Chapter 36
I Am a God
A cold breeze whipped across Godric's Hollow as Harry appeared out of nowhere, exactly in between the graves of his parents. As soon as he materialized, he dropped to his knees, wand thrust forward, ready to strike at any enemy lying in wait. Such caution proved to be unnecessary, as he found the hillock above his first home vacant. Quickly he scanned in a full circle around him with the illumination of a half moon rising on the horizon. Issamir noiselessly emerged from Harry's pocket, slid down his leg, and slithered towards the protection of a thicket.
Dobby had never been to Godric's Hollow, so he had to wait until Harry arrived before locating him in the peculiar manner of house elves. He appeared with a pop by Harry's side, but said nothing.
Harry softly instructed his slave, "Hide in the trees down there," pointing to his right, "Voldemort will probably try to hide a couple of his followers out of sight. They won't be expecting a house elf. Do whatever you have to do, but keep them away from me." Dobby nodded and disappeared.
Harry arrived more than half an hour early, mostly for tactical reasons, but also to have the opportunity to visit the graves of Dumbledore and his parents one more time. Once he satisfied himself that nobody had yet arrived, he gazed down on the three graves.
"I may be joining you soon, mum and dad, but not if I can help it." As he did on his birthday, he knelt down and placed one hand on each of his parent's graves, and again he felt a warmth rise up within him, not as strongly as on July 31st, but he could feel it nonetheless. His spirits rose as the warmth reached his heart.
He had no time to enjoy it, however, as Harry jumped at the crack of an apparation, not close by but in the distance. He knelt down even lower and gripped his wand tightly, ready for battle. Dobby would have heard that, he knew, for house elves have extremely sensitive ears; he would hear the next cracks too, for two more could be heard within fifteen seconds of the first, all in the trees and bushes below the hill on which Harry knelt. They could not see him from down below, he realized, so he remained in his crouch. Thinking quickly, Harry turned and disappeared and appeared in the same spot almost instantaneously, causing the characteristic crack. The death eaters would believe that he had just arrived (or so he hoped).
Rustling could be heard in the nearby bushes, but Harry could not divide his attention. Where would Voldemort appear? By the ruins of the house or by the graves? Wherever, Harry determined that the duel would take place right where he stood, in the presence of James Potter, Lily Potter and Albus Dumbledore. He waited.
The moon rose a few more feet into the sky, and Harry's eyes fully adjusted to the darkness. He heard a noise from the trees below, what sounded like a falling body. A few moments later he felt his scar tingle, and he knew. His guest had arrived. Harry pointed his wand and crouched between the graves. He stopped breathing and concentrated on his ears. There! The sound of a soft crack down by the ruins. Twisting to his left, he could not see anything for a moment, but then the wind ruffled the cape of Lord Voldemort, who also appeared to have located Harry. Footsteps could be heard as the dark lord shuffled up the hill where Harry crouched. The young wizard stood up, and pointed his wand towards the path. He heard more rustling in the bushes.
Minutes passed. Voldemort could not walk quickly in his damaged condition, and Harry could hear the pebbles crunching ever closer as the dark lord slowly shuffled up the nearly quarter mile path. At last he glimpsed the hooded face, and Harry barely suppressed a gasp. His enemy appeared more reptilian than ever, his thin face closer to that of a snake than a human, narrow red eyes and a nose consisting of little more than two slits. In the moonlight, his skin took on the color of chalk. When Voldemort's body appeared as he slowly completed the climb, Harry could see that the dark lord was not well. He hunched his shoulders and walked with a kind of limping shuffle. Too bad this could not be a fist fight, Harry thought, one punch and it would be over.
But Harry knew better. Voldemort was a genius, evil, but a genius nonetheless. Fear tried to enter Harry's mind, but he remained too occupied by the scene in front of him. At last, Lord Voldemort came to a halt, facing Harry some thirty yards away, the bitter breeze not appearing to bother him in the least.
Harry spoke first, not realizing that he hissed the words in Parseltongue, for the creature in front of him seemed more snake than wizard.
"Welcome to my home, Tom Riddle. You can avoid me no longer."
"You think quite highly of yourself, Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed back in the same language, "Tonight you will see a true wizard duel. I admit that you have surprised me. You have shown more spirit than I expected. But spirit will not serve you tonight. Do not believe that you can kill me, Harry, for I have achieved immortality. I cannot be killed."
"Tom, you have achieved nothing! Have you looked at yourself? You are pathetic, neither wizard nor serpent. You have become a monster." Harry hissed the word "monster" with special disdain.
Voldemort cringed at the word, but his facial expression did not change. In fact, his face could not express emotion any more than a snake's could. Harry read the body language just fine, however, and he knew that he had touched a nerve.
The snake-wizard hissed his response in the lowest, most threatening hiss Harry had ever heard, "I am much more than a monster. I am immortal. I am a god!" As he stretched out the final ssss of his statement, without warning he flicked his wand and a bolt of orange light sped towards Harry. The young man, however, had never let down his guard. Immediately he silently cast a shield charm while at the same time stepping to his right, on top of the grass of his father's grave. The spell, whatever it was, whizzed by Harry's left shoulder, deflecting off of his shield into oblivion.
Harry did not need to be told twice that the duel had begun, and he wordlessly cast two spells at his enemy, expelliarmus and stupefy. He did not expect either spell to succeed; nevertheless, he could not avoid feeling disappointed that Voldemort did not even bother to move his wand to erect a shield. The two spells approached him but melted away within feet of their target.
Voldemort laughed, half human and half reptile, at Harry's reaction.
"You have no idea what I can do, Harry Potter," he taunted his nemesis in English, though with such a hissing to it that it did not sound much different than Parseltongue. Harry quickly regained his composure and cast the reducto charm several feet in front of Voldemort, anticipating that whatever power the evil wizard had would not prevent this spell from reaching the ground. Once again, Harry observed the result with disappointment, as with a mere flick of the dark lord's wand, the curse veered to the side, pulverizing a tree below them a few seconds later.
Don't panic! Harry instructed himself, You knew he would be good. He remembered Dumbledore's words: Every wizard has a weakness. Despite his powers, Riddle has many weaknesses - especially arrogance and disdain for all things muggle. He had no time to ponder these words, however, as Voldemort casually cast the unforgivable Cruciatus curse at Harry, but from a distance that allowed Harry to dodge it easily. Voldemort did not seem surprised or upset, but he began to shuffle towards his foe to lessen the distance. Harry remained rooted to the grave site, deciding that he would rather die there than anywhere else.
Time for something more advanced, Harry thought quickly, and with two quick flicks of his wand, he sent a volley of steel darts into the air, covering from several feet on each side of the dark lord so that he could not easily dodge them. This time, Voldemort did need to raise his wand, but he casually redirected the darts away from him and continued his slow march forward. With the briefest of flicks, a huge serpent emerged from his wand and made its way towards Harry.
"How very Slytherin of you," Harry taunted in Parseltongue. When Draco Malfoy tried this spell on him years earlier, Harry spoke to the snake, but he could not risk the time and effort such an action would require, so he merely pointed his wand at the approaching serpent, lifted it into the air and threw it towards Voldemort. This did in fact surprise the dark lord who jerked awkwardly to one side, vanishing the flying reptile with another flick of his wand. He sneered.
But Harry had already attacked again with a spell taught to him by Professor Dumbledore. With three circular waves of his wand above his head, a sheet of ice flew out of his wand towards the opponent. If properly performed, the spell would temporarily immobilize the enemy allowing Harry to finish him off with another attack. Voldemort definitely displayed surprise this time, and wildly waved his wand in front of him, throwing an intense flame which immediately melted the ice.
At least I'm holding my own, Harry thought, though he realized that he had not made any real progress, and Voldemort came closer and closer. Harry needed something to distract his opponent in order to implement his plan, and he merely hoped to fend off the dark lord's attacks until an opportunity presented itself.. He vaguely heard more rustling in the bushes.
The two parseltongues glared at each other and with simultaneous flicks of their wands directed new curses at each other, only to see the bolts of light crash into each other and vanish, absorbed by the night darkness.
"So you have brought a new wand," Harry sneered, realizing that Voldemort no longer wielded the brother wand to Harry's, as he had when he regained his body in the graveyard so long before. "Wise decision," taunted the young wizard, "IMPERIO."
For the first time, Harry attempted the unforgivable curse. He had not planned it, but somehow he felt that he could control the dark lord if he could hit him with it. Despite his physical disabilities, Voldemort deftly slid to the side, now some forty feet from Harry, and the curse narrowly missed him. Hissing leaked from his lips, and in the briefest of moments, Voldemort again cast the cruciatus curse. Harry leapt to his right, but Voldemort had anticipated his enemy's movement. The young wizard realized that he would be hit, so he twisted his body in an attempt to avoid the spell, almost succeeding. The curse barely brushed against him, not enough to receive the full effect of the torture, but enough to knock the air out of him and throw him to the ground. His wand fell from his hands and caromed five feet away. Temporarily immobilized, his mind still functioned, attempting to instruct his body to move. He was a sitting duck. If he did not move soon, he would be a dead man.
Voldemort took a few more shuffles towards his nemesis, his shoulders thrown back in victory. The cold breeze whipped his black cape behind him, and the thinnest of smiles managed to form on his nearly immobile mouth.
"You have been a worthy opponent, Harry Potter. I will bury you here, next to your pathetic parents. You at least have proven more worthy than they, yet ultimately all of you will have died in vain. But I will delay no further. AVADA . . . "
The brief words of his enemy gave Harry a few moments to gather himself, but he had no chance to stand. With the first syllable of the killing curse, he rolled wildly towards his wand, reaching out his hand to summon it, but he knew it was useless. The movement surely could not be accomplished quickly enough to avoid the green bolt and certain death.
Remember me kindly, he thought, the faces of his friends appearing before him, I tried.
Yet when he finished his roll, he had not been killed, and a moment later his wand landed in his hand. Voldemort had not even finished the curse, and as Harry grasped his wand tightly, he looked up to see the dark lord in a tremendous struggle. At least a dozen snakes of various sizes and colors had somehow attacked Voldemort from behind, who must have been distracted both by his imminent victory over his greatest enemy and from the noise of his cape flapping in the wind. Mouth agape, Harry managed to push himself up to a knee, thoroughly astonished by what his eyes witnessed. Issamir could be seen around the dark lord's neck, as other serpents wrapped around arms and legs. Harry tried to push against the ground with his leaden legs, but the after-effects of the cruciatus curse still prevented him from standing.
Voldemort hissed in Parseltongue at the reptiles, "Get off of me! I command you!" The serpents did not obey.
A few of them hissed taunts at the dark lord, and Harry distinctly heard Issamir respond, "You may not command us. We are not your servants." Harry finally managed to stand shakily as the effects of the brush with the unforgivable curse and his hard landing on the gravel finally began to fade. The skin on one arm had been scraped raw, and he had a knot on his head, but he did not notice either injury. Voldemort's initial shock had worn off, and he managed to throw off several of the attackers, but they returned almost as soon as they touched the ground. The gnarled hand of the dark lord reached up to pull Issamir off of his neck, and the brave serpent sunk two fangs as deep as he could into Voldemort's forearm. Other snakes bit too, and the dark lord hissed in pain.
The opportunity that Harry needed had in fact presented itself, a moment in which Voldemort would be unable to erect his occlumency shield easily. But Harry's mind had not fully cleared, and he failed to act immediately, as he should have. Instead, he continued to watch the serpents attacking his enemy, hoping that they could harm Voldemort to the point that his job would become easier, or even unnecessary. Maybe some of snake bites contained deadly venom, he hoped.
Seeing Harry standing frozen before him, Voldemort threw a couple of serpents off of his right arm and surprising Harry, the dark lord managed to point his wand at the young man and again pronounced the killing curse, this time shouting it in its entirety: "AVADA KEDAVRA." Too late, Harry realized that he needed to move, but his legs and arms still seemed to weigh a ton each. He moved, but so slowly that the curse would most certainly reach its target.
But just as the dark lord finished the curse, a large black snake from around Voldemort's leg sprung upward with its large mouth wide open, jaws unhinged. Its aim proved true, as the open mouth covered the tip of the wand just as the green curse left it. The snake died immediately, its mouth closing involuntarily around the wand.
A snake I don't even know just sacrificed itself for me, Harry realized with astonishment. The remaining serpents became even more enraged, attacking and biting Voldemort with tremendous ferocity.
Harry's eyes glared menacingly at his enemy, his pain forgotten as the sacrifice of the unknown serpent cleared his mind. The moment had arrived. Voldemort was distracted, and a better opportunity would not present itself. Harry quickly turned and disappeared, softly casting the incantation, "Portus animagus," just as he did each time he possessed Issamir's body. Instinctively he knew that the spell would work on Voldemort too, and in less than a tick of clock, Harry inhabited the body of the dark lord.
Though no sound from him could be heard on the hillock, Harry screamed in excruciating pain as he felt as if one thousand knives were stabbing him. Voldemort's screaming could be heard aloud, though he could no longer produce a sound louder than a deep hissing. The two enemies both had to control their minds over the unbearable pain. The turn of events shocked the serpents, which quickly abandoned Voldemort's body and slithered a few yards away, turning to observe the incredible and inexplicable sight of the Snake Wizard shaking in pain.
Applying his experiences against the horcruxes, Harry searched for Voldemort's essence, his soul. Voldemort understood the attack and immediately countered, and the two souls entwined. Both combatants knew that one had to exert dominion over the other, and Harry knew the nature of his secret weapon: love. He tried to fill himself with the love he felt for his friends, but hard as he tried, he could not concentrate over the pain. Again and again he attempted, to no avail.
Voldemort's body shook uncontrollably due to the possession, yet he remained standing in the exact spot where the possession had occurred. A minute passed, then two, then five. Neither combatant made any progress, and Harry realized that Voldemort could not move on his own. For his part, Voldemort failed both in attempts to expel the intruder from his mind or to erect his mental block wall, as the excruciating pain prevented him from attaining that level of control.
The dark lord still gripped his wand, and suddenly Harry focused his mind on the hand holding it. Voldemort's right armed jerked, and immediately he tried to resist Harry's attempt to control his movements. Both men focused all of their magical power on that part of the body.
Harry felt a surge of confidence. He had done this before, mind to mind combat with Tom Riddle. In the graveyard when he resisted the imperious curse and when their brother wands connected. In the Ministry when Voldemort could not maintain possession of Harry's body. In defeating five horcruxes. In their more recent mental confrontations. Each time, Harry prevailed.
Something deep in the recesses of Harry's mind argued against this course of action. It's love. Concentrate on love. Maintain the possession a little longer.
Voldemort's hand suddenly turned so that his wand pointed directly towards his stomach, and slowly the wand inched towards his abdomen. Harry blocked out that dissenting voice in the back of him mind. Though Voldemort resisted with all of his might, the wand moved inexorably. When it reached within a foot of its target, the wand transfigured into a six inch blade, just as Harry's own wand when he slew the wolf in McNaughton Castle.
This had not been Harry's plan. He surmised that he could possess Voldemort's body and cause his enemy severe pain. Beyond that, the "plan" consisted mostly of conjecture and hope. Hope that Harry possessed the strength to make the possession stick. Hope that Harry could drown Voldemort's spirit with "the power he knows not," love, which hopefully would succeed in destroying Tom Riddle's soul once and for all. Instinctively it made sense to the young wizard, but when he thought it through rationally, he never could completely convince himself. Ultimately he decided to trust his instincts.
Never had Harry considered stabbing Voldemort with his own wand, yet he now concentrated all of his powers into forcing the transfigured wand closer and closer to Tom Riddle's midsection. What would happen when the knife entered the body? Would Harry feel the pain? Would Harry be able to survive? Would he die with Voldemort? Could he escape? The knife arrived within three inches of its target before the dark lord's desperation halted its progress.
The serpents backed away another few feet as they watched the incredible sight of the Snake Wizard apparently trying to stab himself with his own wand. A wispy cloud partially covered the moon, reducing visibility to nearly zero.
Harry could not contemplate whether this course of action made sense. The piercing pain of the possession of his enemy prevented any rational thought, but the pain did not prevent him from concentrating on moving that knife a few more inches. Neither Voldemort nor Harry communicated with each other, for each had been forced to exert themselves beyond the capacity to carry on a conversation. No chit chat in this battle. Only one thing mattered to Harry at that moment. The knife had to move three more inches.
Voldemort's desperation slowly fell to the superior power of the younger, fitter wizard. The dark lord's transformations over the decades, the multiple splitting of his soul, his banishment to and return from oblivion, and the experiments he had conducted on his own body weakened him more than he ever admitted. Perhaps he retained enough power to deal with a normal wizard, but not for his current opponent. He trusted that his superior knowledge and skill as a wizard would provide the edge he needed to defeat the boy, but he knew that he needed to avoid a direct confrontation of magical power at all costs. The boy had thrown off his imperious curse, had prevailed when their brother wands met. Tom Riddle never considered that the boy knew how to possess him. His worst fears had come to pass; he had no option now but to pit his power against the boy's.
Beneath the pain, Harry sensed victory. Perhaps this would be the end of the ordeal that his life had become. With the final defeat of his rival, he could become a normal person for the first time; live a normal life, allow his friends to live in peace. On the other hand, if this action resulted in his own death, so be it. One way or the other, he would need fight no longer. With a final burst of magical power, he overcame Tom Riddle's desperate resistance, and the blade jumped the final three inches, breaking the snake wizard's scaly skin, and diving full length into his stomach.
The moment the knife stuck, the pain to both participants increased exponentially, and Harry could no longer maintain possession of his enemy's body. The young wizard left Voldemort and for a second hovered above the dark lord, who had doubled over in reaction to the stabbing. The release of the body reduced his pain, and Harry picked a spot immediately behind his enemy to reappear. A crack could be heard throughout the valley as Harry Potter's body materialized two feet from Lord Voldemort's back.
Tom Riddle automatically removed the knife from his stomach, and it reverted to its natural form as a wand. He held the wand loosely in his right hand, but momentarily could not summon the strength to cast a spell. Harry gasped for air for a moment, and quickly took inventory. Most importantly, he confirmed that he had not died, though his body had been numbed by the pain. Without thinking, he reached forward and knocked the wand out of his rival's hand, who now stood doubled over, helpless.
Harry briefly considered that same voice in the back of his mind urging him to possess the dark lord anew to try to finish him off with the power of love, but he could not bear that pain again. Moreover, the sight of the man who had made his life a living hell did not fill him with love. His hatred for the evil wizard surged within him, and he thrust his hand into the pocket of his robe and removed the same knife with which he had slain Nagini, and before the dark lord could move, Harry grabbed the back of his cape, pulling him upwards while at the same thrusting the foot-long blade into his back. Immediately he pulled the blade out and thrust it in again, a few inches to the left of the first wound. Harry pushed the knife in deeper and twisted it, ripping through nerves and blood vessels, yet only a muted hiss escaped the injured wizard's lips.
Pulling the knife out again, Harry saw a dark greenish substance oozing from the blade and the wounds. His eyes shone with hatred, and with his left hand, Harry grabbed Voldemort's shoulder and jerked on it, turning the gasping wizard around.
"You cannot kill me, Harry Potter." Voldemort whispered, "This body may die, but I will live on. I am immortal."
The snakes approached the two wizards, and Issamir hissed at Harry, "You must finish the job, Harry Potter. You must complete your destiny."
Without further delay, Harry thrust the dripping blade into Tom Riddle's stomach, again causing him to double over in pain, not falling down only because Harry's arm, still connected to the knife, held him up.
"The horcruxes are destroyed, Tom," Harry grunted through gritted teeth, "All of them. Tonight, Tom Riddle will live no more."
With one final twist of the blade, Tom Riddle fell to the gravel, mere feet from the grave of Albus Dumbledore, an irony neither man would know. The great Lord Voldemort now curled on the ground in pain, barely breathing in his last breaths. Breathing heavily, Harry turned him onto his back with his foot and looked down. Issamir slithered up Harry's leg and body and wrapped itself comfortably around his neck.
"You have prevailed, Harry Potter. The serpent world will remember you always. Your name will be revered for generations," the serpent hissed. But Harry barely heard what his serpent friend said, instead focused on the fallen dark lord, the victim of a muggle death. He should have felt exultation at his victory, but deep inside of him, he knew something was wrong.
"Remember your muggle roots," Dumbledore had written to him six months earlier, and in fact a fancy spell did not kill the dark lord, nor an unforgivable curse. Nevertheless, an unsettled sensation emerged in Harry's stomach.
"You were born a muggle and you will die a muggle, Tom," Harry spoke softly, as Voldemort struggled with his last breaths. A moment later, Dobby appeared, walking towards his master while levitating three unconscious death eaters beside him. Harry briefly smiled at his friend, "You did well, Dobby. You always do."
Dobby had not known exactly what was happening on the hill above him, but he resisted the temptation to abandon his duty to help his master. Somehow he knew that Harry would prevail, and so he remained below, picking off each of the three death eaters serving as Voldemort's backup in case of problems.
"See that Tom?" Harry asked with pride, "One house elf took out three of your death eaters. What does that tell you?"
Tom Riddle could not answer. He had lapsed into unconsciousness. In a moment he would die, Harry knew. What would happen next? A feeling of dread continued to spread throughout Harry's body.
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Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley sat uncomfortably in the large master bedroom of Grimmauld Place, Harry's room. Even though it was New Year's Eve, everyone in the house retired to their beds at the normal time. With nothing to celebrate, they saw no reason to see in the New Year. Hermione took Ron aside and quietly told him to remain dressed and to come to Harry's room in an hour. When he arrived, she filled him in. Now they sat and waited nervously, saying nothing.
From time to time, Hermione could not repress the thought that Harry could be dead even as they sat there completely helpless. Tears formed in her eyes more than once, but she wiped them away before they could escape. Unavoidably, she thought of their kiss just a short time before in this very room, adding confusion to her overwhelming mix of emotions. Would that be her final contact with Harry Potter?
How would they know what had happened? She had no idea where Harry went, no way to find him. Would everything they had accomplished be for naught? Had it all been a waste of time? Would she ever see Harry Potter alive again? They sat.
Ron saw the worry etched on Hermione's face, but he could not think of any words of comfort. He tried to convince himself that Harry would prevail. Harry had become immensely powerful; this was his destiny. Good always prevails over evil, does it not? In the back of his mind he knew the answer: Sometimes it does not. Sometimes evil wins. He closed his eyes.
Moments later a tell-tale pop announced the arrival of Dobby. Hermione and Ron jumped off of their chairs as the house elf appeared.
"Dobby! What's happened?" the two spoke in unison.
"You must come! Harry Potter needs your help. Dobby does not know what is happening to Harry Potter." The elf hopped uncontrollably, unable to communicate further. Ron grabbed him by his shoulders and pinned his feet to the floor.
"Dobby, is Harry alive?"
"Yes. Harry Potter is alive. Harry Potter kills the dark lord. But something is wrong. Something bad is happening. Harry Potter call for his Granger friend and his Weasel friend."
"Where is he?" Hermione asked with urgency.
"Harry Potter is by the graves of his parents."
"Godric's Hollow!" Hermione exclaimed, "Of course, that's where he would want to do it. We've got to get there right away. Can you take us, Dobby?"
"No. House elf is not able to take wizard. Wizard will die."
"We've never been there," Ron cried, "We can't apparate there by ourselves."
"Your mum and dad have been there, haven't they?" Hermione asked hopefully.
"Probably. Let's go." And with that the witch, wizard and elf bolted out of Harry's room and down the halls to the bedroom of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
"Mum. Dad. Wake up! You've got to take us to Godric's Hollow. NOW!"
Ron's parents had been sound asleep, but in a second they sat up wide awake, the urgency in their youngest son's voice acting like a bucket of ice water.
"Godric's Hollow?" Arthur asked.
"Harry is there," Hermione half yelled, beside herself at the time being wasting, "He needs our help, but we've never been there. You need to side-along apparate us there. Right away." Molly and Arthur wrapped robes over their night clothes and then grabbed their wands and heavy capes.
"We'll have to go outside to apparate," Arthur ordered, not doubting the urgency of the situation, but before he could say more, Hermione cut him off.
"No. We can go from here. Harry removed the anti-apparation wards before he left. Let's go!"
Arthur grabbed Hermione's shoulder and Molly did the same with Ron. The door to the room burst open just as they disappeared. Ginny ran in, having heard the yells from her parents' room. She arrived too late, but she had heard the words "Godric's Hollow."
She ran back out of the room yelling, "FRED! GEORGE!"
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Remus Lupin had departed the home of his old friend, Sirius Black, shortly after dinner, preferring to be alone as the new year arrived. The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix included small private living quarters both for Remus and for Kingsley Shacklebolt, though frankly they spent little time there beyond catching a few hours of sleep here and there. But on New Year's Eve, the werewolf decided that he deserved a few hours to himself. As much as he could, he relaxed.
A book sat crookedly on his lap, as his head rested awkwardly on the back of the small sofa in his tiny sitting room, eyes closed. Thus he nearly suffered a heart attack when Fred, George and Ginny Weasley burst into his room yelling at him.
"Wait a minute," he shouted with his hands in the air, "What has happened?"
"It's Harry," George replied as calmly as he could, "He's at Godric's Hollow, and something is wrong. We don't know how to get there. You have to take Ginny. We think she needs to be there."
But Remus had already stopped listening. He grabbed his wand and cape and ran out of the room, his heart pounding in his chest. The others raced after him across the open ranch land surrounding the headquarters until he had crossed the edge of the antiapparation zone.
"Come on," he almost growled at Ginny who had not been able to keep up with the pace of the werewolf. When she arrived a few moments later, Remus roughly stopped her, placed his hand on her shoulder, and the two disappeared. Fred and George stopped to catch their breaths, nodded that their job had been completed, and disappeared as well.
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Several minutes before these events, Tom Riddle's body shook as his internal organs shut down one by one. Peering down at the reptilian wizard, Harry could see that air now barely entered his lungs. The Boy Who Lived had survived again, this time because of the intervention of Issamir in gathering an attack force of serpents, including one unknown snake which sacrificed itself for Harry.
Harry quietly hissed at Issamir which peered down from around Harry's neck at the dying snake wizard below, "Who was the serpent that stopped the killing curse? He saved my life."
"She saved your life, Harry Potter. Her name was Hashashis, the grandmother of many of the serpents which attacked the snake wizard. She was greatly loved and revered by all of my kind in this area. It was she who agreed to come when I requested assistance. When she agreed, all of the others followed." The attacking snakes now surrounded Harry and the fallen Voldemort from a distance.
Harry could barely see them in the dark, but he straightened his back and hissed as loudly as he could, "May we all honor the memory of Hashashis, for without her the snake wizard would have prevailed. May she be remembered always." He heard hisses of agreement.
Turning back to Tom Riddle, Harry could see that it was almost over. Somehow, the process of dying lessened the reptilian visage of the dark lord, and though much disfigured, Harry could now recognize the face of Tom Riddle that he had seen in Dumbledore's pensieve.
"You could have been great, Tom. You could have been another Dumbledore."
With those words, the body of Tom Riddle convulsed softly one last time, and the air slowly escaped from his lungs. His head fell limply to the side. Harry, Dobby, Issamir and all of the on-looking serpents remained motionless. The fallen wizard's body shook again, barely perceptibly, and a greenish vapor escaped from his midsection. The vapor at first seemed to disperse, almost becoming invisible, but it reformed rapidly, as if it somehow knew where to go. A moment later, the vapor shot towards Harry Potter, who jumped to the side and cast a shield with his wand. The vapor passed through the shield as if it did not exist and entered Harry's midsection as if magnetically attracted. The battle had not been completed.
"Great! Just Great!" Harry thought to himself as the remnants of Tom Riddle passed through his clothing and into his gut. Instinctively he recognized his failure. Instead of renewing the possession to finish Voldemort off with the power of love, Harry allowed hatred to overwhelm him. He braced himself for anything, but at first he noticed nothing. Harry looked down at the corpse for a moment, but with no sense of triumph.
"Harry Potter, what is happening?" a confused Dobby squeaked, "What was that green steam."
"It's what was left of Lord Voldemort," Harry answered in a nervous voice, "he has entered my body, because there is nowhere else that he can survive." For months this fear haunted the Boy Who Lived; somehow he knew that with all of the horcruxes destroyed, Harry himself carried the only portion of Voldemort's soul remaining. The wizard and elf stood frozen in place, waiting.
Having destroyed five of them, Harry knew all about horcruxes, and this was no horcrux. After several seconds, he finally felt something inside of him, a tingling numbness at first which intensified over the next half a minute.
"How can I attack it?" Harry asked himself, but he had no answer. He could find nothing to attack; he could not locate it or even describe it, but it was there. Fear crept into his mind. Would he be able to kill the invader? Would he have to live with part of Voldemort inside of him for the rest of his life? Could he? Did he want to?
His final question was answered promptly, as suddenly nausea overcome him, and he fell to his knees, vomiting on the grass a few feet away from his fallen enemy. But instead of feeling better after heaving out the contents of his stomach, he felt even worse, and in a few moments, he vomited the last contents of his stomach.
"This is not good," he told himself in the understatement of the century.
"What is wrong, Harry Potter?" Dobby cried, "What should Dobby do?"
Harry recovered enough to instruct the house elf, "Go back to my room. Tell Ron and Hermione to come. I need help." Dobby did not need to be told twice, and in a moment he vanished.