Here we are, the finale of Charlotte Potter - the Hell of Fourth Year. I wanted to finish this in time for Christmas Day as a true Christmas present for everyone who's enjoyed this story.

Please, enjoy, let me know what you think.

Stay Safe.

Happy Christmas.


The Hell of Fourth Year.

If anyone was able to see through the muggle-repelling wards surrounding the graveyard, they would have been shocked, awed, and terrified by the sheer magical power being demonstrated before their eyes. While, thanks to the mirror, the entire magical community around the world were indeed watching the spectacle and unable to even avert their eyes watching as Charlotte Potter launched herself into her form, and began engaging Lord Voldemort into a terrifying magical battle, many of them were praying for her success - especially those in Britain, and in Europe. They knew how insane Voldemort was; while the Dark Lord had been a terrifying foe, his reputation had spread as his predecessor's hand.

But while the Ministries in European countries knew there would be dozens of recruits who would have joined Voldemort's armies with no hesitation whatsoever, they knew there would be dozens who wouldn't have given Voldemort the time of day. Voldemort was nothing like his intelligent predecessor. He was seen as a rabid animal. Powerful, yes, but Voldemort's insanity was there for all to see and as they watched the battle unfolding between Lord Voldemort and Charlotte Potter, many of those European countries were making plans to ensure a Dark Lord like Voldemort never rose again.

Britain was too much of a joke when it came to prevention.

The most terrifying thing about the battle was Charlotte wasn't going about the whole thing like a Gryffindor. Voldemort knew how to handle a Gryffindor, considering the many he had killed or maimed over the decades.

They always followed the same tired, never-ending, too predictable pattern which made them so boring, although the only thing that changed about them was their magical prowess; they would come for him, firing one curse after another, although many of them would just use the same spells over and over again, which was a sure sign of how badly standards at Hogwarts had fallen thanks to the tutelage of Albus Dumbledore.

Granted, he had learnt never to underestimate a Gryffindor. Lily and James Potter were testaments to that, even if he still had questions about why Lily and James had….seemed different from their previous confrontations. At the time of their 'deaths', Voldemort hadn't really paid any attention to their differences, although he had noted it, in the past, Voldemort had always been impressed with their knowledge, their power and their prowess as duelists even if James Potter had behaved like the typically arrogant stereotype of a Gryffindor he had despised during his time at school.

Lily was much like her daughter.

Like Charlotte, Lily had been smarter. She had been a vicious fighter, with an impressive repertoire of spells which constantly changed, showing she was always forever bettering herself, unlike her Gryffindor classmates who wouldn't pick up a book to save their own necks.

But overall, Gryffindors were predictable and followed a pattern.

They were even easier to defeat them since Dumbledore had made sure the only spells used during the war when he had sent half-trained adults who were barely out of their teens to face him, and were too stupid to realise they were no match for him, but bursting with pride they'd been trained by the Albus Dumbledore, but they kept using stunning or petrification spells as if they were the only curses in existence.

Was Charlotte Potter anything like them?

No.

She was fighting more like a Ravenclaw, displaying not only knowledge of the truth of duelling, but she was also showing sense in ensuring she didn't tire herself out.

Or a Slytherin. Charlotte had always demonstrated a degree of cunning, coming up with plans and strategies, manipulating the events around her until they fitted in with what she wanted. In this case, she was merely wishing to keep three to five steps ahead of the curse, but she was aiming high as a true Slytherin would.

Like himself.

She wasn't throwing curses and spells at him aimlessly. No, she was more careful than that; she was using spells and curses only those truly invested in expanding their spell repertoire, and becoming interested in magical duelling, or had a good idea of the types of spells witches and wizards of old trained with while she made sure she didn't tire herself out would use, rather than the more high powered ones. Truly it was very rare for him to meet an opponent like this, when they were gone he always missed them dreadfully. The only one who was still alive was Dumbledore, but it seemed he had been replaced.

And it was glorious.

Well, to a point. Charlotte Potter was giving him a lot of grief, and while she was young and hardly experienced with using magic, she made up for it by dodging acrobatically before throwing herself into the fray again.

Voldemort grimaced to himself while he flicked his wand - he hadn't intended to go for a truly taxing magical battle, especially so soon after his restoration; he had planned to rest in order to regain his full strength and then engage on an intensive session to discover just how badly his skills had eroded over the years - in order to defend himself against the Potter girl, and he had to admit to himself he was impressed despite himself.

While he still wished he had succeeded in killing the girl as a child and failed, a further sign of Dumbledore's desperation over his past mistakes - if the old wizard had wished to prevent him becoming a Dark Lord, he could and should have done something constructive, but that was the way of Dumbledore - Voldemort was grateful for the chance of fighting in a duel again. Especially against someone who had proven in the past to be a worthwhile opponent. Someone who was, ironically enough, a lot like him. He remembered how, when he was possessing Quirrell during Charlotte's first year, he had peered into her mind.

Oh the things she had done, the things she had seen….

Who would have imagined he and Charlotte Potter had so much in common? Like him, she had suffered at the hands of muggles, although she'd suffered from two different sets. And she had wiped them all out…. But until that moment, Voldemort had believed when he returned to power he would be capable of defeating the little bitch.

Voldemort was a capable duelist. Like Potter, it seemed, he had learnt there were two types of magical duelling; the first where you just fired one powerful curse after another, while you foolishly burned energy until you were tired dodging from side to side…and the second where you concentrated, gathering your power, your energy. You used simple curses, mixing the defence strategy up with household spells and through the use of transfiguration and charms.

Sometimes you could settle into a holding pattern, waiting for the other to tire themselves out, and then you would be ready for the kill.

But Charlotte wasn't flagging at all, she was continuing to throw out curses and hexes, and charms and transfiguration spells which reminded Voldemort of his own fighting style, and how he liked to not only overwhelm his opponents but force them to deal with unexpected diversions…. And because of that, Voldemort had needed to use all of his patience to deal with how one of his own tactics was being thrown into his face.

The fact she had two wands rather than one didn't help. Voldemort watched as she utilised the two wands expertly, she was able to throw out different spells with one wand, without the same spells blasting out of the other. It was clear to him she had gained proficiency in the mind arts to wield them so well.

And there was something else.

It was becoming increasingly clear to him he had underestimated Potter. When he had first met her before he had peered into her mind over the course of the year, Voldemort had believed the girl was going to become the perfect little tool for Dumbledore to use and then discard without a care in the world. And tonight, despite what he knew had happened over the course of the year, everything he'd witnessed, he had still pictured her as a quintessential Gryffindor, all brawn and no brains.

But no longer. No, Dumbledore would never have taught the girl anything like this. Somehow she had learnt these skills by herself, showing Charlotte, sweet little Charlotte, had an independent streak much like his own. No matter, he would still defeat her. It was a pity; in another reality, he might have seduced her to his side. She would have been unstoppable, a younger Bellatrix… Ah, the irony! Yes, it was a pity. Charlotte blocked several of his next strikes beautifully with just one hand while she used her second wand to fire more spells he needed to block. As he watched her fight, Voldemort found himself wishing he had gotten a pair of wands. He would have been virtually undefeated in battle.

"You would certainly give Bellatrix a run for her money, Potter," Voldemort commented, voicing his thoughts in the hopes of distracting her long enough to kill her.

"Thanks, but I'm sure how to feel about you comparing me to your hench bitch," Charlotte replied, her voice clipped, showing she was more focused on their battle.

"I doubt you would last long if you said that to her face, Potter," Voldemort said amused.

"Am I supposed to care?" Charlotte sneered.

"No, not really," Voldemort sent a killing curse her way. The curse was fired so close to Potter, she needed to dodge by dropping to the ground. She looked up and glowered at him angrily even through those glasses.

"Good," she ground out before she got back into the fight.

Voldemort fired a number of high powered curses, hoping he wasn't overtaxing himself. He watched as Charlotte, with a flick off her double wands, conjured up a large brick wall to take the impacts which shattered the wall to pieces. But Charlotte was already coming for him. With a roar which sounded almost like a jungle cat, she had vaulted over the wall, wands at the ready, snarling at him.

Taken by surprise, and curious of Potter's aggression, Voldemort raised his own wand in preparation, but he hadn't expected this sort of move from Potter, and very quickly she was beating him back, and he heard her hissing spells and curses, and he realised Potter was using parseltongue. Spells using the language of the snakes - revered in Ireland, and several Asian countries, heralded in Greece and India for the healing qualities, and yet in the war, it was one of the deadliest forms of magic in existence, impossible to use by non-speakers. He didn't know Potter could speak it, so how had she found a way?

In the meantime, Voldemort was incensed; as the heir of Slytherin, he had made it his life's goal to gather all the knowledge of parselmagic for his own use, and he had diversified his repertoire with that form of magic, and because of it he had become a dangerous fighter. But how had Potter learnt of the magic, and how had she become good at it without anyone to teach her?

Voldemort adjusted his stance, daring Potter to attack him again. They both met in a clash of spells. Hard, unmerciful spells crashed against each other's barriers, although Potter was mostly focusing on conjuring up defences to absorb many of the spells Voldemort threw at her, large metal barriers she blasted towards him, sending jagged and wickedly sharp pieces of metal and glass towards him, which forced Voldemort to either transfigure them into harmless objects or to just banish them completely before he launched a flaming whip curse, and launched it towards Potter.

Voldemort looked at her in anticipation as the deadly spell looped around Charlotte's body, expecting to hear the sweet sounds of the little whore screaming in pain as the fire whip seared her flesh. But the girl didn't scream, instead, she looked focused at the fire looped around her body. To Voldemort's surprise and horror, the fire whip transformed into a large, black hydra.

"There's another snake in this graveyard," Charlotte said in parseltongue, but Voldemort understood exactly what the witch was saying. "She and the man over there," she gestured to Voldemort, "will enslave you and make you do their bidding. Kill the other snake, and I shall set you free."

The hydra uncoiled its body around Charlotte, and it went off to find Nagini, but Voldemort flicked his wand at it and the multi-headed snake vanished. As the snake vanished, he looked into Charlotte's sunglass covered eyes and saw the expression on her face was unhappy, but he did not care.

"Impressive, Potter," he said with genuine respect towards the young witch before he fired a killing curse at her…

XXX

Oooh, some days, people really try my patience! I should have just murdered Voldemort instead of letting that little weakling stun me! If I had, I would never have gotten involved in this fucking waste of time! Charlotte cursed angrily as she dodged to the side to avoid getting hit by the killing curse. Again. She didn't pay any attention to where the curse went while she dodged; she didn't care if it shattered one of the nearby gravestones or not. She was too involved in the battle between herself and the bastard who was now laughing his head off to a joke only he knew the punchline to. Scowling, she locked eye to eyes with the Dark Lord, working out how she could defeat Voldemort this time around, and she had to admit the Dark Lord was pretty spry for someone who'd spent the last decade wandering the world as a wraith and had just been returned to his body.

She quickly went through her mind the kind of spells Voldemort would never expect her to use, but the unforgivable curses were at the top of the list. At the same time, she didn't want to overtax herself against the dark wizard. That was the last thing she wanted as she was so close now to ending the life of the thing who'd murdered her parents…

He had murdered them, right?

Charlotte had pushed that thought and the implications behind it to the very back of her mind as she'd gotten into the fight between herself and Voldemort, so it wouldn't distract her and she hadn't bothered to ask the Dark Lord to be more specific about the story as it would waste their time and energy. In any case, she didn't see Voldemort as the type to not take advantage of distractions in a fight like this, hence the reason why she hadn't said a word to him. She took a deep breath, thanking her lucky stars the Founders ghosts had taught her techniques for duelling which ensured she could hold out for a long time, but it helped she was physically fitter than other witches and wizards, who didn't care about their bodies.

Charlotte leapt to her feet, her wands a blur of motion and magical spellfire, sending acid curses and blasting curses towards Voldemort before adding some of the more high-powered and increasingly vicious spells in her arsenal although she kept a few of the custom-designed curses she had developed back since she wanted to use them for later, adding a few transfigurations spells to the mix which transformed several of the nearby gravestones to mirrors or turned them into brick walls or tall sheets of thick metal covered with nails, and other pieces of jutting jagged sharp metal. As Voldemort focused his concentration on the duel, the explosive curses she had prefixed to the back of walls and sheets exploded, startling Voldemort as he hadn't been aware of their existence until that moment, but the sharp pieces of metal and the chunks of bricks went straight into his body.

A loud, high-pitched shriek of rage and pain came from Voldemort's mouth as the metal slashed his body to ribbons, but thanks to the necromantic ritual he'd used to reconstruct his body, he was still standing albeit in a more weakened state. Voldemort desperately waved his wand to remove the pieces of brick and metal from his flesh, and as he pulled the rusting metal loose, his injuries slowly began to repair themselves.

He straightened his back as much as he could, feeling residual pain but he channelled that into anger he could use to continue to fight, but as he lifted his gaze, Charlotte fired off a killing curse in his direction. Voldemort gaped in disbelief, he hadn't expected the girl to use such a spell, especially not the one used on her so long ago. Clearly, she wasn't what he'd thought.

Voldemort quickly channelled his magic throughout his body, and he took flight. This was one of the most complex forms of magic he knew, magical flight without the use of a broomstick, and he was going to enjoy using it to gain an edge over Charlotte Potter once and for all.

"You cannot and won't defeat me, not this time, Potter!" He called, laughing as he stayed aloft. "I am going to kill you. After your death, nobody will ever again doubt my power. After your death, there will be no more hope for the Light. As soon as they realise you are dead, I will only have Albus Dumbledore to deal with -!"

Charlotte had had enough of the monologue when it was only a quarter of the way through. Whipping her wands up, Charlotte fired her own version of the killing curse. Voldemort screeched in agony as the magic of the curse seared through his body, exploding cells as the magic washed over them, his body glowing blue in flashes before Charlotte fired a pair of her fire disintegration spells.

Voldemort gurgled as one of the spells went right into his mouth, and the heat of it burnt the inside of his mouth, searing off the flesh of his tongue until he could taste nothing but hot ash before he could taste nothing anymore, and it spread to his skull and to the rest of his body, while the second impacted right in the centre of his chest. The burning pain spreading through his body made Voldemort lose control, and he fell to the ground, urgently shunting his magic to combat the burning which was incinerating his body from the inside out and the outside in.

Charlotte watched dispassionately as her worst enemy fell to the ground, and she looked down at the burning and thrashing body. Voldemort's biggest problem, she reflected as she made to head to the bastard, and finally kill the cunt once and for all, was he just talked, talked, talked, talked, and talked. He never fucking got on with it. How many times had they met, and he just talked? Even his younger self talked. Was Voldemort really just determined to boast how much of an evil arsehole he was, was that why he just talked?

Arrogant. Condescending. Short-sighted, and he talked. Oh, and he was very powerful as well except he didn't seem to get on with it. Not a good combination in a Dark Lord.

She was only halfway towards Voldemort when a large, sleek shadow shot out of the dark shadows of the graveyard, hissing at her with terrifying rage. Charlotte scuttled back as quickly as she could, relying on delving deep into her animagus form to give her the boost in speed and agility to get away from the enlarged snake hissing at her - she wondered absently how the snake got so large, how it was able to move so quickly in the British climate… and how the hell Voldemort got hold of the fucking thing in the first place - and she backflipped backwards, seeing a gravestone right behind her.

She balanced awkwardly on the top of the rickety old stone, watching as the snake came closer towards her, hissing all the way; now she wasn't concentrating on getting clear of the snake, Charlotte was now paying attention to the snake.

"You will pay for what you did for my master!" The snake spat, incensed as she came closer.

Charlotte narrowed her single eye under her sunglasses while she tried to look past the snake to see what was happening with Voldemort. She didn't know what ritual he had used to come back, but he likely had the means of rapid healing otherwise there'd be no point of creating it. Thinking about the possible healing factor made her frustrated. She didn't have time for this. She had wanted to kill Voldemort for a while just to get him and Dumbledore off of her back and out of her life for good, and yet there was this giant serpent who was coming for her.

Charlotte pointed the wand clasped in her left hand towards the snake. "Avada Kedavra!"

The green light of the killing curse and the rushing sound signifying its use burst out of her wand, startling the snake, who had clearly not realised she would ever use something like that. The snake tried to get out of the way, but Charlotte was way ahead of the serpent. Not only was the snake too close, but she also conjured large metal barriers which formed a box around her which made moving out of the way virtually impossible. The curse hit the snake right in the chest, and the sound of a scream in Voldemort's voice and black mist rising made Charlotte gaze at the snake in shock.

The snake…. The snake had been a Horcrux?!

She closed her eye, cursing herself over the wasted opportunity. She could have gone after the snake had she known about the Horcrux inside her instead of wasting her time with Voldemort. But she couldn't have known. She recognised that. It wasn't as if she could have gone up to Voldemort and asked him straight, "Hey Riddle, do you have any of your fucked up Horcruxes nearby? I'm only asking 'cause I want to kill you. Thanks anyway if you don't say a word."

She let out a huffing breath. She was tired. For a whole year (it was hard for her to believe it had just been a whole year, after everything she'd endured on top of the summer she'd had, stealing the Mona Lisa and selling off those copies on top of everything else for a big profit), she'd been lurching from one mess after another, from one battle to the next in the tasks. And now this. She had hoped to get close enough to Voldemort, but instead of dealing with the Dark Lord straight away, she'd fallen in the same pit he had.

She had wanted to fight the bastard head-on, to make him pay for everything he had done to her and to so many others. Instead, she had dragged things out, she had tried to get close but Voldemort was simply just too good. And she'd had enough. Well, no more.

Charlotte opened her eye and she walked towards Voldemort. She found the Dark Lord was no longer on the ground, but he looked like a burnt mass as he tried to stand. The Dark Lord was glaring at her with pain-filled red eyes, but she saw other emotions mixed in there but somehow, Charlotte found it hard to care. Voldemort stood at his full height, the light in the graveyard showing the state of his body. His robes were in burned tatters, and hanging off of his body. His skin was a blackened mess, especially around his skull. She could barely see the state of his mouth, but from what she could see, Voldemort's body was trying to heal itself.

"You….killed….my….familiar," Voldemort gasped out, his voice raspier than before as he tried to speak around the damage to his mouth while he clenched his wand; she was surprised it had survived. "With….the Killing….Curse…. No less."

"I did," Charlotte shrugged indifferently.

"Hard….Hardly the work…..of a hero!"

Charlotte's expression hardened, inwardly wishing Voldemort would just get on with it. "I'm no hero."

"I….will….kill….you….for…this!" With that Voldemort held up his wand, and Charlotte needed to dodge out of the way of the spells coming towards her, backflipping and dodging out of the way, and he heard her scream or cry out which only made him fire more overpowered killing curses and other nasty spells in his repertoire, and he knew thousands….before he half-collapsed to the ground, exhausted. The previous round with Charlotte had tested his new body's limits already far too soon before he could tell if he was ready for the gruelling duels which had cemented his fearsome reputation in the past, but the strain added by his brief time in the air, fighting the flames of Charlotte's disintegration curses and this latest attack had proven too much for the once-feared Dark Lord. Even with his Dark Marks siphoning magic away from his followers, it was just too much. Even his body could only take so much. He needed a moment to gather his remaining strength, and that was when he spotted the Potter slut looking at him without her glasses. They'd likely been damaged when she'd tried to avoid him.

XXX

Back at Hogwarts, the mood was tense. Everyone's eyes were glued to the mirror, unable to look away from the duel which had rapidly turned into a battle between Voldemort and Charlotte. Dumbledore was standing as serenely as he could, but recent events had made him tense long before the final task which had spiralled out of control. Still, dozens of people, especially from the ICW, who were watching from Hogwarts as well, were impressed with Charlotte's performance.

They recognised the young witch was a gifted young witch. At that moment, a Patronus message appeared in front of the judges/teachers/ICW representatives in the form of a large fox. As soon as the young witch had vanished and found herself in the graveyard, the ICW representatives had immediately contacted their muscle, ordering the preparation of a strike force as soon as they recognised Britain's resident Dark Lord. That was why they hadn't intervened or sent anyone in to help her. They had been sent to investigate Britain and discover just what in the name of magic was wrong with the country, and while they had some aurors along for protection, especially since thanks to Severus Snape, Cornelius Fudge, and Albus Dumbledore, the number of aurors in Britain had gone down. Down. Down. Snape and Dumbledore had ruined the educational standards of Hogwarts, and as a result, any auror that joined the academy over the last decade were not well trained in potions and other fields, but Fudge, thanks to his stupid and senseless cutbacks, had ensured the British DMLE were a shadow of its former self. In any case, the British had become gullible, believing any upstanding member of their society who was a part of the Death Eater movement were innocent, due to their misconceptions about controlling spells.

They were a liability, which was why they were refusing their aid even if Amelia Bones had offered, quite strongly, to help.

It was a slap in her face, and they suspected she wanted to help because she wanted to redeem her family in the eyes of Miss Potter. But Bones was refused. But they did not have enough to spare for going after Voldemort, so they had needed to contact their colleagues, and arrange for reinforcements.

For many of them, this was a dream come true as they had always been frustrated with Britain, the wizard's lack of common sense in putting down such a dangerous dark force who wanted to rip away the magical world's security.

The ICW, unlike many witches and wizards, were forever watching on the advances of muggle culture, and they did not like what the muggles had available. In the past, the muggles had swords. Now they had nuclear bombs, weapons capable of levelling entire cities. And so many people wanted to conquer them? It was insane. Many of the representatives were constantly insisting on telling the worldwide magical community of the dangers, warning them against things like war, or petty things like muggle baiting.

Muggles were better left alone.

The Twelvetrees incident in America long ago had proven that. But the British seemed determined to just ignore the world. Well, no more. Albus Dumbledore had proven he could not be trusted, and now Voldemort was back.

This had to stop.

It was beyond time Dark Lords were stopped in their tracks, this was a golden opportunity and they had to handle it carefully so none of the Death Eaters got away with their crimes again. Dumbledore had allowed the British Wizengamot to let them off, and it was time for them to be set up as an example to the rest of the country, and the world of what would happen to any who crossed the line.

Dumbledore wouldn't like it, but they didn't care.

None of the ICW representatives had any intention of allowing the British aurors anywhere near this operation; they just did not know what kind of damage they could do.

"We have pinpointed the location of the magical battle," the accented voice of a Chinese witch assigned for the clear-out at the Ministry reported. "We are preparing to engage!"

The ICW representatives glanced at each other, while the eldest, an American wizard Oliver Isolde turned to his colleagues when the patronus vanished.

"Well?" He asked them simply.

"We cannot let the British handle the situation even if it's on their soil," Helga Drakkonia a German witch replied simply. She was quite old. She had not only lived through the Grindelwald wars, she had also seen the rise and the fall of Voldemort. She had seen the damage caused by both Dark Lords, and she knew if Voldemort survived he would only bring waste to the world.

At the same time…

If there was one thing she had learnt over the years, it was how inept the British had become. And it was tragic. In the past, they had been decisive, a great force, so why hadn't they learnt from their mistakes? In the last war, the British had simply swept the mess caused by their own supremacists, and they had believed the ridiculous lies of being controlled when it was obvious to everyone it was not so.

Voldemort's war was nothing but a petty skirmish compared to Grindelwald, who had planned everything out carefully and had gained an army of supporters with his words. Voldemort was nothing more than an animal lashing out at the world, and the British allowed it with their petty views. They were so inept, it was taking a teenager of all things to clean up the mess.

And it was time for it to stop.

"Agreed," a Spanish wizard put in solemnly. "but at the same time, how we stop him? Lord Voldemort was nothing like Grindelwald. It's said he was able to withstand curses and spells which would kill you or me without fail. And there's the Potter girl to be concerned about."

"War is not for children, regardless of what the British say. They believe it's her duty to stop this," Helga pointed out, shaking her head at the stupidity of the wizards and witches of this stupid country.

But one of Isolde's assistants was intrigued. She was the opposite of Drakkonia, being she was much younger, but her eyes told of a no-nonsense witch who didn't take stupidity lightly. Isolde respected her opinion and her views. "We cannot just sit and speak, the matter is we need to intervene. But what should we do about Charlotte Potter, I doubt she will be the type of girl to just give in to us?"

All the representatives in the ground agreed with her. Charlotte Potter had impressed, worried, and frightened them all with her power and ability, but at the same time they were preparing to interview her personally, and while there were many who didn't like what she had done, they had to accept she hadn't actually committed any crimes.

"Wait, there is something you need to be aware of." All of the ICW representatives turned, groaning when they found themselves looking at Albus Dumbledore.

"What do you even want, Dumbledore?" Helga demanded. She had never forgiven the old wizard for his complacent attitude when Grindelwald was on the move, and his lack of response to Voldemort had only made her like him less.

Dumbledore sighed. "Charlotte Potter is fated to end the life of Lord Voldemort; the girl needs to be protected and trained to ensure such an outcome-."

"Fated?" Oliver Isolde repeated, hoping the old wizard was joking. But unfortunately, he had the horrible feeling he wasn't.

"Please tell me you didn't believe some crank's crackpot tales about this, Dumbledore," the Spanish wizard demanded.

"Please, its the truth," Dumbledore pleaded, frustrated he had needed to reveal one of the most important secrets he'd been keeping for a long time. Ordinarily, he would never reveal the truth, but Dumbledore's plans had already gone down the cauldron. All he could do to salvage the situation was to try to ensure Charlotte's safety, especially since he doubted the ICW would even begin to understand her importance for the Greater Good. At the same time if he could gain access to her, somehow, and rewrite her personality, then perhaps the aggression seen in her this year would be erased and she would exhibit the traits he desired the most.

Obedience.

Meekness.

A desire to obey him in all things, especially to die as he had determined she needed to die in order to ensure the death of Voldemort. It was regrettable, the loss of the heiress of a powerful family, but for the Greater Good, it needed to happen.

Forgiveness.

Mercy.

Compassion, since it was clear the girl was not compassionate if what he was seeing was any indication. The only problem he had was everyone had seen what she was capable of, and he could not erase everyone's memories around the world despite his power and proficiency with a wand. For the Greater Good, Charlotte Potter needed to die, but not under these circumstances. She needed to be fighting at the right time…

"Come on, Dumbledore," Isolde pressed. "What did you mean by fated? Please don't tell me somebody told you some stupid prophecy…."

Dumbledore's control and composure had taken such a battering as late, so he was unable to control the flinch everyone noticed.

"Oh, you aren't serious-!"

"He is," Helga hissed with growing contempt. "He would believe any stupid crank who told him anything. That's why he ensured an innocent little girl not only lost her family but her childhood as well."

"It was never meant to happen like that-!"

"But it did," the Spanish wizard pushed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are wasting time," Isolde interrupted, but not before he sent a look of contempt towards Dumbledore over the reminder of what this person had done to a child. Perhaps Dumbledore had reasons for what he had done, yes, but Oliver Isolde had been around for a long time now, and he had been selected for the British investigation because of his no-nonsense, professional and fair abilities and mindset. "Lives are at stake."

"They are, but according to Charlotte Potter's friends, it seems everyone believes Miss Potter is the only one capable of ending this once and for all; this is the kind of society the British have created for themselves, a world where they refuse to do anything and allow anyone, be it man, woman, or tragically enough, child, to do the dirty work rather than think if they worked together this sort of thing could be tolerated," a voice speaking with a Korean accent said, and they turned and found a short witch of Korean descent approaching. She had just been interviewing Charlotte Potter's former friends, hoping to get some information about the girl from people who'd known her.

And she had not liked what she had found out. Hearing how Dumbledore had preached to them a young girl was needed to end the war against a brutal Dark Lord worried her. They knew of the prophecy and its importance, but that was it.

"I've just been speaking to Miss Potter's former friends. They knew of a prophecy linked to her and the British Dark Lord, and how Dumbledore claimed she was going to die for his Greater Good," she went on.

"You had no right to speak to my students," Dumbledore snapped, ignoring the German witch's anger and the Spanish wizard's gasp of disbelief at the mention of the 'Greater Good,' "that was confidential-."

"Tell it to somebody who cares," the Korean witch sneered at him, visibly unimpressed by his display, shocking Dumbledore with her rudeness. But she went on, turning to her colleagues in the ICW. "Tell our people to send for reinforcements; aurors, healers, curse-breakers - we know the Dark Lord has likely put up some kind of defence around that graveyard, they need to come down - and a good magical reversal squad to repair any damage, and remove any trace of dark magic there. But we make it clear the Death Eaters, and their master is to be killed. Do you agree?" She went on, looking at each of her colleagues in the eye.

All of them were nodding in agreement.

"I don't like the thought of taking life, but its high time the British magical world grew up," the Spanish wizard said, "and we also need to set them up as an example to other supremacists who believe it's acceptable to threaten our way of life and the Statute."

"But we can't murder them!" Dumbledore interrupted.

The ICW representatives ignored him. They found he had nothing to say which they really wanted to hear.

"Yes, we need to act quickly," Helga said thoughtfully, "and we should also make it clear to our people if they find Charlotte Potter, she is not to be harmed. Instead, she is to be treated well."

Oliver nodded, and he raised his wand, mentally composing the message.

XXX

Back in the graveyard, Charlotte levelled her wands at Voldemort, ready….

Meanwhile, the Dark Lord watched her, gathering as much energy he could to pour into his new body to heal himself more rapidly, and to give him the strength needed to make her pay.

But he could tell she was waiting for him to continue the fight, and although he didn't know what she had in mind, the last thing he wanted was to give her the opportunity to get close enough to do whatever she wanted to do. He'd noticed that about her during the course of this confrontation, she had been trying to get close, and he had seen her reaction to the death of Nagini.

Frantically, Voldemort checked the magical energy coming into his new body, and he was relieved to find he was getting enough to repair his body, but it would take time.

Time, yes. But it would only take a few moments for Charlotte to attack him again, and he didn't want to waste any more energy needlessly. She was studying him, waiting for him to give her the opportunity to strike, and in his vulnerable state, he would be easier to fight. Voldemort realised he needed to throw the girl off. And he had a good idea of how to do it.

"Its….a pity, Potter," he whispered.

"What is?"

"That….things….were different. You could….have joined a greater power. I….compared you to Bellatrix…earlier," he said before adding the next part, "I…meant it; you are….young….beautiful, deadly. You….could have been….a great edition to….my army…perhaps more," he added, looking at her.

She was standing there, her wands at the ready, staring at him with a strange expression on her face while she gazed at him with her one good eye while Voldemort slowly gave her his complete attention, trying to draw on his remaining magical reserves to give him one final effort to kill her.

Charlotte stared at him, her mind going over what he had just said. It sounded like… Ew, that was disgusting!

"Are you flirting with me?" Charlotte asked in disbelief.

"Why….shouldn't I? Did….you…really think….I don't….appreciate beauty?" He asked, feeling himself regaining his strength; it wasn't his full strength, but it should be enough for what he had in mind. In any event, he was giving Charlotte a half-truth. He would have loved to have had her, as a devoted Death Eater, just as lethal as Bellatrix, and one who would have been as great a lover.

For a moment, a fantasy entered his mind, of her initiation night. She was kneeling before him, robed in black, her face masked, with just enough to let others know underneath lay a female. Nearby were a family of muggles, perfectly ripe for what he had in mind for her… In his fantasy, Voldemort watched and laughed as Charlotte brutally murdered and tortured all of them, their pleas falling on deaf ears as they fell to the Death Eater to be before he marked her as his. He pictured her with Bellatrix, naked in his bed, and he wished he was in a bed, so he could fantasise about his new fantasy, but he knew he was never going to get the chance….

"I don't think you appreciate anything at all," Charlotte's voice brought Voldemort back to reality, and he looked up at her questioningly while he checked his magical reserves and the progress of his healing. He was getting there, but he'd need a few more minutes.

Charlotte tilted her head at him just as Voldemort got his second wind, and he outstretched his wand challengingly…only for it to be blasted out of Voldemort's hands as the Girl-Who-Lived charged towards him, a spell chain leaving her two wands. Voldemort tried to back away, but he slammed into a brick wall he couldn't get past. But it was too late. The spell impacted him and his body.

"Goodbye," she said simply, and he felt chilled when she said that, hearing the cold, hard, finiteness of that one word.

Voldemort gurgled as he felt magic - he didn't know if it was the spell or his own - surging through him, ripping through his still new, still healing body, and suddenly his arms flew outwards, sending beams of magic in different directions from what he could tell. Eerie screams echoed in the distance, and to Voldemort's surprise, they sounded familiar. And then he realised why they were echoes of his own voice. Voldemort's eyes widened in horror as spectral wraiths appeared, all of them with his face, and they screeched and slammed into his body.

Charlotte….she….she knew about his Horcruxes and she…..she….she was doing something to them. They were coming back to him. His Horcruxes were coming back to him!

But how?

Voldemort was convinced nobody even knew about the Horcruxes. Maybe one or two of his followers had an idea of how he'd survived for so long, but there were dozens of ways he could have achieved his long-desired goal for immortality. He was sure Dumbledore had guessed what he had done, but as typical, the old man wouldn't have bothered to share that theory with even his most trusted allies.

Never mind with Charlotte, his supposed protege. His saviour.

So how had she discovered them?

Suddenly Voldemort felt strange….

And then he began to scream in pain as he felt as if all of his magic, and the magic he was siphoning away from his followers…. Voldemort used his occlumency to control the flow of magic from his followers, but it was going out of control…

He heard the sounds of screaming, and he realised they were coming from the Death Eaters.

XXX

Charlotte took an instinctive step back as she watched Voldemort's body beginning to glow after slipping on a pair of sunglasses, reflecting that Slytherin and Ravenclaw had been right when they'd determined Voldemort's use of the Horcruxes after discovering the thing in her scar was a soul fragment would mean the Dark Lord would be forced to construct a body of his own in order to survive.

She had to thank her lucky stars the Founders had worked out the dark wizard had made only three Horcruxes, not more. She had spent more time learning about the nastier side of necromancy, watching as the Founders went over the soul fragment they'd pulled from her infamous curse scar and examined it, and they'd performed a scrying ritual to discover that Voldemort had come up with two forms of immortality.

At some point, he'd discovered there was a magic which could split his soul into fragments, and while Charlotte could understand on an intellectual level how it could make someone live forever in theory, the reality was a lie. The Founders had made that abundantly clear to her, and they had shown her a first-hand account of the first time Voldemort had created a Horcrux.

She supposed it made some sense he'd created the first one during that time when he'd attended school and was responsible for the murder of Moaning Myrtle (she mentally sent a prayer to the girl, one of Voldemort's first victims), and Dumbledore had come to suspect it further down the line, but afterwards, Voldemort had suffered from magical exhaustion for a week before he recovered.

It was clear at some point after that, Voldemort had decided not to make too many Horcruxes - just a nice few in order to push the limits of magic, limits he believed were beneath him - but as she watched the Death Eaters screaming, watching as they glowed the same way Voldemort was, Charlotte realised Voldemort had found another means of living forever.

He had done something to the Death Eaters which would be for his own benefit, and suddenly Charlotte realised Voldemort had never really wanted followers in the first place - sure, they did a lot of legwork and gained for himself contacts in several fields he would need time to dig his claws into, but the Death Eaters served a bigger purpose. They were literally keeping Voldemort alive, providing for him the type of security the Horcruxes simply couldn't provide.

This was why Voldemort had survived for so long.

This was why he had become a wraith.

The Death Eaters were the anchors stopping him from being killed off forever. She could murder Dumbledore for this; yeah, okay, he might have had problems with the remaining Horcruxes, even if the Founders had assured her they didn't work as advertised and were useless beyond causing terrible damage to the soul in the process, but if he had bothered to kill the Death Eaters instead of talking about forgiveness and redemption, the war might have taken a different turn.

Charlotte tried to mentally count how many Death Eaters there were in real life before she just gave up. She didn't know and if she were honest, she didn't care. After hearing from Barty Crouch junior about the full scope of their crimes, and the magical world discovering the truth of their activities which weren't innocent like they'd imagined, Charlotte felt no pity for them.

She felt this was the mother of all ironies, really; the Death Eaters were the worst form of pureblood in the world. They believed they were better than everyone because of who they were, not what they were good at. They had murdered, raped, and plundered the British magical world and the muggle world without a care, believing their family names and fortunes would get them off the hook if they were caught, swearing blind they were being controlled by Voldemort when they were actually doing it all of their free wills.

She watched as one of the nearby Death Eaters thrashed around on the ground, their hand curled around their forearm where the Dark Mark was burned into their flesh, and she realised all the time they had been branded like cattle. These arrogant, holier than thou, bastards who believed they were the creme de la creme of society, had allowed themselves to be branded by Voldemort. Charlotte had dimly wondered why on Earth none of the Death Eaters had revealed the presence of the mirror, and she guessed something Voldemort had done to their Dark Marks was responsible but she didn't care; she was just grateful the whole magical world had witnessed what she had done in order to win.

It was at that point she realised that the glow from Voldemort was getting brighter in intensity, and he was no longer screaming, instead, he seemed to be paralysed with pain before she realised he was going to explode. Charlotte turned around and ran towards one of the gravestones when her sunglasses picked up something glinting in the air, just in her peripheral vision…

Charlotte lifted her head, spotting the mirror. And then she had an idea….

XXX

Everyone at the school had watched with awe as the Girl-Who-Lived finally ended He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and as soon as the realisation set in, they all began cheering and clapping in celebration. All across the world, people celebrated, especially in parts of the world where Voldemort and his followers had been putting pressure on despite Crouch senior's offering of the magical signatures of the known Death Eaters, but some countries had been more vulnerable than others.

Albus Dumbledore was looking at the mirror, unable to take his eyes off of the screen of the polished reflective glass. His mind had seen what the mirror had shown. But he was in denial, he couldn't believe the girl had managed to do this, but the girl had not destroyed any of the Horcruxes!

How could these fools believe Voldemort was dead, especially since he had returned before? Unfortunately, due to his beliefs and his habits, and his hubris, it never occurred to Dumbledore to disclose the existence of the Horcruxes….

And yet it appeared Voldemort was dead, at least to the masses. He would need to visit the graveyard himself personally to assess whether or not the Dark Lord was dead or would one day return… And yet, he had heard the sounds of Voldemort's voice, screaming, many times. Could they have been from the other Horcruxes? He had no way of knowing, his knowledge of Horcrux magic was incredibly limited. What he knew came from those disgusting books he had in his office, and from what he had picked up over the years.

"Why isn't she running away?"

"He's gonna explode!"

Dumbledore was forced back into reality when he heard the rising tide of questions, which followed a specific theme, and so he refocused his attention on the mirror. Charlotte was standing too close to the glowing growing light that was coming from Voldemort's body. The mirror homed in on her face, and he saw a calm resolve there, settled and solemn.

Why isn't she getting out of the way? She could easily do it…. And then the truth hit him, she was planning on committing suicide. Dumbledore was about to summon Fawkes to take her away when there was a tremendous explosion.

XXX

Oliver Isolde was looking contemptuously down at the charred remains of Lord Voldemort. He and the other ICW representatives had immediately left Hogwarts, accompanied by Dumbledore and Fudge, both British wizards were a contrast all to themselves; Dumbledore was standing there, dressed in his outlandish robes, like a wizard out of a legend where many other wizards believed it was better to be subtle. But Dumbledore was more calm, serene than the fidgety Fudge, who was looking around the devastation, with fear all over his face.

Isolde found it very hard to be sympathetic to Fudge; if it weren't for Charlotte Potter, the ICW would never have come to Britain and found out just how much of a mess the British had gotten themselves in, and now Fudge was being removed from office along with many others. He had personally had Fudge brought here so the little fool could finally see the reality of what was happening in his magical domain, and how the Death Eaters and their master should have been dealt with long before.

It was a message he had made very clear to both men. Isolde had taken them both to task for their ineptitude, for Fudge being unimaginably blinded by his position, and how the Death Eaters kept him in power, not because they believed he was a great politician, but because they needed him to pass laws of their liking. For Dumbledore, it was simply for doing nothing, and lumping all of the responsibility for ending a Dark Lord onto the shoulders of a child.

There wasn't much of the former Dark Lord's body, but once he had actually seen the remains Isolde was unsurprised. The ground was blackened from whatever spells Potter had used on him, which had caused a lot of damage already to the surrounding area, but all that was left of Voldemort was nothing more than a pile of ash. Isolde sensed someone behind him, and he turned to find two people standing there, one was a Japanese wizard with a Magical Reversal Squad badge pinned to his uniform, and the other was wearing auror robes and had a Hispanic appearance, but there was a badge pinned to his robe which stood him out as a forensics officer.

"Well?" Isolde asked them.

The Hispanic wizard spoke first. "We've checked the other Death Eaters," he said, "some were caught in the blast, and they were killed, and a few are still alive with minor injuries from the blast, but they've completely lost their magic."

"What?" One of the ICW representatives whispered.

The Hispanic wizard nodded solemnly. "We've already checked them several times. There is simply no magic in their cores, it been completely drained, and I think we know how although we are going to have to get some Unspeakables in to be sure. We think their magic was drained by their Dark Marks."

"What does the Dark Marks have to do with this?"

"There's still magic tied into them, but not enough to be used, and from what we can gather the Mark was more than a decorative tattoo, but a really complex magical construct, which tied into the magical core of the Death Eater, which is why we need expert help to be certain," the wizard explained, "but I think the Dark Mark was tied in some way to…him," he looked down at the pile of ash with contempt and looked up again, "and it gave him access to their magic."

Isolde had heard of the Dark Marks, but he hadn't really paid them much attention in the past. Well, that was going to change. "I'll make certain Unspeakables from other countries, not just Britain, work together to investigate," he promised before he turned to the Japanese magical reversal squad member. "How goes the repair and removal of all the magic in the graveyard?"

"Slowly. We've managed to recover enough of the cauldron used to bring that bastard back from the dead, so we'll soon know which ritual he used, at the same time we have superficial damage to the graveyard; a few gravestones and patches of grass to be fixed, so I think we'll be gone within a few hours after making sure there's no noticeable sign of any of our presence tonight, but I'm glad we got here when we did. The wards placed on the graveyard were on the verge of falling down, and then we'd have had problems with the muggles," the Japanese wizard replied.

Isolde grimaced. As an American, he came from a magical culture where muggles, or No-Majs' were more demonised than in other countries, and because he had lived a long time, he could remember in total clarity the mess which Grindelwald had nearly caused with those ignorant savages. People like Dumbledore and Fudge were so ignorant of how dangerous they were, and Oliver could see a dozen ways that mess could have resulted in the exposure of magic.

"Is there any sign of Miss Potter?" Isolde closed his eyes at the sound of Dumbledore's voice.

The Japanese wizard just looked at the older wizard without any kind of respect. The contempt for Albus Dumbledore was thick in his accent. "No," he said shortly. "We assume she was reduced to dust and ash, much like your Dark Lord. If you would just clear up your own problems, this sort of thing would never happen."

He left before he could be remonstrated, but none of the ICW representatives would say anything since he was right. Dumbledore, like many of the British, had the habit of ignoring problems until they got out of hand. Isolde rubbed his face, and stepped away from the pile of ash and burnt ground, looking around the graveyard and over the horizon for signs of anything amiss. It was lucky the battle between the two powerful sorcerers had not lasted and gone on for hours, otherwise, the first light of dawn would be appearing by now, but it wasn't far off. They needed to work fast in order to repair any lingering damage while taking away the bodies of the Death Eaters and of the enormous snake found in the graveyard which was apparently Voldemort's familiar or companion - Isolde didn't know and didn't care which - and removing all trace of magical presence so no No-Maj would be cursed in the long term. Isolde looked at the reversal team respectfully, admiring their quiet, expert professionalism as they went about their tasks thoroughly and diligently, although he knew they had lots of work to do, reports to write and to file, and he did as well.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he spotted something moving in the corner of his eye. Turning and moving a hand to his wand, Isolde looked into the darkness.

Something was moving, but it was too small to be a human. Finally, it appeared in the gloom of the cemetery.

It was a cat.

Isolde smiled at the creature, wondering if it had been hunting during the fighting and had been trying to hide or had just come through the cemetery at that moment, but he decided it didn't matter. He turned away, not noticing the cat turning its head, staring at them with one eye.

And then it was gone.


Until the next time...