leaving him to die at the hands of the Death Eaters and the terrible creation only feet away.
The adults were retaliating, blasting down the attacking children to stop them firing on Riddle. This had to end, now.
Ron jumped forward and slashed at Riddle again with the flame, but he jerked unnaturally, his features moving around the blade rather than stepping back from it. Ron grunted and swung clumsily back on the rebound, storming forwards, forcing Riddle back towards the red hat. The blade was getting closer and with every hit Riddle twitched and roared out. "You won't win!" said Ron, sweat running down his back. "I won't let Harry down, you hear me? I WON'T!"
He flicked the tomahawk around with a sizable grunt, straining his muscles and levelled it just like Abbey had done, pumping out the ferocious fireball. Riddle roared in fury as it tore though his smoky form, dispersing it into something ghostly and far less scary, so Ron carried on the momentum, swung the axe around again, and drove the blade firmly down through the centre of the red baseball cap.
The Horcrux spirit suddenly pulled back together in its form, but as it did it dropped to his knees, screaming. Ron stumbled backwards, leaving the tomahawk vibrating in the ground and tripping over his own trainers, landing back in the mud. "Move!" cried Abbey, her hands under his arms, dragging him backwards.
Like before, Riddle was melting into something unrecognisable, but this time he was shrinking in size too, like ice cream on a hot day. His screams were inhuman, but Ron wasn't scared anymore.
"Die!" he shouted, pulling away from Abbey and crawling through the gritty, soaking leaves. "You hear me? DIE!"
The Horcrux's screams were fading, like an echo, and within moments the silvery light had vanished, plunging the forest into darkness once again.
"What have you done!" wailed Crabapple. Ron had quite forgotten about her, but she was steamrollering towards them, fury contorting her face.
"Expelliarmus!" yelled several voices at once, blasting her with the spell from all angles. Her body lifted off the ground with the impact, before she dropped back into the mud with a squelch. Ron looked up to see the students grim-faced and panting. Some of the Death Eaters were stubbornly still fighting on, but most had vanished during his defeat of the Horcrux and Crabapple's demise spurred another couple to apparate on the spot. It looked like a few staff members had managed to join the skirmish and the remaining followers of You-Know-Who were quickly realising the odds weren't in their favour anymore.
It was over.
Ron managed a strangled sort of gasp of relief, then fell into the mud himself, his vision swimming, his limbs shaking and his heart racing at a million miles an hour.
"Ron," cried Abbey, rolling him over and digging her fingers into his arms. "Ron are you okay, you did it, please, don't – don't-"
But the darkness felt warm, like a blanket and a nice cup of tea. Ron thought maybe he was smiling as his eyes fluttered closed. "Go get 'em Harry," he murmured, then let sleep take him whole.