Harry blazed through the corridors of the castle, his fierce determination increasing with every step. You're not getting her, Tom, he thought. You got my parents. You got Sirius. You're not getting her.

The thought of Sirius almost made him pause. He remembered the last time he had rushed out to save someone because of a vision he'd received through his scar; was Voldemort just trying for an encore of the same trick? Was Ginny, in fact, safe and sound in a completely different part of the castle, and the sight of her trussed and tormented sheer illusion?

No, it wasn't. He was sure of that. He remembered his false vision of Sirius, the previous year; there had been nothing there that Voldemort was incapable of inventing. But, this time, he had looked straight into Ginny's eyes, and had seen in them the courage that he knew so well – the courage built on trust in love and the certainty that goodness would conquer. Voldemort couldn't have duplicated that in a million years; even if he had tried, there would have been a note of mocking falsity about it that would have given the secret away. No, what he had just seen was definitely reality.

Besides, what would have been the point of a ruse? There was no prophecy in the Astronomy Tower that only he could handle; in fact, there wasn't much of anything in the part of the Astronomy Tower where Voldemort and Ginny were. It was a deserted, rather cobwebby nook just off the main stairway; he'd gone past it a hundred times on his way to class, and it had never merited a second thought. That was presumably why Voldemort had selected it: being an utterly insignificant and out-of-the-way spot – yet one that Harry was sure to recognise – it was perfect for a final showdown between Dark Lord and Chosen One, with no other Leaguers or Death Eaters interfering.

And that was the real reason why Harry was heading for the Astronomy Tower. He had no illusions that Voldemort had accidentally let his Occlumency slip for a moment; he was as sure as Emerald was that Voldemort had wanted him to see what he had seen. But it wasn't a trap; it was a challenge. You or me this time: that was what Voldemort was saying. And Harry was only too happy to take him up on it.

And now he had almost reached the place. He put on an extra burst of speed, and rounded the corner –

And then he stopped.

Not out of fear, or surprise. The scene that met his eyes was exactly what he had known it would be: Voldemort was standing beneath the window, awaiting Harry with a quiet smirk on his inhuman face; Ginny was hanging suspended in midair near the centre of the room, the arrows from her quiver lying scattered on the floor, her hair brushing against them as her body slowly rotated about an invisible axis. Nor was it because of any sudden reluctance to take on his adversary: on the contrary, the sight of Ginny's helpless indignity had only reinforced his desire to clean the floor with Thomas M. Riddle.

No, he had stopped, quite simply, because he had been unable to go on. The instant his foot had crossed the threshold into Voldemort's chosen meeting-place, every muscle in his body had suddenly felt as though it were straining against almost-hardened concrete; however hard he tried, his body resolutely refused to move any faster towards Voldemort than the Eurasian Plate was, at that moment, moving southeast.

Voldemort waved his left pinkie finger, and summoned a gold watch out of midair. "Forty seconds," he said, arching an eyebrow. "Slower than I expected, Harry. Is the Speed Force losing its vigour, or did you stop to exchange pleasantries with the Grey Lady?"

"Harry!" said Ginny, her Clouded eyes alight with sudden hope. "I knew you'd come. Use my Static-Pulse Arrow – the one with the solenoid in the head. If you vibrate it the right way when you throw it, it should cancel out the wand cores in his fingers."

I would if I could, Ginny, Harry would have said, had his tongue been any more mobile than the rest of him. But it wasn't, and so the only response that Ginny got to her poignantly useless advice was Voldemort's mocking laugh. "I'm afraid, my dear Ginevra," he said, "that your would-be saviour is in no position to cancel out anything. But thank you for the warning." And he Vanished the Static-Pulse Arrow with a lazy wave of his thumb.

"Perhaps, Harry," he added, reaching down and picking up an object from the floor, "you failed to notice this when you came in just now." He held up the object for Harry to see: a lacquer tetrahedron with the symbols 嬈 倀 painted in red on each face. "Jao Ch'ang – an ancient Chinese poltergeist-trapping spell. The faster you enter, the slower you leave – assuming that you leave at all, which I think is unlikely in your case."

Harry's heart sank. Of course, he should have expected something like this; what had possessed him to think that Voldemort would ever fight fair? He'd been a fool – and now his folly was about to lose the wizarding world its greatest symbol of hope. What a way to repay his mother's sacrifice…

"Oh, I see," said Ginny, sounding uncannily like her own mother. "So you don't dare fight Harry unless he can barely move. Why were we ever afraid of a filthy coward like you, anyway?"

"Do you hear an insect buzzing, Harry?" said Voldemort coolly. "I believe that your friend hopes to provoke me into forgetting about you – perhaps even into inadvertently breaking this charm. How little she understands. Fifteen years, Harry – fifteen years and more, and not a day of it gone by without my dreaming of this moment. I lost my first chance, two years ago, because I was foolish enough to give you a chance to defend yourself; I have rectified that error now. All that remains are two little words – two words that no ill-mannered young blood traitor (who will, rest assured, be punished afterward) could possibly distract me from speaking."

As if in a dream, Harry saw Voldemort raise his right index finger until it was aimed directly at his scar; as if in a dream, he heard him cry, with a howl of triumph, "Avada Kedavra!"

And the body of Harry Potter – Boy Who Lived, Scarlet Speedster, Chosen One, Fastest Wizard Alive – fell with a thud to the floor, as lifeless as anything could ever be.