MARKED

"I am going to destroy you, Harry Potter."

"You know, that threat gets more frightening every time I hear it."

TWENTY SIX: Out of the Locket

Harry's heart skipped several beats as he realised that he was no longer standing next to Ron and Hermione; somehow, incredibly, he had been transported somewhere without even feeling a thing. But where he was … he had absolutely no idea, and it filled him with a cold dread.

Blinking slightly to clear his head, he glanced around uncertainly. He stood in a forest full of tall, substantial pine trees so densely packed together that they created an opaque darkness thick enough to be midnight, yet he was certain that when he had left Ron and Hermione in the cave, it had been daytime – a dreary daytime at that – but nevertheless, a different time zone.

The smell of pine was so overpowering that Harry failed to notice the most disturbing phenomenon of the entire situation until he took a tentative step forwards – and left his body behind.

Well, it appeared to be his body, but it was oddly transparent and smoky. He looked down at his own legs; they appeared solid enough. He pinched himself; it hurt. Turning back to the new apparition of himself next to … himself, he reached out a hesitant hand to touch his own vaporous sleeve. His hand went straight though an oddly cold haze, which was his body, apparently in limbo. Though the more Harry stared at his ghostly doppelganger, he noticed that it appeared to be sleeping. Standing up quite straight, but sleeping. In some bizarre twist of magic, he felt sure that somehow, his essence had split when he was transported, and this did nothing to ease his mind.

Taking a deep breath and inhaling the sickly pine aroma, Harry stepped forwards once more. The ground was unsettlingly springy, due to the infinite amount of needles littering the forest floor. As he raised his head, Harry could see a dim greenish haze above his head, as though the sky itself was a dull green like the trees. Even squinting at it did not help. He moved his hand toward his pocket, feeling undeniably vulnerable, and gripped his wand in reassurance before walking onwards.

It seemed inevitable, even as he thought of it, that magic would not work in this place, wherever it was, as every place he had been previously that was linked to a Horcrux somehow rendered magic unusable. Nevertheless, Harry raised his wand above his head and whispered in a hoarse voice, "Point me!"

To his utter surprise, a blue arrow shot gracefully out of his wand and pointed to what must have been north. Feeling slightly relieved, Harry continued for five minutes, walking in as straighter line as he could manage; the thick winding trees made it very difficult. Before long, Harry was almost certain that the landscape did not look any different. He raised his wand and uttered the direction spell again; the arrow now pointed directly behind him, yet he was sure he had not changed his direction. What was going on?

He turned in the direction of the arrow and tried to sustain it, so he could see exactly where it was pointing. After a further five minutes, Harry was certain that he hadn't actually moved, and yet he was sweating – the arrow had gone again. Harry repeated the spell again and again, but each time the arrow changed direction.

Don't panic … Harry told himself, though his breathing quickened. He turned abruptly left and began to jog. The jog swiftly turned into a sprint and Harry stumbled once or twice before finally tripping right over, but it did not hurt; the carpet of pine cushioned his fall considerably. Harry scrambled clumsily to his feet, pulling needles out of his hands and staring around once more. Nothing had changed.

Before he could stop it, panic spread through his body like poison. He could have been there for hours and not realised it … where the hell am I?

Harry leaned against a tree and took several deep breaths, trying to not throw up as the pine scent overwhelmed him. All of a sudden, the locket felt incredibly heavy around his neck and very warm against his chest.

That's why I'm here, he thought to himself. The locket.

Abandoning the Point Spell, Harry raised his wand again and muttered "Lumos," as the darkening trees were causing visibility to become an issue. He lifted the locket over his head and held it in his hand, chain and all. They had tried everything possible to prize it open, both magical and physical, but it hadn't worked. However, something within Harry told him to try again. Why, though? It's not likely to work … but again, almost a nagging sensation told him that it was the right thing to do …

Forgetting his fear for a moment, Harry slid his fingernails into the groove around the edge of the silver locket and pulled. In an instant, the locket snapped open, as though it had been well oiled every day since its creation. Harry peered cautiously into the opening, all of a sudden very aware that this was part of Voldemort's fragmented soul, and held it away from his face.

At first, Harry thought there was nothing in there, but then abruptly, there was an almighty rush of wind that seemed to come from within the locket itself and it blasted Harry backwards with such a force that his feet left the ground and he landed hard against a tree, striking the back of his head, winded. Stars exploded in front of his eyes and his back ached … but this did not stop him from witnessing what was happening right before his eyes …

A green smoke was unfurling from the locket metres away from him on the floor; first a thin strip of smoke, then it began to billow and expand into a large haze of an emerald-coloured cloud. Harry watched transfixed, still dazed by his most recent encounter with the pine tree which he now sat against.

The green cloud spread and obscured his vision, entering his lungs, causing him to cough and splutter when a horrible thought entered his mind as he tried to get to his feet… what if it was poison gas?

But then a deeper knowledge informed him that gassing an enemy was not Voldemort's style. No sooner had he thought this, the smoke began to clear in front of him and an iron fist clutched at his heart as he saw, quite clearly, that there was somebody standing in front of him, metres away.

For one heart-stopping moment, Harry thought that it was Voldemort himself … but as his eyes adjusted, he saw that it wasn't. The figure was, for a few seconds, just like the other Harry in a smoky, transparent form. But before long, it became more defined, more solid and more … human.

Dark and heavy eyebrows matched black hair and rose in a judgmental arch above sinister eyes and a prominent nose. The jaw jutted out in an angular, almost pointy sneer before thin, white lips. The slim body of the figure was robed in a floaty green cloak, fluttering in a non-existent wind as he pressed long, spindly fingers together. Harry knew, fear overriding curiosity, who this must be; he did not need an introduction.

When the figure of the tall, frightening man in front of him spoke, it was in a richly strong voice laced with scorn and strength.

"Harry Potter. I am Salazar Slytherin."

- - - - -

"Harry … Harry!" Hermione hissed anxiously at the still, smoky form of Harry back in the dimly lit cave. "Ron … what do we do?"

Ron's face was white. "I dunno … what was he thinking?"

Hermione shook her head, chewing her fingernails, her face in anguish.

"Try again," Ron said.

Hermione reached out a hand to try and touch Harry's shoulder, but it went straight through him again. She withdrew it as though she had been burned, but in truth, it was freezing cold, like a ghost.

"I don't get it," said Ron, looking dumbstruck at Hermione. "Has he gone anywhere at all?"

Hermione stared at the form of Harry. "I don't know … I don't know … perhaps it's in his mind – but then why … why has his body gone all …"

"He can't hear us," Ron said, walking around the cave. They had established this since they both yelled at him until their throats were hoarse. "So he must have … split something … the locket must've split his essence or something."

Hermione looked at Ron. "Yes … you're right … but that's such advanced magic, I wasn't even sure it was possible."

"This is You Know Who, Hermione. Anything is possible … so part of him is here, but part of him is somewhere else. What does that mean?"

Hermione said nothing.

"What happens when your essence is split? Are you … OK?"

Again, Hermione was silent. It seemed she did not want to answer Ron's question for fear of voicing her own fears. Ron exhaled deeply and spoke again.

"He's on his own. We're just going to have to trust him," Ron said in a small voice. "He's not stupid … he can deal with it."

Hermione looked at Ron, her brown eyes wide and pleading, as though she really wanted to believe him.

- - - - - -

Harry couldn't even explain to himself how he had known exactly who stood before him so solidly. He couldn't explain why Slytherin was the first name that jumped to his mind when the figure had unfurled itself from the locket when the Slytherin Harry had learnt about had died many centuries ago.

"It was foretold that we would meet," Slytherin began, his voice deep and rumbling, and very much alive. "A prophecy was made when I was alive that I would meet the one to vanquish a Dark Lord."

Harry swallowed and moved slightly against the tree; his back ached very badly and his head throbbed. He had never heard of the prophecy that Slytherin was referring to.

"What … how – how …" Harry began, but couldn't decide which question he wanted answered first.

"You have questions I see …" Slytherin said in a low, dangerous voice.

Something stirred in Harry, and it wasn't only his previous knowledge about the serpentine founder of Hogwarts, it was the way he was eyeing Harry hungrily that made him see that this … apparition, ghost, or somehow human, was dangerous and not to be trusted.

"You wish to know where we are?" Slytherin continued, as though he had not noticed Harry's brain warning him. "We are in a representation of a forest in Albania."

"A representation?" Harry said, trying to keep his voice even and not shake.

"These trees are real," Slytherin said, touching the closest pine to him, "and we are real … but this place does not exist."

Harry did not try to fathom the mechanics of what had just been said; only that this was some kind of alternate universe.

"Albania?" Harry said, a memory stirring.

"Yes. The Dark Lord found it … fitting, seeing as he created one of his Horcruxes in a place very much like this …"

So Slytherin knew about the Horcruxes … was he a Horcrux?

"And that's why my essence has split? Because this place doesn't exist?" Harry said, trying to comprehend this impossible fact.

"Yes. Part of you remains where you were. But that does not mean you are safe there … if you are destroyed here, you die in reality. Your mind makes it real."

"And you're … you're a Horcrux?" said Harry, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

Slytherin half-smirked. "I am … a recent addition; although, one could argue that there is nothing recent about Salazar Slytherin. The locket is now worthless, of course," he added, gesturing carelessly behind him.

Harry's brain was working furiously. Through his ever-present terror at facing one of the greatest wizards of all time in whatever form, a certain curiosity stole over him.

"So Voldemort knew that I had the locket …and tried to make it impossible …"

Slytherin said nothing, but that constant smirk was playing around his thin pale lips and Harry didn't like it one bit.

"I believe your next question was how. It is true – I had never thought it possible. I am technically dead, but there was a similar phenomenon not long ago I am told …"

"Riddle's diary …" Harry said aloud, more to himself than to Slytherin.

"Yes … the Dark Lord informed me of the spell when it had been done. I myself, very like he, went to many lengths to make sure that my legacies were not forgotten."

Slytherin was speaking with a fierce kind of power, as though he were angry.

"Many believe that my Basilisk in the chamber was my only remnant … but I was far more intelligent than that. When the one worthy came along in the form of a Dark sorcerer, I hoped that he would know what to do … the charm to invigorate the memory I preserved is very complex … few will risk it, and yet here I am."

"So why are you here?" Harry said, his voice breaking slightly. "Why are you not with him?"

"Because I only exist here, Potter. The downside to the charm … but no matter. For if my work here is successful, my legacy will continue whether I am by the Dark Lord's side or not."

It seemed very odd to hear the great Slytherin call Voldemort 'The Dark Lord' when Harry was fairly sure that Voldemort had modelled much of his behaviour and stemmed most of his ideas from the figure in front of him. Yet the way Slytherin was speaking about Voldemort was highly significant … it was almost as though Voldemort had hoodwinked this prodigy to do his bidding … therefore making him, really, the most powerful sorcerer in the world …

"And what work exactly do you mean?" said Harry.

Slytherin gave a real smile this time. "Why, by preventing you from destroying this Horcrux. By destroying you, Harry Potter."

"You know, that threat gets more frightening every time I hear it," Harry retorted bravely, playing for time. He had been prepared for Slytherin saying this, but he had to keep him talking whilst he thought of a way to get out of the situation …

"What's in it for you?" he asked, his hand gripping his wand very tightly. "If you only exist here, how can you benefit?"

"I have mentioned already, Potter … I wished for my work to continue. I began the whole notion of pure-bloodedness and the right to be educated. It is what split me from the other founders. The Dark Lord believes in the same concept. If he is the winner of this – war –" (he spat in a derisive tone as though he believed there was no such thing,) "then all those who are unworthy will be purged and eliminated and the race of wizardkind will be pure once more."

White hot anger licked at Harry's insides.

"What about half-bloods then? Half-bloods like Voldemort?" he spat at Slytherin.

Slytherin's smirk faltered for the first time. "I was informed that you were insolent. I see I am not disappointed."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that's right. I'm insolent. Insolent enough to do this –"

Harry had been weighing up what the most effective spell would be to use against this very real, very dangerous representation of Slytherin. Knowing that he could do it, realising with every particle of his being that he could bring off spell to give him time to run and gain the upper hand, he thought, harder than ever before, consciously within his mind of the incantation.

'Crucio!'

Slytherin had clearly not been expecting Harry to use this curse, and so his parry was not as effective as it may have been. Nevertheless he blocked the largest blow of the curse, but was knocked off his feet. Harry turned tail and ran for it.

He did not look back, nor did he pause stop when the tree centimetres from his right arm shattered into a thousand fragments from the force of Slytherin's retaliation spell whilst he ran, flat out, hoping desperately that the landscape would change – but of course it did not.

Harry turned sharply and flew behind a thick tree, panting hard and clutching his chest. He had no idea where Slytherin was; his only hope was that the famous founder had not seen which tree he now leaned against, clutching his wand.

A voice echoed from far away.

"Does this mean you are tired of the history lesson, Harry Potter?"

Harry said nothing. Clearly he could use any magic in this place, so that was certainly a relief … but he was fighting Salazar Slytherin … what could he possibly do?

"You're dead already, Potter … you can have no hope against me, or the Dark Lord."

The voice sounded as though it was coming slightly to the right of the tree. The locket was redundant now; all he had to do was kill Slytherin …

"You do not even seek to kill me … interesting …"

Harry's back and head still ached. Numerous spells ran through his head like a stream of conscious thought; he tried to think of the ones that had served him best against Voldemort and the Death Eaters, and yet they all seemed so unlikely against this relic.

"I have heard of your own legend, Potter," Slytherin continued. It sounded like his voice was much closer this time, yet Harry didn't know how he could have moved so quickly when Apparition was bound to be impossible in this place.

Harry edged slightly away from the voice, trying to figure out where it had come from. Perhaps he could deprive Slytherin of his wand; then he'd have the advantage – but then what?

A twig cracked like a gunshot from Harry's right. He swerved around the tree, ears listening out for any other noise. He was sure Slytherin was closer … Harry backed away, and felt a presence directly behind him.

He swung around and found himself, inevitably, face to face with the green clad wizard.

Harry opened his mouth, out of habit more than anything else, and tried to yell, "Expelliarmus!"

But Slytherin parried the jinx and reacted very quickly.

"Stupefy!"

"Protego!" Harry yelled, though he only just blocked Slytherin's spell; his adversary's wand flashed like lightening.

Harry backed away to give himself some space and to make whatever spells Slytherin used that he couldn't block less devastating.

Adrenaline took over; no conscious thought was involved now as Harry fired spell after spell at Slytherin, knowing he was about a microsecond from being vaporised. And yet, and yet, Slytherin had not yet shot the most Unblockable Curse of all …

"Impedimenta!" Harry yelled, shooting multi-coloured jet after jet at the oncoming wizard, who was now deflecting the spells with lazy flicks of his wand without uttering a word.

Slytherin shot a spell at Harry who tried to block it with the same Shield charm he had used on countless occasions, but found it much more difficult. He was forced to wield his wand with both hands, like a sword, and found it took a great deal of strength, both physical and mental, to thrown the curse off.

No sooner had he done this, Slytherin had hit him with something else. It came so fast that Harry had not time to think and was knocked off his feet. Back still aching, Harry found once again that all the breath was knocked out on him as he landed hard, once again looking up at the green tinted sky. He tried to scramble to his feet, but it was very difficult.

Slytherin was laughing.

"Good show, Potter … good show!"

This incensed Harry more than anything Slytherin had said so far about blood or anything else … he intended to play with Harry just as Voldemort had done, like a child … like a toy.

"I wonder, are you pondering why I have not killed you with a single blow?"

Harry gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet.

"No," he spat with venom and shot a spell consisting of red sparkling light at Slytherin. It was a spell of pure anger that Harry had only managed once before when he was facing Bellatrix Lestrange, and even then he had not meant to do it.

It hit Slytherin hard in the face and he yelled. For a moment, Harry thought that he had the better of him, but then he was hit with the Cruciatus Curse.

Having felt the white-hot, all consuming stabbing pain many times before did not lessen its effect by any means. Every part of him screamed as though it were on fire; he thrashed wildly, trying to escape it, to throw it off, but there was no possible release … he was going to die of this torture …

And then it was gone, as quickly as it had come. Harry lay in the pine needles, shaking uncontrollably as he came to his senses.

"I shall tell you anyway, even if you were not wondering," Slytherin said, standing in front of him, his voice thick with the sneer associated with his House.

As Harry stared up at his attacker, he saw there was a large red welt on Slytherin's forehead from Harry's most recent spell, rising into an angry wound. Slytherin appeared not to have noticed it.

"I was curious, Harry Potter … I have heard many things concerning you, oh yes … but you and I both know that hearsay is never reliable. I wished to see myself whether or not you could fight your way out of the number of tight corners I have been informed about."

There was a flash of blinding white light, and Harry felt the world turn upside down as he was lifted into the air. Every last remaining particle of strength in him fought it; he tried desperately to repel Slytherin with his brain, to not let him achieve these non-verbal spells, but it was so hard …

He felt himself falling … falling from a great height; the wind whipped through his hair and the blood rushed to his head. The next thing he knew, he had landed hard on his side, thwacking his head for the second time. Slytherin was laughing again.

"But I see now, Potter, that you are not as special as you have been built up to be!"

With an enormous effort, Harry staggered to his feet, away from Slytherin … he felt shattered, like somebody had been using his body as a tennis ball. Nevertheless, if it was going to end, it would not be on Slytherin's terms.

Maybe Ron and Hermione can do something, Harry thought desperately … maybe they can bring me back …

But he knew, in the back of his mind, that they would not be able to, and that, as he had always known, he was completely alone.

Harry turned, dazed, and tried to shoot a non-verbal attack at Slytherin, but his brain was so tired.

Slytherin seemed to know, before Harry had even thought of using the killing curse, that he would not be able to bring it off. Somehow, this was different from his fight with Bellatrix. Now, when it really mattered, he could not do it. And Slytherin knew.

"You cannot kill one who is already dead, Potter! That spell will NOT work on me! The Dark Lord knew to make me virtually invincible! And now, as the last of your protectors is gone – the great Albus Dumbledore – you have no hope of vanquishing me!"

Harry thought Levicorpus! as hard as he could, but only managed to think of half the spell before his brain gave up on him. He clung to a tree for support – and was thrown to the ground as it shattered when hit by the Reducto Curse; wood and pine flew everywhere.

"Now that I see, Potter, that you are nothing special, I will kill you, as I said I would. My legacy will not be in vain. When you are gone, this world will be at the mercy or those with the blood who deserve it."

God, this is it … Harry thought desperately. There was nothing he could do … he thought of Dumbledore's disappointment and how all the things he had been taught were now lost, gone to waste, pointless. He thought of Ron and Hermione and how they would perhaps never know … maybe it was better that way … but the thing that entered his mind, more strongly than anything else, was the Prophecy. So much for my power the Dark Lord knows not, Harry thought bitterly. He would never get the chance to face him … and it was this thought that filled him with a feeling he hadn't ever felt before. It was beyond anger, beyond strength – it was almost cathartic. Everything that Dumbledore had taught him came rushing back about the final battle and ridding the world of Voldemort.

"Got to? Of course you've got to!"

But not because he was marked. Because he'd never rest unless he did it.

"I'd want him finished … and I'd want to do it."

And he was sitting here, at somebody else's mercy? Not bloody likely, Harry thought savagely. If anybody was going to finish him like this, it would be Voldemort. Not Slytherin.

Harry stood up, at exactly the same time Slytherin cast his paralyzing curse to freeze Harry's body before he killed him. Harry knew what he had to do; his mind was oddly clear and somehow, he could see what Slytherin was going to use. With the words for the shield clearly formed in his mind, Harry waved his wand clearly and sharply. Slytherin's spell fell flat on its face. Harry could see the look on his opponent's face, even with his eyes closed with concentration.

Slytherin struck again, and again, Harry parried the curse. He did not know how he was doing it, only that the second time was a great deal harder than the first. It seemed like something he had to sustain; something he did not know how to keep up.

"NO, POTTER!" Slytherin yelled. "You cannot defeat me!"

Harry could not block the next spell; his mind was becoming hazy and less clear as Slytherin's spell penetrated his defences and Harry was flying fast through the air a long way, landing with a sickening crack on the remnants of shattered trees in the distance.

But as Harry staggered upright, away from the danger, something fell out of his pocket.

The Chocolate Frog card.

He could hear Slytherin shouting in rage behind him, boiling with anger that Harry had somehow deflected his most powerful spells. Harry threw himself behind a tree and held the card up to his face, hoping and praying that he would see the calmly lined old face, the half-moon glasses and the clear blue eyes staring back out at him.

"Harry!" the Dumbledore in the card hissed in a hurried whisper.

Harry's heart expanded to twice its usual size.

"Help me!" Harry gasped. "I can't stop him for much longer … he's too –"

"– Harry, listen to me! You cannot kill Salazar Slytherin, do you understand? He is already dead!"

The tree next to Harry was set ablaze as a large blue ball of fire hit it, having shot out of Slytherin's wand. He was getting closer.

"What can I do?" Harry said desperately.

"You have to Banish him!" came Dumbledore's urgent voice from out of the card. "Voldemort brought him back in a form that does not belong anywhere, not even in this place! You can send him back to death!"

"How do I do that?"

"The incantation is Expulsum. You have to point clearly and sharply and believe in your own place in this world, in this life. You are alive, Harry, he is not!"

"What if it doesn't work?" Harry panted. Slytherin was so much closer now … Harry could hear him running even in the soft pine. He only had seconds …

"It will … it has to work, because only you can do it? You see? Only you! Because he is Slytherin, and you are the h –"

Harry had been holding the card slightly out from behind the tree in order to get a better look at Dumbledore's face, and Slytherin had blown it clearly out of Harry's open hand. Harry withdrew his burning hand as a searing pain shot through it and the card lay smouldering metres away …

Slytherin darted forwards and fixed Harry with an enraged, piercing green glare.

"Accept your death, Potter!"

Slytherin drew back his wand, now close enough to touch.

"AVADA KE –"

"EXPULSUM!" Harry bellowed so loudly his voice cracked. He thought of nothing else except his whole and untarnished soul, his friends, his place in the world and his destiny to destroy Voldemort. Slytherin froze, mid-spell, his face full of rage.

All of a sudden there was a bang and Slytherin was engulfed in a red prism of light, binding him. Slowly his wand was prized from his long fingers and his expression changed from rage to fear.

"NO!" he screamed. "NO! I HAVE BEEN RESTORED! YOU CANNOT … you cannot …"

But he was growing fainter and fainter, struggling against the red light, against whatever was dragging him back into death, but he could not fight it. Harry watched as Slytherin, now grotesquely distorted, faded into the air in a red cloud. There was a high pitched scream of rage that Harry was fairly sure was not Slytherin's at all, and then he was gone.

Harry lay against one of the only intact trees left, and exhaled a breath he had been holding for what seemed like hours. He had done it – he had defeated the pale imitation of one of the greatest wizards of all time. He cupped his burnt hand to him and closed his eyes. Now to get back …

He turned and scanned the green landscape – surely the locket would take him back, but he could not see it. With the last of his remaining strength, Harry opened his mouth.

"Accio … Accio locket!"

For a moment, nothing happened. And then something came speeding towards him out of the emerald forest and landed with a soft thump at his feet. With an effort that seemed to drain him of all the left over energy he had, he bent down and put the chain around his neck, hoping against hope that he would be back amongst his friends –

"Harry!" came Hermione's anguished voice from the cave. He had once again been transported without realising it.

Harry did not even speak. Instead, he stumbled forwards against Hermione, who held him with surprising strength despite her surprise, and gasped as he passed out.

- - - - -

A/N: That took me absolutely ages to write. I sat down at my laptop one night at 7pm and did not stop until 11pm. Wow! I feel almost as bad as Harry! Anyway … what do you think? Please give me feedback people!

Can I just say – I love you guys. I had almost fifty reviews for that last chapter and it ABSOLUTELY made my day. You rock.

Just a Q to pose to you all – shall I continue with my italic snippets? They're a bit of a nuisance to come up with, but if you like them I'll keep them up. Let me know!

Next time – a little R/HR … the three potentials and … ooh, is that the hook-nosed tosser we love to hate?

Rosie X